I got rejected this week. It sucks, but it happens. And fortunately(?), I’ve been on both sides of it enough times to have a toolkit for getting through it, which I’ll share with you here today. Feel free to send this along to someone who needs it!
A note on being the person who does the rejecting: That also fucking sucks! I hate it! Many of these tips can be adapted in some way to suit your needs if you’re struggling emotionally in the aftermath of rejecting someone, especially since I think similar feelings of shame can come up in both scenarios (although my shame, when doing the rejecting, is less “No one will ever love me again” and more “I am a heartless bitch who doesn’t deserve any of the love she receives,” but I digress).
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Step 1: Go sicko mode (no, not like that)
When something emotionally devastating happens to me, I treat myself as if something physically devastating has happened to me – like I’ve gotten a bad flu, for instance. It’s not an entirely inaccurate framing; the sadness and self-doubt that follow a rejection will last a certain amount of time and then resolve, like flus (usually) do, and during that time, your capacity will be lowered. It’s kinder to yourself and to the people in your life if you keep that in mind and make plans (or change plans) accordingly.
Notably, for people with certain chronic conditions like mine, an emotional devastation can indeed trigger an episode of physical illness, making it extra important that you take good care of yourself at this difficult time. I ate a lot of comfort foods this week like I do when I’m sick (because I was indeed flaring up): soup, oatmeal, anything cheesy and potatoey, etc. I also didn’t do as many social things this week as I otherwise might’ve, and didn’t force myself to do any non-urgent work tasks or household chores. Ideally you’d strike some kind of balance between listening to your body and rotting depressedly in bed – although frankly, sometimes that’s a distinction without a difference – but I tend to err on the side of “more rest = better,” especially in the first few days after a rejection.
Step 2: Physically wash off the bad vibes.
Whenever you can bear it, get in the shower. That might be twenty minutes after the rejection, or it might be three days later, but sooner is best, because you really will feel better afterward. Scrub yourself clean, wash the tears off your face (even if they continue to flow as you do so), and rid yourself of any scents or residues that might be lingering from the scene of the crime, as it were.
Throw the clothes you were wearing into a laundry basket to be dealt with another day (or cathartically launder ‘em immediately, if that’s more your style – couldn’t be me, though). If you have the fortitude, this could also be a good time for some self-care in the form of exfoliation or other skincare. At the very least, put on a good face moisturizer after you shower, because tears are drying, honey!
Further to step #1, at this point you should also pick out the comfiest, coziest loungewear outfit you can assemble – the kind of thing you’d wear if you had the flu – and put it on.
Step 3: Remember it’s not personal.
Here’s a paradox for ya: You shouldn’t take it personally when someone isn’t attracted to you, because attraction is so personal.
I know that’s confusing, so I’ll explain what I mean. The patterns of human attraction are a swirling mystery, even to people who study them professionally. The qualities which attract us to (or repel us from) potential partners can be influenced by our past and our present, our exes and our ones-who-got-away, our insecurities and neuroses, our mood and mindset, where we are in our hormonal cycle, and infinite other factors. And furthermore, there’s not a whole lot we can do to change what we are and are not attracted to. If you’ve ever met someone who seemed great “on paper” but just didn’t spark anything in you, then you know exactly how frustrating this can be – and how futile it is to “force it”!
When someone rejects us, we often hear it as “Eww, absolutely not, you’re gross!” – especially since sometimes people are assholes and do literally say stuff like that! – but the truth is, their rejection is a statement about their own attractions, and not about your attractiveness, both of which are entirely subjective. As Dita Von Teese says, “You can be the ripest, juiciest peach in the world, and there's still going to be somebody who hates peaches.”
Step 4: Severely limit contact and posting.
When I was drafting this piece in my journal, I shorthanded this point as “GIRL, DON’T!!!”
Listen to me, dear sweet recently rejected babe. Your emotions are zany as fuck right now. It is not the time to message the person who just turned you down, no matter how urgently you may want to. It is also not the time to subtweet them in any medium except your journal. (A journal is a GREAT place to subtweet somebody, trust me. You can even draw a little social media interface in there if you want, to make it feel more real. Maybe you get a fake reply from fake Cher that’s like, “You tell ‘em, sweetheart!!”)
