Today just hammered me with a punch in the solar plexus. I had tried to prepare myself but, when you’re hoping against hope for something and it feels like all your future rides on it, it’s hard to stay positive when it all comes crashing down.
My daughter - who would never let rejection get her down.
I got the phone call I’d been waiting for this morning but the news was not what I wanted to hear. Because I was in a shared office I did what any self respecting adult does: I hid in a toilet cubicle and cried. The tears were part sadness and part anger at myself: for thinking I’d stood a chance, for letting this thing be so important and for crying in a frigging toilet.
Now I’m trying to get myself together the only way I know how – by writing.
While I sobbed in the toilets I went through all the usual stages I go through when I get rejected. If I make it sound like this is a commonplace thing, it’s because it is. I was an actor for years and being an actor means facing rejection on an almost daily basis and receiving it nine times out of ten. Playwriting takes a lot longer so the rejections tend to be spaced a bit further apart. (Hmm, maybe that’s part of the problem: I’m out of practice.)
Now that I’m stepping out of my bruised chest and into my head, I’m starting to get some perspective on the whole thing. (This is why I love writing.) I thought I’d share the processes I go through when dealing with rejection. There might be someone out there who’ll recognise themself in some of it and won’t feel quite as alone.
Four stages of rejection
1. Denial: It must be a mistake. Maybe I’m dreaming. Maybe this a parallel universe where everything goes wrong …
Physical symptoms: stomach churning, winded, light headed.
2. Acceptance: Oh God – it did happen.
Physical symptoms: Intense pain and tears.
3. Despair: I’m no good. I’ve never been any good. Everything good that’s happened has been a fluke or a mistake. I’m useless and I should do everyone a favour and give up now.
Physical symptoms: more tears, panic, nausea and a longing for escape.
4. Determination: I’ll show those bastards.
I don’t have physical symptoms for this one as I don’t tend to reach it. But I hear other people express things like this and always feel really impressed that their anger fuels them to keep going and to strive harder.
I think perhaps the reason I keep going is to get myself out of number three and so that I can stop hating myself. You see, when I was younger, I used to stay at number three for a long time. Sometimes a really long time. I would go into a dark place and it would be very hard to find my way back out again. Like a bear withdrawing to a cave to survive winter’s harshness, I would retreat, only to face the far harsher attacks of my own mind. The real world rejection was nothing compared to the hammering I’d inflict on my already bruised self.
Today I went into, and got out of, number three in the space of a few hours. That’s unheard of for me and I was feeling pretty damn proud of myself until I remembered the little pill that I take every morning…
Just over a year ago I was prescribed an anti-anxiety medication and I’ve been taking it every day since. It’s calmed my panic attacks and, while I think of it as an anti-anxiety medication, it’s actually an anti-depressant. So, perhaps my cave days were actually depression. And maybe the reason I’m coping better now is chemical.
I don’t know how to feel about that. Whether it makes my victory over the crying girl in the toilet a real victory or just a drug induced one. Have I learnt and grown or am I still as trapped in old habits as I ever was?
I don’t have any answers. But I know that today was awful and I’ve survived it better than I would have in the past. If that’s thanks to a pill, then I’m grateful help is so readily available.
Thank you Katherine for such a heartfelt but helpful post. I am some way off even submitting work at this stage, but your recipe for handling the inevitable rejection when I do will certainly stand me in good stead.
Good on you Katherine! I hear you on the pills. I’m not on them anymore but they can make a big difference, so it’s smart to use them when they’re needed.
And there’s great stuff out there ahead of you, of that I have no doubt
Thank you for your kind words, Tony. I’ve just had a look at your blog and it’s fabulous – so hopefully you’ll be submitting work soon and facing acceptance instead of rejection.
Good luck!
Wow you truly are a talented woman KLW! Your words are honest, brave and gripping – gripping in the kind that you can’t stop reading once you start and you want to read faster but don’t want it to end either.
There’s a big hug in this message for you and I hope that you’re now cuddled up at home with those that matter most.
I’m so sorry you didn’t get the news you wanted today. Congratulations on your journey though – you’ve come along way by the sounds of it and that matters today, tomorrow and on from there.
xxxx
Thanks for this post, Katherine. Rejections are so damn hard – I don’t know any other career where rejection is a constant, rather than an exception.
How do we keep going? Why do we keep going? Because we have to, because we want to, because we’re born to write.
That’s why the pieces of ourselves get put back together and we get back on that damned horse.
Atta, girl!
Hello gorgeous, brave, wonderful woman. I understand where you’re at and am sending you a million hugs. Rejection is a bitch, no matter how calm and mature you may be – I suck at accepting it and know your cave well – perhaps we shared its gloomy corridors once upon a time and didn’t realise we weren’t alone in there. Re the chemicals – I struggled with that one then stopped struggling. Life’s really just a journey of struggles and submissions, victories and rejections, all of which make us who we are. In your case, though I am sorry for the shitty bits you’ve endured, I am glad they shaped you into the marvellous human being you are today. xxx
The victory is yours, Katherine, not the pills. Depression/anxiety is a true medical condition when the body gets stuck in “stage 3″ chemistry. You can’t get yourself out of it because the normal connection between thought and brain chemistry isn’t functioning – instead, the bad feelings lead you to keep finding thoughts that express the feelings… hence the time in the cave. The pills allow your thoughts and spirit to connect to your body they way they’re meant to.
So even despite all those years when the connection wasn’t working well, you have the strength and skills to have your thoughts lift you out of the pit in just a few hours. You have learned wonderful strategies of using writing to lift you up, find perspective and get your thoughts leading your feelings. You are strong and teriffic!