10 Benefits to Overcoming Fear of Rejection
Trying out new sizes of paper and different inks
‘The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore.’
— Vincent Van Gogh
I
I was socially conditioned to consider everyone else’s needs first at the cost of my own. I hate admitting this but in the framework of Transactional Analysis, a psychotherapy framework, I am a Compliant Child.
Yes, this is despite being a staunchly independent adult who’s roamed the world alone for most of my life, who’s never said no to adventure and who – by appearance at least – has lived by my own rules. I suppose I just did it all politely.
I wouldn’t give anyone room to say they didn’t like my writing or other creative output by holding myself back and keeping it bland and inoffensive. But what’s the point of bland? It doesn’t actually say anything of consequence, of resonance. I did it because it helped keep at bay the very real dread of rejection.
On top of the Compliant Child business, I’m also a perfectionist. So being rejected is a double whammy. If I was going to share something, it had to be Just Right. Of course, there’s no such thing, so most of the time, I just wouldn’t do it at all. I rejected them before they could reject me. In essence, I rejected myself before anyone else could.
I actually have a lot of empathy for my gripping anxiety. We are social animals, and the fear of being banished from the tribe is primal as it used to mean certain death. My contorting myself for social approval is a built-in protective mechanism designed to ensure my survival.
So, it worked, just as it’s designed to. But only up to a point. It kept me ‘safe’ but for someone who’s always yearned to be creative, this was a huge problem. Because I stopped myself from really putting myself out there and speaking my deep truth.
I knew that if I took any real position on anything, there would be a real risk of opposition. And I hate conflict. I wanted everyone to like me and to approve of me.
II
To get out of this, I changed the rules of the game and did something radical: I set out to collect rejections.
I know! The thought of it first made me feel sick with terror, but as I lived with the idea for a while, it grew on me.
I decided to put myself forward for any opportunity where I could learn something valuable, and/or that could enhance my artistic life and career.
I doubled down on this if anything dropped on my lap instead of my seeking it out: a forward from a friend, a proposal from an acquaintance, a pop-up on social media – all things that earlier I would ignore or immediately say no to. Instead, I began to see them as invitations from the universe, a gentle testing of my nerve. (Indeed, I kept quoting Emily Dickinson to myself again and again: ‘If your nerve deny you, go above your nerve.’)
I started this late-middle of last year and have been averaging about one experiment a month, which is what my nerves (and schedule) can manage.
I applied for a project I knew I had a very slim chance of getting (but if I did get it, I knew I’d embrace it and not regret applying). I did not get it – I was told I was too expensive for them – but I felt oddly courageous just creating the proposal and pressing ‘send’. (Also, yes, I am expensive, and I don’t apologise for it because I trust the value I bring.)
I sent my novel to people who disappeared. Their loss.
As I became a little braver, I created a project where I shared 50 notes on turning 50, and shared it on Instagram. Some people didn’t like it, which felt unexpectedly great. Who knew?
III
The actions may be small, but the effects have been enormous so far. I noted 10 in particular:
1. I didn’t die.
2. I went further creatively than I ever had before. By taking the risk to get out there, I felt expansive, like I was embodying my whole self by saying what I felt was honest and true. Yes, some people disliked it, but going deeper meant it really hit home for others. This was so much more powerful and meaningful all around.
3. As I began to relax and stop fretting so much about rejection and being perfect, I in turn stopped worrying about what other people thought, and this led me to consider what I really want to do, without the fear and anxiety that was keeping me small.
4. I used to think endless rejections meant I was peddling on a stationery bike – going nowhere. But the act of applying and submitting proposals and enquiry letters can be a creative offering in and of itself. I was also putting it out into the ether that I was in the running. I was in the game. And the universe opened up in kind. People recommended me to other people, interesting proposals started coming in sideways. There’s been forward momentum, even if it didn’t feel like it; I’m not where I was before I started doing this.
5. By collecting rejections, I gave myself permission to fail. And as plenty of people have said before me, it’s not possible to have meaningful growth without failure. (Which is what I wanted before – win after guaranteed win. I wish!)
6. Moreover, I began to view my past failures with new respect, and not bury them in shame as I had been doing. A giant film project I’d poured all my energy and love into for years got inexplicably stuck and I’d felt like a real loser about it at the time. Now I can see that it would have been disastrous for umpteen reasons, and I had actually had a lucky escape.
7. Yes, putting myself out there takes effort. The pay off is clarity and it’s worth it. Among other side benefits, I can now describe my dream projects succinctly, I revised my CV (which was long overdue), and I finally redesigned my website, which has proven to be a handy calling card.
8. Rejection is not really ‘loss’ the way I used to view it. The best approach is to apply for things using all my heart, then send it off with love, and move on with my life. By not being clutchy and by being genuinely fine with rejection, I never lose, whatever the outcome.
9. Rejection of my proposals is not a rejection of me. What I do is not who I am, and who I am is not based on what I do (these distinctions were not always clear to me earlier).
10. Being open, brave and honest is not only beneficial to my creative self. This is a formula for life.
IV
Compliance and rebellion, by the way, are two sides of the same coin – they are both reactive. Rebels can do things for the sake of being controversial; ‘this is what the world says and I’m doing the opposite’. Compliant Child-types take the position of avoiding controversy or confrontation; ‘this is what the world says and I’m doing it their way’. Both are bloody exhausting and tiresome.
The antidote is to speak my truth with sensitivity and awareness. This is what I aim for when approaching all challenges, even when there’s a big chance of being told ‘no’.
And each time I do, the Compliant Child in me dies a little. And I couldn’t be more delighted.
‘It is better to have lived one day as a tiger than 1,000 years as a sheep.’
— Tibetan proverb
*for a short making–of video of the painting on this page, see here.
Related Recommendations
In the How to Fail podcast by Elizabeth Day, she interviews successful people about three failures from their past which are often their biggest teachers. The episode with Brené Brown from 11 December 2021 is especially a great listen.
In her memoir, Year of Yes, Shonda Rhimes writes about her year-long experiment to say yes to all that scared her. Reading it made me both cry as well as laugh out loud. She’s extraordinarily brave, clever, funny, real and kind, and this is a super inspiring read.
Elizabeth Gilbert’s novel, City of Girls, reminded me of the heady freedom of confident youth before it gets socialised or shamed out of us. What a delight to read about women who took the risk to stay brave and true to themselves because the cost of giving it up was too high a price to pay.
At the risk of reviving this ear worm: remember the ’90s hit by Chumbawamba called Tubthumping? ‘I get knocked down, but I get up again / You’re never gonna keep me down’ on repeat.