Do whatever it takes to ensure that you do not text your crush and do not post about them. You know yourself best, so you probably know what steps need to be taken here. No alcohol after 9 p.m.? No Instagram after sundown? Lock your phone in a drawer? Give it to a trusted friend for a day or two? Throw your laptop into the local swamp? Do what you gotta do, darling.
If you find yourself truly and enduringly CONVINCED that there is a message you MUST send, or a post you MUST make, draft it in your notes app and show it to at least 3 level-headed friends for feedback before you even CONSIDER going through with it. I am not kidding about this one! Learn from my mistakes! Put the phone down and back away slowly!
Step 5: Compliments are fuel.
Chicken noodle soup is to a cold as compliments are to rejection. That is to say: they’re a comfort, and they might even be (part of) the cure.
Some of the ‘sickness’ that overtakes us after rejection is the lethargy of shaken confidence. I have felt off-kilter this week, off-track, off my game, because one person’s judgment can sometimes feel like it’s everyone’s judgment – like everyone must secretly be thinking what that one person was brave enough to say. I assure you that this simply isn’t true, but our brains tend to need ‘proof’ of such things, and compliments are some of the best proof that you aren’t, in fact, a universally unloveable monster.
Compliments can come from many sources. You can screenshot any complimentary texts/emails/tweets/etc. that you receive and keep them in a folder on your phone to review when you need ‘em. You can reach out to some friends and ask if they’ll tell you what they think your 3 best qualities are, in exchange for you telling them the same about themselves. You can post a selfie online somewhere (perhaps even anonymously on Reddit) and fish for praise. You can stand in front of a mirror and force yourself to give yourself ten compliments in a row even if it’s hard. Do whatever you can to replenish your ego, because that thing has been drained.
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Step 6: Externalize critical voices.
It used to be that when I was rejected, a self-critical voice would come up in my head immediately, and I would accept and believe whatever it said to me, because I thought it was me. It felt self-protective and smart to say things to myself like, “You should’ve known this would happen, because you’re ugly and no one would ever want you.” But through Internal Family Systems therapy, I’ve gained the language to be able to say: There is a part of me that is saying some very mean things to me right now, and although she feels her reasons for doing so are important and justified, I don’t actually have to take her opinions onboard. All I have to do is be compassionately curious about why she is saying these things to me. What does she think she is achieving? What does she think would happen if she stopped?
I did a lot of IFS work on my own this week, appearing externally to just be lying in bed with my eyes closed, while having conversations in my mind with various ‘parts’ of myself. (Being a crazy person rules, man.) I made real good friends with that self-critical voice, and learned she’s been around since middle school, working hard to keep me from ever taking risks, by constantly telling me I’m too ugly to ever be desired. She’s just doing what she thinks is right: trying to protect me. Trying to protect us. But I’ve calmly explained to her that taking well-considered risks is good, actually, especially in matters of the heart, which brings me to my next point…
Step 7: Take away the right lesson.
Upon getting rejected, some people take away the lesson, “There is something wrong with me and I am inherently unloveable.” Nope! Not true. See point #3 above.
Some people instead take away the lesson, “There is something wrong with the person who turned me down, or with the world at large, and that is why I was rejected.” Incels fall squarely into this category, and taken to its extremes, this type of logic often leads to prejudice, hatred, and outright violence. I understand the impulse to think this way, since turning your pain outward in the form of vengeful anger can feel emotionally safer than letting yourself actually experience the vulnerability of that pain. But, as discussed, people have almost no control over who they’re attracted to, so it doesn’t make much sense to vilify them for their lack of interest in you. (Can you be mad at someone for rejecting you in a hurtful/cruel way? You sure can, and I often have been! But that’s a separate issue from the rejection itself, and obviously still doesn’t warrant the types of violence that some incels have perpetrated when spurned.)
So if both of these lessons are wrong, then what’s the right lesson to take away from rejection? Here’s what I think it is: You did a brave risky thing, and sometimes brave risky things don’t work out, and that’s what makes it all the more impressive when they do work out, which has happened before and will happen again, just not this time. You got turned down and you survived – which means you are strong and will be better equipped to handle future situations of this nature, no matter which way they might go. Dating is a numbers game, and you didn’t hit the jackpot this time, but you’ve got plenty more casino chips in your pocket, and the night is young.
Step 8: Express your feelings creatively and somatically.
Ah, two of my favorite words!
