“I want you to live your life...and see what’s out there for you.” The last words—which have been obnoxiously replaying in my head but a reminder to not go back—I received a month ago from the guy who I really liked. (Another blog entry for another day.)
Now, before we consider him the typical “jerk” or antagonist for the tear-jerker moment from a Rom-Com flick—I’m not quick to object anyone’s opinion considering my feelings being hurt, he could definitely take the jab—understand that’s not why I’m typing this entry. This moment makes me realize how much I hate rejection and its effects. So let’s focus on the real problem: rejection.
If you can relate with receiving those departing words, whether a guy or gal, you can and will agree that the stuff hurts. Rejection hurts.
I don’t know about you but whenever I feel rejected, I shut down and I shut out. I become so cold-hearted that living in winterized Chicago seem ideal to maintain my heart’s below freezing temperatures. Ice cold like the man in the Northern Atlantic from that movie when the woman had enough space... (l-o-l)
Yet, everyone around me is affected by it. I close out my friends. I keep family at a distance. My mind goes on auto-pilot to be indulged and pensive. Recently, I’ve been studying the enneagram and I’m nose-deep into books. I just become... numb. Neh. Stupefied is a suitable description. (Plus, it reminds me one of my favorite novels. Only those precious nerds will relate and get it.)
Anything and anyone that causes me to feel any emotion, I close it off. As a Christian, that certainly includes the Creator, too. I’m good on praying, worshiping and reading scripture. As in... I probably won’t even do those things, although it’s proper of a believer to do those things. By the way, I am one of those Christians who can and will admit I’m not feeling all that keen to do Christian things when I’m feeling some sort of way. It barely lasts though.
When dealing with my frustration, I’ve learned to express and release my anger out on God through journaling and praying. And no, it’s not disrespectful. And no, it’s not blasphemous. I don’t hold anything back when I express and verbalize how I’m feeling or thinking because He already knows, right? Why not speak on it out loud? That means He can help me fix it. (That’ll be a blog subject for another day. Winks.)
I put on a façade and mask my true feelings. I pretend I am happy and unbothered. In all reality, I just want to cry all of my tears away. Please don’t think I’m like Joe when I say this but my extreme sociopathic tendencies begin to surface when I’m at my worse and my series of severe chronic depression broil.
And doesn’t it suck that rejection makes us question our worth?! Can it just stop at whoever doesn’t want us and not begin with the rabbit holes of wanting to know why? No! Rejection insists on going further. It invades. It has no common courtesy of respecting private space.
Now, I’m going a little beyond than romantic companionship when I speak on this part of rejection. When denied for or from an occupational position, higher learning institution, social organization, the in-crowd, notification of someone disagreeing with you, searching to see that a person unfollowed you or a small human putting you in the ‘stranger danger zone’ due to your over-friendliness, and the list goes on... You start an internal 60 minute Oprah Super Soul Conversation with yourself.
You become 50 Cent AND Meagan Good in 21 Questions. You start asking yourself a series of questions. “What’s wrong with you?” “Are you ever going to amount to anything?” “Why didn’t you just settle with that person who tried hard to impress you?” “Why didn’t you just allow the mistreatment at that job?” “Why don’t you change yourself?” “Why do you have to be so [...]?” “Do you really think anyone will EVER love you?”
And don’t get me started on the presidential party campaign refute you’ll start about yourself. You’ll start shanking yourself with thoughts you made up or that others imposed on you. “You’re shallow and no one wants to stay in the kiddy pool or low tides for long.” “You’re too intimidating! No man wants an independent woman. Compromise that!” “You’re very soft and emotional for a man. Be more tough!” “You should have negotiated your worth.” “Take the back seat. Be unseen.” “Don’t speak up. It’s not your place.” “You’ll never belong.” You’ll compare yourself to others. You even start to consider events that date back to years or decades ago that has nothing to do with rejection or companionship. You’ll start to wish that maybe, just maybe, you had washed those dishes or taken out the trash when you were told or asked to do so or put more effort into that research paper. These instances solely depend on your age... The point is rejection is hard to face, deal with and to get through.
Understand, if you have no idea who I am or what I stand for, please know I’m the last person who’d you could ever call shallow, insecure, feeble-minded, shrinking, timorous or unconfident. Those adjectives are far from accurate—even at my worse or weakest moments. In fact, I’ve been considered to be menacing, brutal, insensitive, a**hole-ish, harsh and any other word synonymous to callous. I wouldn’t be quick to defy those remarks because it varies upon my standpoint or attitude. Even then... Those words don’t describe my true character. When I’m intentionally barricaded to deflect my vulnerabilities, those words are justice and indisputable.
But throughout my life, I’ve known myself to be tender, gentle, caring, extremely loving, empathetic, protective and forbearing. And those who have shown me they’re trustworthy to meet that side, they would totally agree. But that’s the side I like to keep out of sight, out of mind, out of reach and out of thought for others because this side is valuable to me. Precious. In my mind, everyone does not deserve or need to see that side of me. That side of me is delicate like fine China. She does not take to betrayal, rejection or attacks lightly. She’s quick to roar and to cut you out of her life. This is how she has learned to protect herself and to avoid conflict if she can help it. This is one way how she maintains control over her life.
