Rejection Letters I Never Got (So I Just Stopped sharing)"

There was a time when I didn’t get rejected. I know, sounds a bit spoiled brat like, right? But when I was able-bodied, younger, and moving through life without much resistance — people answered my texts, returned my calls, and showed up. Back then, most of us didn’t have kids, mortgages, or sleep-deprived lives that revolved around cartoon theme songs and tiny plastic shoes. It was a different season.

Now? Everyone’s got their own chaos. And I get that. But that understanding doesn’t always soften the sting of being ignored, dismissed, or told — indirectly or otherwise — that I ask for “too much.” Like the time I was asking for rides and someone gently (but firmly) suggested I shouldn’t rely on others so often. I got the message loud and clear. So I stopped asking.

Getting all that rejection and dismissal for years made me feel extremely undervalued and unworthy. Taking the improv class and going through every level plus doing stand up comedy has definitely helped me with getting through and feeling okay with all those emotions and feelings.

And that’s another thing about rejection — it doesn’t always come as a slammed door. Sometimes it’s a look. A sigh. A text that never gets answered. And eventually, you learn to pre-reject yourself before anyone else has the chance—and that's exactly what I do. Won't get rejected if you don't reach out. I've learned to like my own time with myself.

It’s weird. I used to think the problem was them. Then I thought maybe it was me. Now, I’m just tired.

I know part of it is the version of me people remember. I was negative when I was younger — judgmental, sarcastic, maybe a bit sharp around the edges. That’s what people hold onto, even if I’ve outgrown those layers. And I have. God, have I tried.

And some still don't see it, that is truly devastating because it's exhausting.

But proving to people you’ve changed is like shouting into a void. It’s exhausting. It makes you question if they ever really saw you in the first place.

Lately, I’ve been unpacking something I hadn’t admitted for years — I’ve been sexually harassed most of my life. It’s a heavy sentence. I only recently realized this in a seven-week group therapy session. At first, I was worried that it was going to bring up emotions that I had already got over, But instead, it helped me to start letting go. I know people have been through way worse, but it just sucks having to deal with this on top of everything else. I don't know why but maybe it has to do with a power thing but this definitely amplified when I got into my chair. People just started doing things around me that they never did before. Do they honestly think this chair is a sign of having no power or weakness or something? To be honest from my point of view it seems like they do because of how often I have to prove that it's not.

That’s the contradiction I’m living in: silence can be protection, but it can also feel like punishment. Speaking up risks judgment. Staying quiet feels like erasure. I self-sabotage myself a lot, It’s like I can’t win.

But maybe the goal isn’t to win. Maybe it’s just to keep going.

I’m still figuring out how to ask without apologizing. How to show up without shrinking. How to be seen without having to perform the old version of me people expect.

So if you’ve ever felt like a burden because someone made you feel like one — You don’t have to earn your right to be here, or to be loved. You're not taking up space — you're meant to be here

We’re not too much. We’re just a lot — and that’s not a bad thing.