Rejection is like getting smacked in the face with a cast iron frying pan. I write this as I am reeling from such a blow. I do not handle rejection well by any stretch of the imagination. I handle it so poorly, in fact, that I generally tend to avoid placing myself in situations where rejection is a possible outcome. Despite every indication that this tactic has not served me well thus far in life, I have continued to stick to it. Up until a short while ago, that is. And wouldn't you know it, but that cast iron frying pan just came out of nowhere and whomped me a good one. After having myself a teensy meltdown, a bit of a cry, and a big ol' whiny bitchfest with some buddies, I'm picking myself up and rearranging myself in a less whomped-looking configuration. I'm trying to nurture a wee little bubble of "I'll show you" bravado before it pops and I go back to cowering in the corner. Because, seriously, I feel like I was robbed. ROBBED, I tells ya!
Truth is, I need this. As much as it hurts, I need to experience this. I don't think I've heard a success story that didn't start out with a long prelude of rejection and failure before that one break. I have now gotten my first failure out of the way. It's time to go fail some more.