Fear of Rejection

I've always struggled with fear of rejection.  Part of it comes from eight long years of middle and high school feeling like an outcast.

But overcoming the fear of rejection is more than having a place saved for you at the lunch table.  More than hearing the words, "Katie, we'd love for you to live in our apartment."  More than, "Will you go to the dance with me?"

It also involves a graduate school saying, "We see potential in her and want to grow her."  It's an employer saying, "We want her on our team!"  It's someone, anyone, saying "I believe in you."

Fear of rejection is still very real in my life, even if my name is shouted joyously when I enter the caf.  It still has a bigger hold than I'd care to admit, a bigger hold than I thought it did six months ago.

But in Christ I've found someone who says, "I believe in you."  I've found acceptance.  And it comes from the Creator of the Universe.  What more can one want?

Maybe I don't know what comes after China, but I am slowly learning to say, "It's going to be alright."  And do you know why?

Because God IS good.  ALL the time.

Even when it's hard to believe.  Even when you get seven rejections in five months.  Even when the world says, "She's not good enough."  Even when you're alone at the lunch table.

Significant First

It came today. The first of many, I’m sure. I might even accumulate enough to write an obscenity on the wall. Except while this was a surprise to me, it was not a surprise to God. He saw it coming. He let it come and during this hard week. He was sitting next to me when my first rejection letter made its way into my inbox. I realize I’m a writer. I realize I’m going to face a lot of these in my life. There’s no way to avoid them except by not sharing. That’s what hurts the most. I was confident with this one. Yes, apparently over confident. The people that rejected these pieces are the same people that keep urging me to share. Here I have and it’s shot down. Reject my work. That’s fine. I can’t win them all. However, please tell me why. What makes my pieces different from the other pieces that made it? I’m not saying my piece was perfect. There is no such thing as a perfect piece; I want to know where I can improve. I won’t take it personally. I won’t give them evil stares across the classroom tomorrow, but that doesn’t stop the waterfall that’s running down my face.

Rejection letter = upset = tears = runny nose = blow nose = (fear of) bloody nose

It’s been a long time since I’ve taken math but Chris tells me that means I could just say:

rejection letter = bloody nose.

Translation? Rejection letters punch me in the face.

The next step is my decision. Am I going to punch someone else in the face or am I going to move on? Am I going to let the pen dry out, pick a new major, and find a new career goal or am I going to accept this and realize it’ll happen again but some day it’ll change? Am I going to stay here hiding in my bedroom, ignoring text messages or am I going to go out in the living room and laugh at the formerly-constipated, now-possessed plastic mooing love cow? The choice is mine.

I did venture out.  I opted against going to my writers' group where I could wallow in pity with other rejects, if there were any.  Instead, I went to sign choir and kicked tables.  A classroom magically turns into a practice studio on Wednesday nights and that means all of the tables and chairs need to be collapsed and disposed of into the closet.    It's incredibly theraputic to kick in the hinges of class tables.

I tried to laugh and brush off the sasses but they hurt more than they do on an average day.  Especially the, "Katie, are you even literate?" when I misread the Wii directions.  It was a joke on my direction-following ability not my writing.

I remembered it's not Lent anymore, so I took my own cliche advice and wrote about it.  I guess the events of Wednesday weren't better than Tuesday.  In fact, the tears flowed instead of just threatening to do so, but my mood over all was better.  Even just a little.  I really appreciate your prayers today, and I could use a double dose tomorrow, please.

What really helped was Andy willingly playing "For the Moments I Feel Faint" by Relient K.  If you don't want to take a second to listen to the song, at least read the lyrics and sing them back to me when I forget them.

Am I at the point of no improvement?
What of the death I still dwell in?
I try to excel, but I feel no movement.
Can I be free of this unreleasable sin?

[Chorus:]
Never underestimate my Jesus.
You're telling me that there's no hope.
I'm telling you you're wrong.
Never underestimate my Jesus
When the world around you crumbles
He will be strong, He will be strong

I throw up my hands
"Oh, the impossibilities"
Frustrated and tired
Where do I go from here?
Now I'm searching for the confidence I've lost so willingly
Overcoming these obstacles is overcoming my fear

[Chorus]

I think I can't, I think I can't
But I think You can, I think You can
I think I can't, I think I can't
But I think You can, I think You can

Gather my insufficiencies and
place them in Your hands, place them in Your hands, place them in Your hands

Much love,
<>< Katie

Accepted

I don't think I'll ever forget a simple breakfast (my breakfast, his lunch) I once had with a friend Kevin, commonly referred to as "Jesus Shoes."  I've blogged about this brunch before, but I'm going to do it again.  Kevin and I met at the toaster both anxiously awaiting our bagels.

