A Prison called Rejection

Rejection has always ruled my life. Or more accurately, the fear of rejection has.

I’ve lived in a world of paranoia. Trying to telepathically assess what people are thinking about me, replaying conversations, memorizing expressions and analyzing background information to figure out if I am at risk of being rejected.

Rejection is difficult to understand, even harder to accept.

I often check myself, desperately self conscious about how I’m coming across. Everything I say and do is deliberate. I’ve thought about it, every word, every gesture. A constant assessment of risk.

A fear of being unwanted.

I wonder if I’m being excluded, I wonder if I’m the butt of the joke. I wonder if i’m being avoided, if they engage with me out pity or obligation. Am I a second choice? The poor man’s cousin?

This is a particularly humiliating fragment of my personality. A piece of rotting flesh that I hide deep. I’ve often rebelled against it, the truth inside me fighting to come out. Every so often she’s been successful. I’d have blissful moments of honesty and more often than not though they would all be followed by bouts of relentless doubt.

I can be obsessive in my ability to emotionally harm.

I’d victimize myself and blame  the world for making me feel that way. Becoming resentful and overly self aware. Becoming more people pleasing and less authentic.

But now I ask myself, why do I need people to like me?

I’m not sure why popularity is so important. Why do the opinions of others rate higher than my own?

It is absolutely a narcissistic way of thinking. Why would I play a leading role in their minds? Well, logic tells me that I don’t, but my insecurity hears them laughing.

It really blows my mind how willing I am to punish myself, or at least how willing I had been.

People are not against you, they are for themselves. And so we should all be.

Realising this has been the most freeing experience.

I’m not saying rejection doesn’t exsist. It does and we experience it in many forms every day.

Some bearable and some soul destroying. It’s a real lolly scramble on the pain meter.

What I am saying is that the fear of rejection should not dictate how we live our lives. It should not inform my decisions and it absolutely should not alter my personality.

Not everybody will appreciate you.

Not everybody will enjoy your particular brand of uniqueness. But the more you love yourself, your company, your mannerisms, your view point, the voice inside your head will change from violent slur to sweet melody.

I fear rejection less these days because finally, finally I value my voice.

I’ve decided that this dreamer, this rhythm challenged dancer, this mediocre singer, this geeky book worm, this party girl  with a big smile, this girl.

This girl is worth loving.




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