I was demoted from superior, and the blow came just hours after our clan leader reassured us that it wasn’t personal. But all I know is that Astarte is no longer among the elite, and my worth felt like it was on the chopping block—and got cleavered.
Rejection, whether from a game on your phone, a close friend, or a family member, is universally painful. None of us will escape its sting, disappointment, or the way it triggers our wounds of abandonment. So, how do we cope when it feels like everything’s been taken from us, leaving us with nothing but a big pile of doo?
The Physical and Emotional Impact
When I learned about rejection’s roots in hunter-gatherer times, it started to make more sense. Back then, dependence on the tribe was crucial for survival, and rejection from the tribe meant certain death. Although this understanding doesn’t take away the initial sting, knowing that your life isn’t at stake can provide comfort in the discomfort.
Rejection hits all the buttons—physiological and emotional. It makes our hearts sink, our throats tighten, and our eyes lose their sparkle. It changes our perspective of who we are, turning us from someone to no one. Rejection kills hope, dreams, and who we can become.
Coping and Moving Forward
After the physical and emotional symptoms subside, the next domino to fall is usually negative self-talk: “If only I’d…” or “How could I be so stupid?” At this point, the bully in our mind steps in, determined to ensure we never repeat the same mistake. Depending on our relationship with ourselves and the significance of the rejection, this can lead to self-harm and isolation.
So, what can we do? First, validate your emotions with compassion. “This is hard, it sucks, and I’m sorry this happened” is a good start. Don’t bury it or put it on the shelf like it didn’t happen. It did, it sucks, and by acknowledging your feelings, you give them the space they need to be heard. Talking about them with a friend or writing them down can also be helpful. For over two years, I have used a blog as an outlet, and I journaled for many years before that. Although I was alone, seeing my confusion and pain on paper provided an objectivity I wouldn’t have had otherwise.
Some people paint or garden—doing something that splits their attention and uses the feelings as fuel can turn the experience into something meaningful. Suffering for suffering’s sake only deepens our pain, but pain accompanied by meaning lessens it, giving it purpose.
Another helpful approach is reframing. For instance, in my clan, instead of seeing my demotion as a blow to my self-worth, I chose to view it as a learning experience that could help me bridge the gap for others.
Personal growth is uncomfortable, but on the other side is resilience—the knowledge that you can do hard things. And how much more empowering is “I can do hard things” than “How stupid can I be?” It’s a no-brainer.
Thank you so much for being here.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 