"Where are you sitting?"  I asked. My bagel was done, and I didn't have a seat yet.
"With you," he said.  Kevin, a popular senior, could have sat anywhere, and he chose to sit with me, a sophomore.  That would have been enough to make my Saturday.  But God had greater things in mind for the day.  If I remember correctly, our conversation wasn't anything deep or life changing, just two siblings in Christ sharing life over bagels.  That is, until I became an obsessing perfectionist.

"It doesn't matter, Katie.  It only matters to One and His mind is made up."

I probably rolled my eyes.  While I wasn't happy to hear it, Jesus Shoes had a point (and an appropriate nickname).

Acceptance is something I really struggle with.  It's why I don't like sharing my fiction.  It's why I thrive on feedback (preferably positive, but I'm learning to appreciate negative, too).  It's why I make myself the third wheel.  I pull away before anyone has the opportunity to push me out.  I'm getting better, but it's a problem.

It's also what Neal spoke about last night.  After sharing parts of his experience in junior high, not unlike my middle school experiences, he went off on a slight tangent.  Neal's notorious for tangents but this was a really good one.  One I needed to hear and can be told again every day for the rest of my life.

"I don't know whose acceptance you're searching for but just stop because it's hopeless.  You're never going to obtain it and be satisfied.  You already have Jesus's so why are you still searching?  Is that person's acceptance more important than Jesus's?  You can't please them but you have already pleased Him and that's all that matters."

Sound familiar?

"It doesn't matter, Katie.  It only matters to One and His mind is already made-up."

Thanks for accepting my honesty.

Oh, and even though we're on a MWF schedule this week, out of reverence for Christ's death, there will be no new post on Friday.  It's coming on Saturday instead.  If you've never experienced a Good Friday service of darkness, I highly recommend it.  My prayer is that you see our Savior's death and resurrection in a new way this year.

With love,
<>< Katie

Amy: Guys, we're in a tornado warning; maybe we should seek cover.
Andy: Elizabeth and I have two blankets over here if you want one.

Amazing Love

Six consecutive days and the daily blogging has come to an end. I'm terribly sorry, but I was only home for a grand total of nine hours yesterday (8.5 of them being before 8:30 in the morning). It's ok; it was a fun day!

There's a worship song entitled "Amazing Love" that almost everyone has sung at some point in time. I grew up singing it and don't even know who wrote it. Part of the song goes, "I'm forgiven because You were forsaken. I'm accepted, You were condemned. I'm alive and well, Your spirit is within me because You died and rose again."

I'm forgiven. Check. You were forsaken. Check. I'm accepted. Uncheck.

It's a great song, and I hear it all the time, but sometimes I feel bad singing it. Sometimes I feel like I'm lying to God. Those words, "I am accepted" don't roll off this tongue very well. I always hesitate because there are many days when I don't feel accepted. Many days when I'm picked on, laughed at, and rejected. Singing "I'm accepted" seems untrue.

The next line always catches me, "You were condemned." Maybe I'm not every one's favorite person (Maybe that's for good reason), but I have no been condemned. I haven't had my life threatened. I haven't been forced to die on a wooden cross. Maybe I'm not accepted, but I'm definitely not condemned. Thank God for that. :-D Instead, "I'm alive and well". How so? "Your spirit is within me." Why? "You died and rose again."

"I'm forgiven
because You were forsaken.
I'm accepted.
You were condemned.
I'm alive and well
Your spirit lives with me
Because You died and rose again.

"Amazing love, how can it be?
That You, my King, should die for me?
Amazing love, I know it's true,
and it's my joy to honor You in all I do.
In all I do, I'll honor You.
You are my King.
Jesus, You are my King."

Accepted or Rejected by men, accepted by Him. He is my King.

In Christ,
<>< Katie

"Whenever you are arrested and brought to trial, do not worry beforehand about what to say. Just say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit." Mark 13:11