Risk Rejectionhttp://www.amylsullivan1.com.
Week Three of getting out there and taking risks that frighten the
hairs off our heads and, as if that wasn't enough, then going public
with it. If you haven't read about my week one or two or the stories
of the other ladies on this wonderfully terrifying journey (week one, week two), you're
missing out.
I'm going to be
honest today—I've felt kind of not real with all the other women in
this group talking about how their risks make them want to throw up
or scream or cry or whatever women do when they get really, really
nervous. Not in the sense of I haven't been genuine about risking.
Just in the sense of, “Hey, throwing up is overrated and besides,
after three kids and numerous pets, I know darn well who has to clean
that up.”
There's something that happens after a certain age, I think, that makes women
look at frightening circumstances in life and say, “Hmm, are you
worth the energy I'm going to expend worrying about what's going to
happen here?” And the answer is almost universally 'no.' It's
purely a conservation of resources thing.
I've taken
genuine risks the last two weeks. They have been scary. And I have
sat around with that pit-of-the-stomach feeling we know so well that
quietly nags at us-- “What were you thinking? You know that person
you contacted for your risk is at this moment showing your letter on
a video screen to a conference room full of people and saying 'This
is a perfect example of one stupid thing not to do. Oh, wait. Make
that many stupid things.'”
(Yes, I have
been to enough writing conferences to have a healthy fear of ever
being made an example of “what not to do.”)
But though that
stomach pit thing happens, when rejection does come, it doesn't
bother me that much anymore. I know now (although I don't always
practice what I know) that it isn't personal. People have different
agendas, different needs of the moment, and different callings. I put
mine out there, and if it matches someone else's, huzzah. But if not,
moving on to the next thing.
Except this
week has brought, instead of the risks and potential rejections I had
planned, rejections I had not planned. Silences that felt like
rejection. Brushing off of my feelings and opinions that felt like
rejection. Careless slights from other people that have felt very
much like rejections, even if their originators would never frame
them as such.
That's one
thing about rejection—it can often be backhanded, making it much
harder not to take personally and even more difficult to respond to.
“Oh, I didn't mean to hurt you.” Right. That makes it all so much
better.
This is the
kind of rejection that doesn't roll off so well into, “Moving on.
Nothing to see here.” It's the kind that is personal. And I handle
it with not so much assurance. Read that, not well. At. All.
In several
completely different situations this week, I've been tempted
to decide, “I'm done. I don't need this anymore. Call me when
you're going to be a positive part of my life.” Relationship
rejection pulls up our fight or flight instinct, and this week it's
been tempting to do both. Tempting, but not healthy. Why not healthy, you ask? Why, thanks for asking. I'll tell you.
For a long
time, I've watched people post those pleasant, affirming saying on
Facebook that go something like this:
Or this:
And while I
totally understand the idea—some of us have been deeply hurt by
some pretty stinky people—I always want to scream just a little.
Do you have any
idea what kind of a person it will make YOU to believe that?
Do you know
what kind of a person you will become if you live like that?
Truth—God
threw us messed up people together here for a reason. To help each
other be less messed up. If we continually move on from people who
hurt us, intentionally or just stupidly, we don't become better
people. We become shallow people. Fearful people. People who would
rather build tidy walls around ourselves and decorate them with cute
plaques than do the scary work of talking things through, facing
rejection, forging forgiveness. Taking down the safe walls.
When it is
personal? This risking rejection stuff hurts. It's no coincidence
that it all happens right when I'm on this RiskRejection journey.
It's getting personal. God's asking what I'm going to do about it. He
knows it's in community that it matters most.
It's also not
at all a coincidence I read this this morning:
Forgive
others, and you will be forgiven. Give, and you will receive. Your
gift will return to you in full—pressed down, shaken together to
make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. (Luke 6
38)
Keep giving.
Keep forgiving. Keep loving. Just keep . . . everything. No limits.
No terms. No fears.
More Truth: If
you are in relationship with me, I will hurt you. I will mess up. I
will disappoint and ignore you and not even know it. But I will not
run away from you. (Unless you're wielding a large knife or a .45.
Then, probably.)
Let's do this
community thing, and let's handle this rejection thing, and let's be
people who aren't afraid to go behind the pretty walls and nice
sayings and become better people. Risk together.
8 comments:
Wow. That was a really powerful post. I love how you are sharing about keeping it real - we are all human and we all need each other (varying degrees, of course) but wow. So good. Sorry for those unplanned rejections. Been there. But there's always grace. Cheers!
Unplanned rejections hurt way more than the planned ones. If I put myself out there, I know what's coming.
I have someone I am close to who constantly uses silence as a form of rejection towards me. She won't ask about or acknowledge important things. Not showing interest is a form of rejection.
The backhanded rejection is also a tough one. When they don't even notice or don't seem to care or when it's done with humor.
Ouch.
Lots to think about here, Jill.
Thank you for writing this post. It's just what I needed to hear at this moment in time...
I agree with Amy...it can be so hard to be rejected when your like, "What did I do?" I had that the first week of this challenge...I always was made aware of the small, subtle ways I was rejecting other people! This whole challenge is a huge eye-opener, huh! And in my experience, sometimes forgiveness is the riskiest thing we can do!
Thanks, Mary. I really appreciate your words. At this point in my life, real is the most sane thing to be. I've tried the alternative, and it's crazy.
Oh, the ones who make a joke out of it . . . grrr. As an aside--those of us who are extreme introverts often honestly don't know we're ignoring you by not responding or acknowledging. We just don't interact naturally, so we don't think about it. It's something I'm struggling to overcome and change. Not saying that's what's happening with this person--you would know the difference. But it does happen, and people get mad at me for things I don't realize I should have done. That's where communication is such a great thing.
Thanks. That's all I ever really want to hear when I write things. I love when God does that :)
I didn't think of it that way, but you're absolutely right. Forgiveness is a huge personal risk. But so freeing.
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