When You Feel Rejected

Some people collect seashells, salt shakers, souvenirs from quaint gift shops.

You could even store up compliments, photographs, or I love yous that touched your soul.

Those people must have grand shelves topped with beautiful things, pretty memories. Knickknacks that take them back to a time worth remembering. One that pulls lips into a smile and taps hearts to flutter. Those people have piles of good things.

Things I’d love to have too.

But what about the ones who collect the not-so-dainty items? The eyes that glare and the mouths that turn down ever so slightly, leaving one to wonder what the matter was at all.

The advice that stung, the breakup that crushed, and the feedback that bit a little too hard. Those aren’t treasures we want to store, yet there are many types of collectors. The ones with cabinets on display and others with boxes full of shame.

Lately I find myself adding pieces of evidence to my file that says I’m simply not good enough. Waves of rejection roll in, and somehow I’m able to scoop them up and save them somewhere deep in my memory, so that when the next one comes crashing in, I can rush to keep that one too.

I keep them like pieces of proof. Unwanted. I sometimes wonder how many clues I need to collect to be sure. To stand my ground and conclude that I’m unworthy. That’s what it feels like I’m doing. Like the phenomenon of learning a new word, then you suddenly hear it three times in one week.

Maybe that’s how rejection works too. You feel it once, and then you look for it. A sneaky scheme of the enemy, whispering, Hang on to those pieces. You might need them again. Just one more to complete your collection.

But it’s a pile of memories, words, and feelings I’d really rather not have.

The “no”s, the almosts, and the silence that screams in no answer at all. I might have the proof in my inbox and text threads, but I wonder if rejection can simply be a feeling too. Maybe you never had the door slammed in your face, but you’ve turned enough knobs to know you’re unwelcome.

Could rejection disappear if we simply stopped looking for it? Maybe I’ll try. I’ve heard the sayings…