FROM REJECTION TO RESILIENCE
Rejection is a part of life. We experience little rejections here and there that impact us, like not getting a date with the person we have a crush on, or not getting chosen for that random award or job. Though they may seem big at the time, those rejections are usually soon forgotten as life provides new opportunities to distract ourselves. Significant rejections, those usually caused by people we love, however, can cause deep wounds leading to paralyzing fears for many of us; fears that prevent us from taking chances, following our dreams, and living fulfilling lives.
The first time I felt significantly rejected by someone I loved, it was my father. When I was 11 or 12, my mother was done with his drinking and cheating. I saw him occasionally after that before he disappeared for years at a time. I took his abandonment as rejection. When I became a stripper, my mother was the next significant person to painfully reject me. She didn't approve of my job choice, so she withdrew from my life. She even travelled from her home town to visit my brother in the same city where I lived. I didn't know she was coming and only learned that she was there by accident. She didn't try to see me before she returned home. I was extremely hurt by her rejection of me.
The next truly significant rejection I experienced was when I found out I was pregnant unexpectedly. My partner and I were supposed to go out that night to a party. We were having a good day when it occurred to me that I hadn't had my period in a long time. I didn't really think I was pregnant, but when I peed on the stick, it came out positive. My partner reacted with shock and revulsion. I was in shock too. I thought we would share the shock together and talk about what was happening to us. Instead, he said he was going to the party without me. I lay crying on our bed, begging him to stay with me. He shook his head at me with disgust on his face and a rage boiled up inside me. "Fine, go then!" I said, and I kicked him hard and square in the chest. He fell back a few steps with surprise. Then he left and didn't come home that night. I was a fragile, pregnant mess.
Those experiences were difficult and heartbreaking, but the MOST significant rejection I ever experienced was when I got sick. Doctors told me it was all in my head. My partner and his family thought I was faking it. When I was rushed into an emergency surgery to have 75% of my large intestine removed, doctors finally took me seriously. My partner knew I wasn't faking it anymore. I was 80 lbs with a temporary ostomy, being rushed to the hospital every few days due to scar tissue blockages, fistulas, and abscesses. Arthritis was invading all of the joints of my body. Each day was agonizingly painful to get through and I had to do it with three, young children and a very unhappy partner.
I spent years in pain and terror for my health before things started to get better. During that time, my partner never touched me with tenderness. He never caressed my hair or held me. Through no fault of his own, he was incapable of showing me tenderness. He was broken from his own emotionally abusive childhood. I don't blame him. I can only say that the impact of feeling rejected for years when I was at my weakest and most vulnerable was traumatizing.
Out of the five major love languages of: affirmations, acts of service, quality time, receiving gifts, and physical touch – my main love language is touch. My partner wasn't good at any of love languages, to be honest. But the lack of touch hurt me the most. It wasn't until we broke up and I made love to someone else for the first time that I realized how touch-starved I was. I hid my tears behind my partner's shoulder as I held him in a death grip after every climax, the first several times we made love. I couldn't get enough those early days.
Those touch-starved years were agonizing, but I learned something transformative about rejection. As I lay in my bed, more often than I like to remember, I spent hours thinking, reflecting, and researching the ideas and feelings that I was going through. I learned that rejection is not a reflection of me. It is a reflection of the person who is rejecting me.
In other words, my partner didn't hold back touch and tenderness because I was repulsive and unworthy of love – even though that's how I felt most of the time. My partner held back touch and tenderness because he didn't know HOW to navigate the very difficult roles of being both a provider and a caregiver. He was a child who had been largely uncared for. He simply didn't have the skills necessary to handle the situation he found himself in. Understanding this, I realized that if I wanted to stop feeling alone and unworthy of love, I needed to leave the relationship. The constant rejection took many forms and it was fucking with my head.
Over time, my touch-starvation healed and I was able to forgive my ex. When the trauma of those difficult years didn't have a stranglehold on me anymore, I was able to examine my past feelings of rejection more fully. I looked back over the significant rejections of my life, realizing that they were not malicious acts against me by the people I thought loved me, but only reflections of their own brokenness at the time; I also realized that they were signposts too. Those rejections, which I took so hard and turned inward as proof that I am unlovable, were actually opportunities for me to understand what rejection really points out.
Rejection is necessary because it shows us precisely where we need to set boundaries. When my father rejected me by abandoning me as a child, it was a reflection of his brokenness and a sign that I needed space away from him. Instead of resenting him, I could have been thankful that he chose not to inflict his chaotic life on me. When my mother rejected me as a stripper, it was a reflection of her brokenness and a sign that I needed to take responsibility for my own happiness. Instead of harbouring unforgiveness towards my mother for years, I could have accepted her broken parenting style and given her less opportunities to try to exert control over me.
When my partner rejected me the night I found out I was pregnant, it was a sign that he wouldn't ever be able to provide the loving support I craved in a relationship. Instead of trying to control and change him, or "love him into healing"; I could have let go with love and saved myself years of tormented living. I finally learned my lesson when I was rejected by my partner while I was sick. Instead of trying to change him, I made a plan to leave. When I was strong enough, I implemented my plan. I set the boundary that should have been set many years before. I didn't want to waste another moment of my precious life feeling rejected.
Like everything in life, rejection has its own energy. It hurts us even when we know it's not about us. To avoid living in a constant cycle of rejection and acceptance – meaning we feel rejected, then we just accept it over and over – we must set boundaries. People who make us feel rejected do not serve a higher purpose for us. They do not lift us up to our highest potential. They can only bring us down, for they are living in a low-energy state of their own.
This means that when we feel rejected, the person or situation that is making us feel rejected is not right for us. We need a new plan; a plan that will get us where we really want to go and get us out of the stuck place that drains and traumatizes us. Rejection is a sign to walk away. It can also be a sign of something more profound.
The rejection of my body and soul during the most difficult years of my entire life was devastating. But it was also transforming. If I hadn't have been through that, I would not be the person I am today. Those years of feeling unworthy of love and alone made me super sensitive to the emotional needs of others. When I was well enough, I made it my purpose to spread love and acceptance. Then, I made it my job to spread touch. Working as an intimacy provider taught me a great many things that have enabled me to have a deeper empathy and understanding of my fellow humans.
For me, rejection is what led to me becoming the person I was meant to be and I wouldn't have it any other way. Perhaps rejection will be the catalyst for you to find your purpose too. Leverage your pain to make a new plan, and your purpose just might find YOU.
Love Annie xoxo
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