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BURNINGBIRD
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a node at the edge
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August 04, 2002
 Rejection
Oh these little rejections how they add up quickly Alanis Morissette, "So Unsexy" from Under Rug Swept Rejection. Being last picked for a side in a game of Red Rover. Not being invited to a party all your friends are attending. Calling or writing someone who's too busy to respond. Running into an old lover who has forgotten your name. Want to raise the level of pain? Telling someone you love them and they only want to be friends. Up the ante? Someone you love falls out of love, walks away, leaves. Excuse me, is this your heart I'm stepping on? Oh these little rejections how they seem so real to me Rejection hurts. It can reduce us to a primal urge to fold ourselves into a fetal ball, locked behind drawn curtains, chained doors. It can silence the eloquent, and strip away any hope or joy. Rejection maims but doesn't kill cleanly. And the worst part of rejection is wondering what it is about ourselves that failed somehow. The endless question: what's wrong with me? I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful Rejection. My best friend in first grade telling me that Betty was now going to be her best friend, but I could be her second best friend. Divorce and my Mom giving my brother to my Dad, and keeping me. The hurt and pain in my brother's eyes; the hurt and pain in mine. At 15, being dumped by my 27 year old lover at a party when he went into a bedroom with a brassy blonde with projectile boobs and ruby lips, leaving me surrounded by looks of pity and humor, all shy, gauche, soft curves, and sad gray/green eyes. All those assholes who don't hire us for the jobs we apply for. The unreturned calls, the unanswered emails, the hand left unshaken, the unlinked weblog. Oh these little protections how they fail to serve me There are a million stories of rejection in the naked world. Funny thing about rejection, though, is it's also an act with two performers; we can't experience rejection without being in a position of being rejected. As Alanis sings, Somewhere along the way I think I gave you the power to make me feel the way I thought only my father could. Rejection ends when you pull the plug on the power. You're too busy to talk? Well, so am I. And sometime we'll connect, or we won't, but I won't waste time worrying about it. Don't want to hire me? Well, bud, that's your loss. The party I'm not invited to isn't a party worth attending, and yes, we can be just friends. Remove the sense of failure and the rejection fades. Life happens. But rejection can dig mighty big holes sometimes, and the deepest hole is the loss of love. Life is suddernly crowded with ghosts: the ghost making coffee, the ghost eating dinner, the ghost reading the book, caring for the kids, driving the car, laughing, talking, making love. You could find peace if only you weren't surrounded by so many damn ghosts. And if only you understood why. Oh these little projections how they keep springing from me To all the rejected in the world.
Posted by Bb at August 04, 2002 12:01 AM Comments
i feel it. i chased a girl half-way around the world with a ring in hand. came home empty handed. Posted by: ryan on August 4, 2002 01:21 AMI deal with the fear of rejection and abandonment by avoiding truly close connections with anyone, where possible. I realize of course that that is the most cowardly, life-destroying thing I could possibly do, but it works for me, and I'm comfortable with that. It fits in nicely with the whole minimal-expectations, detachment-from-desire crypto-buddhist slant that flavours my approach to life, as well. I deal with rejection itself by getting shambolically drunk for 6 months or so and putting myself into life-threatening situations. Cat with nine lives, and I'm on number 8.... Posted by: stavrosthewonderchicken on August 4, 2002 05:29 AMNo wonder your such a great weblogger, Stavros. And Shelley, first: I wasn't altogether pleased with Alanis' latest album, but that's the best song on it. And second, wonderful post. Definitely expresses a lot of the stuff roiling around inside me considering the fact I'll be seeing that ex in about 12 hours. Right on time, as usual. You're the bestest. Truly, truly. Posted by: Shannon on August 4, 2002 07:48 AMDammit. "You're" such a great weblogger. [Beating self soundly about the head and shoulders.] Proofread! Proofread! Posted by: Shannon on August 4, 2002 07:49 AMAh,wonderchicken, you make me realize how far I've drifted over toward your shoreline. Perhaps it's one of the advantages of getting older (I talking about me, not you). You get off that emotional, hopeful rollercoaster and instead find a seat on the sidelines and watch the show. Shelly, hang on. Enjoy the ride! Posted by: Elaine on August 4, 2002 01:00 PMI'm crying. Posted by: jeneane on August 4, 2002 08:13 PMI could use a drink. Shelley, you are so tuned in. When I was a baby my bio-dad left and my mom kinda left me with my grandmother, who had a 14 year old son of her own to raise. When I was like 4 that rat bastard my uncle would throw me fastballs when other boy-chiks were out learning to play catch with their dads. There's a lot of pain in there that I've never dissected, but staying drunk from age 18 to forty helped I think. I drank to forget and it worked! (Shit, I was only drunk like the last eight years of that run. Totally stoned on other good stuff for the early parts of it.) Why am I telling you this? And you? And you? Gotta come out sometime I s'pose. Thanks for the reminder of getting picked second to last in sandlot baseball games. It's all coming back to me now... Posted by: fp on August 5, 2002 12:01 AMOkay. I used to think I was pitiful when I would lie in the crip whining for company but grandma never came because she was too busy doing chores and would lie there in what was close to sensory deprivavtion and just wonder why I had to be the loneliest guy in the world and I couldn't have been more than about three when this was going on. Anyway, if you think that was rejection, imagine how I felt today, just crawling down Shelley's "My Neighborhood" list when I discovered she had pruned me from it. Probably my bad breath. I didn't fart, really. The dog did it. Posted by: fp on August 5, 2002 04:55 PMPost a comment
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