But that’s who I’ve been yearning to be. That side of me is the sweetest chick you’ll ever meet and I love her. That’s the side of me that I wish I wasn’t so afraid to show people; yet, life’s misfortunes has beckoned her to retreat to the depths and only come up in rare circumstances for dire needs of others. Or if you’ve known me for years and you’ve shown me to remove some layers back to get closer to the core.
From 2019 into 2020, especially within these past few months, I realized the mass of my memory has more so to do with rejection, inflicted damage, and being outcasted that I actually have concluded that I’ve been the culprit and reason of the hurt I’ve been experiencing all along (in the dynamics of businesses, organizations, friendships and companionships.) I’ve been withholding the most valuable part of myself: my golden, tender-heart. I have robbed myself. No one else is to blame except for me. I am my problem. Maybe, that’s just it... When dealing with rejection, I feel like that side of me, my vulnerabilities and imperfections, all which are valuable to me, are not wanted. Yet, I don’t even show or share them. So why do I even trip? I keep them hidden for that very reason to limit my trauma. (Another blog topic for another day.) It’s normal but I’m seeing it isn’t healthy.
You see... trauma is easily triggered when things like this happen. You have to think back to its origin and a lot of times, it will start with parents or the absence of them and their behavior and parenting tactics. For me, it was definitely regarding my parents. For a large chunk of my childhood, I witnessed my dad‘s alcoholism and he made remarks that will onset the years of battling men and threatening them to never cross the line of disrespecting me. (Because it will get bad and I will win the war. I’m powerful with words and I’ll strip him of his manhood through jarring words he’ll put on as clothing. Which isn’t good and a place I hate to go but will if needed.) And then, I always sought a certain level of affection from my mom that she was never taught to give. After a certain age, I felt discarded almost. Only good enough to be embraced for achievements. Nothing more. Together, I saw my parents have a codependent and toxic relationship. I hated it. I didn’t want that. I saw the damage it caused me, my younger brother and my trauma showed for it in my interactions with men. (But they did their best. I love and honor my parents. Don’t get it twisted! They helped produce a vital woman.)
But I was left empty-handed of expectation from both parents. I always felt like I wasn’t ever going to amount to anything for anyone, especially in intimate relationships, so they could see my precious desire to love someone the way I know I can because it wasn’t given to me. So that’s why I primarily stay single. And I’m sure I take risks with the wrong guys. Or it could be the wrong timing... The fact that I’m still not healthy for men (and some were probably right for me) but the score of emotional intelligence has been well-level low. Wrong or not, trying the romance thing prove that my stance and desire of remaining single is safe. I’m OK with safe. Safe is where I’ll stay.
If you have ever faced rejection, it is beneficial to take this moment as a mirror moment. Use this an opportunity of reflection to analyze yourself through rejection. (Notice: I used the word analyze and not demean.) Use the moment as an initiative to evaluate yourself but to not overly criticize yourself. Ask yourself questions along the lines of: “Why did and why are you reacting the way you are to this moment?” “What are you afraid of?” “Why do you feel worthless?” “Why are you broken-hearted?” “What does this moment and/or who does this person remind you of?” “Why does it?” “What are you feeling?”
Constantly have heart and mind checks! Ask your heart and mind questions. It helps to journal the questions and responses. And by journal, you don’t have to physically write it. Some people should use their phone’s notes or voice recording features. You could even document it by video recording yourself. It is most helpful when you withdraw from or minimize socializing for a bit to really help you focus. (We’ll talk about the worry of offending friends and the thin line of isolation and seclusion in another blog. Those are two completely different notions.) And it most certainly helps to seek professional and spiritual counsel through this, too. They are equipped and purposely placed to help you! You won’t ever regret investing in self-health.
I realized I’ve been rejecting parts of me that need attention and affection. Instead of giving another person that role, responsibility or power,—and it is very likely that they can’t even do that for themselves or will be good at it concerning myself—I rather take it on. Although, in the very heat of the moment, it feels like rejection... It’s actually a window opening to lure you in to notice you just might be rejecting something about yourself that needs your undivided attention to be nurtured back to health.
For Christians, you better invite and allow Jesus in this part of your journey! It may be difficult but you don’t get to choose anymore. The day you were baptized in the Holy Spirit—with or without water—was the day you declared, “No longer me but we, Lord!” He will be the ONLY ONE to get you through it. And for those who are more open to spirituality or even for those who don’t believe in anything, be careful. Practicing certain things opens your life to extensive demonic oppression and turmoil. If you’re strong enough to endure it through humanly ways, go for it! I am rooting for you! But you’re not excluded from undeniable truths that self-evaluation and professional psychological assistance are essential.
And I don’t welcome reliving the emotions but I do have to say, “thank you,” to the recent guy who encouraged me to see what’s out there and the guys before him, too! They have literally been catalysts to embark this tactful self-exploring journey to passionately love myself, to know I deserve better and for them to know they deserve better, too. If I’m being honest, I know my spiritual and emotional health are malnourished. A man, especially ones who are yet still broken, don’t need that heap of stress on their plate. I’d be selfish to know that and still get involved.
Whoever my husband may be, he is more than deserving of an authentic, healthy version of me in the form of a masterpiece. The Artist hasn’t finished painting the first piece and I will not rush it. A pinch of what it means to be Accepting All of You. Until next time.
Lovingly,
Ebony M. Acton🌸
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