Hi friends. Tonight, I'm going to teach you a life lesson from the perspective of a 22 (almost 23) year old. Today's lesson is on rejection. Yes, rejection. The word itself sounds unhappy, does it not? I debated creating this post because I've been having a pretty difficult time coming to terms in my own mind about this rejection. The
problem thing is, writing is therapeutic for me. Truly. Even if I write one sentence, throw a picture on the screen, and sign my name, I feel better.
Personally, I think you could be 15 or 63 years old and still have a significant story of rejection that serves a true purpose in your growth as person. Everyone has dealt with it. Everyone will tell you they have dealt with it when it happens to you. And everyone understands that there are plenty of positives with one negative.
I try to steer clear of writing about work because the organizations I work for may have rules about such things. Even still, I've been working part time at the hospital where I had my internship. I have been so grateful to be able to continue some portion of work there in this in-between stage after college. I learn something new every single day and I still am in shock that this opportunity is in my hands. As a health educator, there are plenty of jobs. The
problem thing is, there are plenty of health educators who want similar jobs. Recently, I was presented with an incredible opportunity: an interview. If you know me, you will know that interviews make me feel nauseous and restless. The weekend before the interview I had approximately 6 hours of sleep. So this blessing of an interview came as a startling surprise! Most entry-level health educators aren't "qualified" on paper so people do not bother with an interview. Since I have been at the hospital interning, volunteering, and contracting, I have been able to meet many professionals in the health field. I knew the woman I interviewed with and, in fact, she encouraged me to apply for the position. I was already grateful. Before I knew it, the interview happened and I felt pretty comfortable about it. As scary as the interview build-up was, I felt confident in all that I had done at the hospital. I could provide detailed information about how I have grown as a health educator since the first day I walked into the building. I had a sneaky feeling that something would come of this.
A couple weeks later, I received that dreaded e-mail from HR. "The position has been filled" was all I saw. It didn't say I filled it. I was heartbroken...and rejected. I read this e-mail and told myself to take a deep breath. Before I knew it, I was gasping for air because I could not stop sobbing. Hold on, that's not what I told myself. It's pretty difficult to hide your feelings when you face rejection. I'm sure many can relate. It's not a glamorous sight, that is for sure. Of course, my close friends and family can say they are sorry and that there is something down the road, but in that moment, I cannot hear. I cannot think. I cannot put into words my disappointment. In the back of my mind, I know it to be true, but sometimes you just have a sense of shock take hold of your body and no words sound like the right words.
I know I just graduated college. I know I'm not as "experienced" as someone with higher education or more work-related experience. I know I've spent more time in the hospital and have the drive and determination that it takes to successfully work in such a position. I know my time will come, but it's always devastating to hear that my time will be delayed indefinitely. A day or two later, I had realized what all of my loved ones had told me. I know it's hard to accept rejection. It truly is one of the less enjoyable things in life, but it does happen a lot. In my field and in my life, I try to remind myself that there are worse things. There are always worse things. It's easy to say but sometimes you must fully believe it. I believe it. I'm 22 (almost 23) years old. Opportunities will indeed present themselves...regardless of the fear of rejection.
image via Pinterest Best,
Anne
