I posted a story on Instagram tonight alluding to how some of the most personally and professionally invasive behavior I’ve witnessed in my time on Earth is that of men who I’ve not wanted to date. This topic was inspired by something I heard recently from a friend. They brought it to my attention that an individual in the music industry is actively spreading untrue rumors about me. And you guessed it… I rejected their offer to date. 5. Years. Ago.
Someone rejecting you is not a signed, sealed, delivered letter from god telling you to stalk them, spread erroneous rumors, talk shit, or most commonly: berate them [or yourself!] with the simple-yet-serrated backhanded remark.
“The Dead Sea is not as salty as a man who you don’t want to date. A barnacle is not as crusty as…”
I took down the story and took out the keypad to write this instead. First off, I recognize the bitterness in others <of any gender> because that same capacity and even track record lives in me. In fact, it has been through various instances of being rejected, personally and professionally, that I began to learn rejection is neutral.
I used to fixate on who rejected me, rolling around like a pig in mud in the bitterness I developed over being unwanted. Over my perceived ideal not blossoming to fruition. I believed rejection posed a threat to the way I saw myself, like the patina of an old mirror minus the charm-factor. I even believed rejection meant I was of less value to the world.
Choosing to be comfortable with external disapproval is the best decision I’ve made so far. In doing so, I’ve watched myself evolve from a validation-seeking shapeshifter towards a standalone consciousness with two feet on the ground. Rejection [and praise for that matter] is more neutral than often perceived, for most people act on what they need and want for themselves, which so much of the time is feeling and perception based. External input no longer governs my identity (or even better, lack of identity).
I suppose…life is hard enough. And while rejection can hurt like a bitch, if you lean into that, crash, burn, Phoenix through it (thank you Jarle Bernhoft) you’ll find freedom.
Prince has a tune called “I Wish U Heaven.” I have a boombox on my shoulders playing it on repeat.