Learn from it and move on
As a child and teenager, I could deal with the possibility of Freddie Krueger living under my bed or popping out from the darkness that surrounded our country home at night.
What scared me more was rejection.
Oftentimes, I didn't ask to play with the popular kids, whom I'd known my whole life. I was too scared they'd say no. This wasn't an unfounded fear -- they'd said no many times before. It's not that we were all so different, it's that it seemed I carried a stigma no one could quite identify. So began my contentment to have only a few friends at a time.
I went through my elementary and middle school years feeling rejected, powering through it with a smile, most days.
Into high school, I'd stopped caring about hanging with the popular kids. I'd become comfortable with a small circle of friends with whom I associated during school hours. However, I rarely asked them to hang out outside school, for fear they'd reject my offer. Again, this was not without foundation.
I had one friend who often invited me over to watch movies, but nearly everyone I asked to hang out at my house declined.
Maybe it was because stories I told came out sounding silly and only made sense to me. It made people laugh because I ended those stories with, "And it was funny," but I could tell they easily tired of my jesting.
All this sounds incredibly sad. And it was. But I wish I hadn't allowed myself to feel this way for so long.
Feeling rejected led to feeling sad and useless, when in fact I had so many ideas flowing in my head, I could have put my energy into something productive.
I had a drawer full of notebooks filled with attempted stories that fizzled out. When I couldn't think of something good to write, I'd quit and think, "No one would want to read it anyway." A cop out, a reason just to not feel rejected in person.
Looking back at my times of depression, I realize how I wasted my life as a teenager. My fear of rejection stopped me from pursuing some great hobbies.
Growing up with acres of woodland literally in my backyard, I always wanted a professional grade camera so I could practice nature photography. I was too afraid to ask, knowing the camera and equipment would cost too much and my request would be denied.
I didn't even try.
In my years since, I've realized not trying is not an option.
When you request something, the worst someone can tell you in a civilized situation is "no." I've become accustom to deciphering whether it's wise to just let it go or to attempt to persuade the person otherwise. It worked when I was in college, for example, and I asked for a computer. I suggested my dad, brother and grandma chip in for a refurbished computer as my Christmas and birthday present.
The worst someone can do in a tense situation is yell at you. For me, that's typically been over the phone and it's usually not a rejection of me -- it's a rejection of the situation.
Do I still have a fear of rejection? Sometimes.
When I need to make a phone call to arrange an interview, I often have a heavy feeling, thinking I'll have to do a lot of persuading just to talk to that person. Usually, it turns out the interviewee is more than happy to talk.
When I text a friend to arrange a time to meet, the old me says, "They're probably busy. Maybe I shouldn't bother with this." The new me realizes my friends now are willing to make time for me and are happy to listen to my ridiculous stories because they have their own to tell.
What scared me more was rejection.
Oftentimes, I didn't ask to play with the popular kids, whom I'd known my whole life. I was too scared they'd say no. This wasn't an unfounded fear -- they'd said no many times before. It's not that we were all so different, it's that it seemed I carried a stigma no one could quite identify. So began my contentment to have only a few friends at a time.
I went through my elementary and middle school years feeling rejected, powering through it with a smile, most days.
Into high school, I'd stopped caring about hanging with the popular kids. I'd become comfortable with a small circle of friends with whom I associated during school hours. However, I rarely asked them to hang out outside school, for fear they'd reject my offer. Again, this was not without foundation.
I had one friend who often invited me over to watch movies, but nearly everyone I asked to hang out at my house declined.
Maybe it was because stories I told came out sounding silly and only made sense to me. It made people laugh because I ended those stories with, "And it was funny," but I could tell they easily tired of my jesting.
All this sounds incredibly sad. And it was. But I wish I hadn't allowed myself to feel this way for so long.
Feeling rejected led to feeling sad and useless, when in fact I had so many ideas flowing in my head, I could have put my energy into something productive.
I had a drawer full of notebooks filled with attempted stories that fizzled out. When I couldn't think of something good to write, I'd quit and think, "No one would want to read it anyway." A cop out, a reason just to not feel rejected in person.
Looking back at my times of depression, I realize how I wasted my life as a teenager. My fear of rejection stopped me from pursuing some great hobbies.
Growing up with acres of woodland literally in my backyard, I always wanted a professional grade camera so I could practice nature photography. I was too afraid to ask, knowing the camera and equipment would cost too much and my request would be denied.
I didn't even try.
In my years since, I've realized not trying is not an option.
When you request something, the worst someone can tell you in a civilized situation is "no." I've become accustom to deciphering whether it's wise to just let it go or to attempt to persuade the person otherwise. It worked when I was in college, for example, and I asked for a computer. I suggested my dad, brother and grandma chip in for a refurbished computer as my Christmas and birthday present.
The worst someone can do in a tense situation is yell at you. For me, that's typically been over the phone and it's usually not a rejection of me -- it's a rejection of the situation.
Do I still have a fear of rejection? Sometimes.
When I need to make a phone call to arrange an interview, I often have a heavy feeling, thinking I'll have to do a lot of persuading just to talk to that person. Usually, it turns out the interviewee is more than happy to talk.
When I text a friend to arrange a time to meet, the old me says, "They're probably busy. Maybe I shouldn't bother with this." The new me realizes my friends now are willing to make time for me and are happy to listen to my ridiculous stories because they have their own to tell.
This makes me want to have coffee (or in my case a diet coke) with you and listen to done stories!
ReplyDelete