You’re gonna have feelings about being rejected. There’s no way around it. And as adults, we are responsible for how we handle our feelings. We are responsible for ensuring, for instance, that we don’t call the object of our affections from a bar bathroom at 3 a.m. and leave them six weepy voicemails about the beautiful life we could’ve had together. (I’ve never done that, but there have definitely been times when I wanted to…!)
Therapy and books like Burnout have convinced me that we need to move stressors through our bodies somehow, or else they just get stuck and make us feel paralyzed, weighed down. As much as rejection makes me want to sit on the couch ruminating for hours, I always feel better when I take the opposite action and force myself to do something that’s creative, somatic, or both.
Creativity is a wonderful outlet and distraction. I always like to journal after a rejection, for example, because it helps me unpack my feelings while also giving me the fun challenge of arranging my thoughts into an entertaining and insightful narrative of some kind (even if I’m literally the only intended reader and am just writing to entertain myself). I also like to write songs when I’m sad, since I think some of the best ones come from that place. Expressing yourself creatively isn’t just a cathartic distraction, and it doesn’t just lead to good art; it can be an avenue for emotional self-reflection and growth, one of the major silver linings of being rejected.
When I say you should do something ‘somatic,’ I just mean something body-based – which could be going for a walk or run, or doing some yoga, or beating the shit out of a pillow for ten minutes. As the Nagoski sisters argue in Burnout, physical movement is often the key to “completing the stress cycle” that would otherwise keep you trapped in those bad feelings. Oh yeah, and masturbation totally counts as a somatic activity; more on that below.
Step 9: Seek whatever pleasures you’re craving.
Once I’ve done some journaling and emotional processing, I might be ready to consider a question that is both difficult and important: What attracted me to the person who rejected me, and how can I bring more of those qualities into my life? (If you’re still at a stage where just reading that question makes you sob, you might not be ready to think deeply about it yet… or then again, maybe now’s the perfect time!)
Sometimes I’ll literally sit down and make a list. I like that this person is funny! Great, so I should go to more comedy shows and take more improv classes. I like that this person is warm and welcoming! Cool, I can work on being that way in more of the spaces I hang out in. I like that this person is smart and well-cultured! Awesome, maybe I could start working my way through my Letterboxd watchlist, join a local book club, or try to pick somebody up outside a Mensa meeting. (Just kidding. Unless…?!)
But of course, not all the pleasures you seek have to be linked to your crush in any way. In fact, sometimes it’s fun to ponder: What can I enjoy by myself that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy as much with that person? What gorgeous artsy movie would they get bored by, what bold new restaurant would confound their palate, what tingly lip gloss would they have complained about after a kiss? Go seek out that stuff, and enjoy it!
Masturbation, naturally, is one way to seek pleasure after a rejection, but I often find it hard to tolerate, for days or even weeks afterward. Either I sexually fantasize and my mind drifts to things that make me cry, or I pull up some porn and start feeling bitterly jealous about the relationships in the scenes I’m watching… Not exactly a rife brainspace for arousal! But sometimes I can eke out a quick, endorphin-pumping orgasm if I use a strong enough vibrator and keep my psychological blinders on like a racetrack horse, relentlessly refocusing on a reliable fantasy when my mind wanders. Hmm, maybe I should conceptualize myself as being my own domme in those moments, ready to crack the whip any time my thoughts stray from sexy stuff…
Step 10: When all else fails, breathe through it.
In the days after a rejection, I will sometimes be hit by a random wave of embarrassment, a full-body cringe. It’s happened several times already today, in fact. My whole body language changes. I get all tensed up, my gaze drops to the floor in shame, and I start trudging instead of strutting. When this happens, I’m having an emotional flashback to the rejection, and to all the prior rejections it reminded me of.
To use the illness metaphor again, I think of these cringe attacks as equivalent to the intermittent bouts of nausea or dizziness you might go through while sick. They’re usually short-lived, but they’re all-consuming and they fucking suck, so you have to breathe through them and coach yourself through each moment – which, incidentally, is also how I get through heavy sadomasochistic scenes. When the cringe hits, I’ll take some deep, slow breaths and try to think exclusively about my breathing for at least ten seconds or so – enough time that the intrusive thoughts pass, for now, and I can lift my head and look up at the world again. This too shall pass. It’s true on a moment-to-moment basis, and also on a heartbreak-to-heartbreak basis. You will be okay. You will.
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