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Inklin

Easy A

This afternoon, I received a rejection e-mail from a company I had applied to.


It sucked b****s.


It set off an avalanche of emotions ranging from fear and disappointment to anger and frustration.


Not what I needed today when I was trying to get my head back in the game. Not what I needed while fending off work calls, smiling at clients with my soulless eyes over Zoom, and attempting to build up a momentum that I could use to propel myself forwards through the mountain of job applications still awaiting me.


I went into flop mode – straight to bed, not a word more to anybody online or offline. I just wanted to shut down the blow before it could take out any more of my systems. It probably wasn't the best thing to do.


Because I had to wake up.


I had to get out of bed, an hour before midnight, to realise I still have a whole sleepless night ahead of me if I don't address these feelings properly.


That begs the question: what is the proper way to address them?


Most self-help materials online would have you believe that the proper way to deal with the crushing blow of rejection is to sit at your laptop and continue typing away as if it never happened.



But I really want to smash a chair.


(For obvious reasons, such as I'm Asian and live with my mother, I can't.)


I can, however, sit with it.


Rejection hurts me probably no more than it hurts other people. But it feels as if it hits me harder because I have low self-esteem, and have only ever really worked within the realm of my comfort zone. Here, I have never needed to send out a resume or a cover letter. I am praised for my work, and I receive love openly. A few people have pointed out how fortunate this is, and I really do believe it.


That is why I feel so guilty admitting that I want more.


At the bottom of the rejection is a deep shame that I am not satisfied with what I have, and that I want more. I don't even feel worthy of the jobs I'm applying for (but that's for another blog post and day). As the rejections pile in, I sink a little deeper in my shame and belief that this is all proof that I don't deserve the positions I'm applying for, and that I'm really not as competent or accomplished as I believed.


Just this Sunday, something caught my attention during the Gospel reading.


The scribes and Pharisees brought a woman along who had been committing adultery; and making her stand there in full view of everybody, they said to Jesus, "Master, this woman was caught in the very act of committing adultery, and Moses has ordered us in the Law to condemn women like this to death by stoning. What have you to say?"
They asked him this as a test, looking for something to use against him. But Jesus bent down and started writing on the ground with his finger. As they persisted with their question, he looked up and said, "If there is one of you who has not sinned, let him be the first to throw a stone at her."
Then he bent down and wrote on the ground again.
When they heard this, they went away one by one, beginning with the eldest, until Jesus was left alone with the woman, who remained standing there. He looked up and said, "Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?"
"No one, sir," she replied.
"Neither do I condemn you," said Jesus. "Go away, and do not sin anymore."

It's a far cry from adultery, but I'm the woman in this story. The scribes and the Pharisees live within, and the people holding up stones, ready for the throw, are all me, just with different cries of humiliation and hurt.


I can't bear to beat myself up now, remembering this. I can't bear to hate myself for getting rejected, for seemingly being so worthless. All this makes me want to do is to be gentle with myself in the present, and say, "Hey. It's okay."


Remembrance is so small but it can do so much. I usually try to plough past my disappointment or sleep it away, drowning it out either with too much activity or none at all. But the only way to put it to rest is to sit with it and let it go.


So let it burn. It hurts, but I'm not afraid of the pain now because I know it will not consume me.



(Yassssssssssss Taylor + Gospel reflection = the perfect end to Monday, fight me.)


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