| By Lauren Taglienti |
Rejection was once one of my worst nightmares. It still can be really unpleasant for me. More often than not, though, I am initially upset about the rejection for a few minutes while I process it, and then I remind myself that better things are in store and that the timing wasn’t right. It just wasn’t meant to be at that time.
I recently applied for an acclaimed poetry contest, and knowing the likelihood of me winning it, I did not get my hopes up. The chances of winning were slim because of the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of talented poets that would be applying. That thought didn’t stop me from dreaming about how amazing it would be to receive an email saying I’d won the contest, that the judge had liked my poem so much that they felt like it was worthy of the award. I never got that email. I was anxious for a few minutes-as though this was the first rejection that would tarnish my “perfect” record (such delusions come with being a perfectionist)- and shortly after, I was happy for the winner, forgot about the rejection, and carried on with my day. This rejection is something that, perhaps in high school, I would have been upset about for weeks.
While I’ve been published by college publications, I’ve been rejected from the majority of jobs I’ve applied to and publications I’ve submitted to. It doesn’t mean I’m inferior to anyone. It just means that maybe the recruiter thought I wasn’t the right fit for the job or that my poem didn’t fit the publication’s theme the way they wanted it to. Rejection, I’ve learned, is quite literally not about me. Rather, it’s about the rejector, the timing, any other number of things. It’s simply none of my business what others think about me, and the people looking at my resume or reading my work don’t actually know me, so the rejection is never a personal affront.
Writing has helped me understand this, as if I focused so much on the plethora of rejections I received, I would never be able to live in the present. I would be beating myself up about the past and ignoring the present moment, which is the future. I think I still miss out on the present in other ways, but worrying about past rejections is thankfully no longer one of them. Rejection comes with being a writer. Rejection comes with being a human. And I find that quite comforting.
Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán via Pexels
Comments