APRIL

THE ART OF GETTING REJECTED 

Trust me; I hate this suburban heartbreak more than you do. So, I'm making an escape plan, and I'm not taking you with me.  Not physically, but especially not mentally. I've always thought silently to myself, why do I feel most creative when I feel like killing myself (relax, I'm fine). 

Kill the old you, they say. What does that even mean? The only thing I want to kill is the switch box to the plethora of thoughts of heartbreak that fuel me. I want new fuel. But I don't want further heartbreak. Like a body-positive Instagram Reel battling ED, FUEL IS GOOD.

Okay, I will get to the point. I believe there are two types of people in the world, and rejection is the real divider. Ask yourself this, when you get rejected, turned down, broken up with, whatever device or vessel delivers the rejection, what do you do? Do you sit there, accept defeat, face the wall of the dead-end? Tears in eyes, too embarrassed to get back up on the horse, too tired to fight fate.

Like trigger to finger, pen to paper, dear diary, your heart spills.

Or, do your fists ball? Fight Club internalized, no one can know—the importance and need to prove everyone wrong. Like water off a duck's back, the need to be the coolest person in the room.

I write that on sticky notes when I need to go into an important work meeting. Or have a difficult conversation with a friend. "Be the coolest person in the room". No, not Instagram followers, not a Prada toting crossbody nylon purse baddie. The coolest person in the room doesn't lose their said cool. 

Me? I ball my fists. The coolest person in the room? Hardly ever. Fuck rose-colored glasses; they become hell-colored glasses. The bad kind, not Lil Nas-X withering on a handsome devil. I remember this first feeling of standing up for myself in a professional setting where you are paid not to lose your cool. 

My first (but not last!) corporate meeting at my first "big girl job". Long story short, I stood up mid convo and declared, "I quit".  My hands slapping down on the boardroom table. I wanted to fucking flip it. Two flabbergasted adults sat across from me, stunned, my CEO scrambling asking me to rethink. His female counterpart nodded and said: "I'm proud of you". I have chased this feeling since in similar situations.

I was being validated in my rejection. I don't understand it either. That's why I'm not the coolest person in the room.