An Open Letter To The Spirit of Rejection

Dear Rejection,

Man. I feel like we’ve been at this thing a long time–you pulling me in and me going along, weeping together at how nobody cares about me, how nobody would miss me if I ended up gone. I used to be so comfortable sitting there, just you and me together in that familiar sorrow. All alone. Us against a cruel world that didn’t understand me or want to try.

Sigh. You got me.

None of the stuff you said was true. You have basically lied to me my whole life. People do love me, do care about what happens to me, do value me for more than what I do for them, do enjoy my presence and intelligence and sense of humor. You had me crying over lies, my dude.

And you enjoyed my suffering. While you crocodile teared me, you were feeding off twisting my emotions into little sad knots of feeling unheard and unseen. You got big and strong while I became more and more isolated. I nearly died while you snickered behind my back at how depressed and miserable I was. I thought you were protecting me by keeping me away from folks who could hurt me but you were just protecting yourself. Can’t eat off a person who knows how to connect to people, huh?

If I could, I’d knock you out.

Anyway, I’m done. I’m out. I know my value and I can see myself now. I can see you. I can see how you’ve stood between me and all that I’ve ever wanted, using the people around me as weapons–swords upon which I impaled myself instead of falling into open arms filled with love. Your occupation of my mind never let me see what was in front of me: people really have always cared.

By the way: THANK YOU.

You made me the mother, the wife, the teacher I am today. Because I have walked in intense pain all that time we hung out together, I can see when you’ve been needling your way into someone else’s affections. And I can intervene. Because I know all your tricks. Our time together has become my anointing, the place where I heal the ones like me–walking the earth wondering desperately if there was any space for their brand of self, any value in themselves. So thank you for making me an instrument of peace.

Yours Truly,

The girl who chose love instead


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