Ahhhh, that familiar kick in the teeth called rejection

It's good to know what triggers you. After feeling happy for an extended period of time, where there were no negative emotions, one came up tonight. Rejection! I need to grab this one by the throat and tackle it. Here goes.

I've been sensitive to rejection for as long as I can remember. As a sensitive teenager (not particularly to others), I grew into adulthood believing rejection was a bad thing - only if it happened to me of course. If I rejected others, as I did in the most blatant and unfeeling way, it was OK. I didn't see other peoples hurt - (Note to universe - my sincerest apologies to those I hurt so badly, I was stupid and clueless).

Rejection was a bad thing because it told me that I was unworthy, unlovable and essentially a bad person. I knew of course I wasn't bad, but because I couldn't give myself permission to be worth something, I took my worth from other people's opinions. If those people didn't give their approval, that meant that I was a terrible person. And nobody likes to think of themselves as terrible. We all want to know that we are accepted and loved for who we are. Unfortunately for me, and those I loved and tried to love, I always felt like the biggest reject on the planet. This made me sad and very, very angry. I didn't know why people didn't like me. I was too shy to take initiative, wanting someone instead to come along and 'like' me and give me the approval I so desperately craved. I expected them to like me and if they didn't, it was devastating.

If they did like me, and I did have a few good friends while growing up, I was their friend for life. Mr Scorpio, you know what I'm talking about.

My first experience at feeling totally accepted came when I was around 15. We had to do a round of work experience for school and I was slow to choose. Eventually, and because it was one of the last choices left, I chose to go to the local special education school, where the children had varying degrees of severe, intellectual disability - everything from Down Syndrome and autism to Fragile X and other multiple disabilities. Given the poor little reject I was then, I couldn't have ordered a better choice for myself. In this school, where differences abounded and were catered for, I encountered the most wonderful, understanding, accepting group of people I'd ever had the good fortune to meet. I made an instant connection with the young children whose class I'd been assigned to. They didn't care that I was shy, that I wasn't pretty or that I didn't dress in the latest fashions. All they cared about (and responded to) was that I gave them the attention they needed. And of course, they reciprocated with lots of smiles and cuddles and made me feel wonderful. Hence the proceeding career in Special Education. Friends for life? Hell yes, I still know some of these people, they are my oldest, bestest friends.

Children with disabilities are so raw and non-judgemental. They are just out there, being themselves. They don't give a shit whose around or who you are. They act the same, not caring whether they are amongst royalty or back home in their classroom. They operate in complete honesty, without agendas or egos. We could all learn a thing or two from them.

Of course, there were other people I was close to. J and I were very close during my senior years in high school. Looking back, it was a strange situation. He was 2 years younger and had another set of friends inside of school. It was only outside of school that we would see each other. We'd meet at the back gate, walk home together and then promise to meet up later on. He would ring me or I would ring him. We'd go out, hang out at the local shops together, thinking we were the coolest things on two legs (HA!) - I cringe when I think about it now, but we were good mates. He was my concert buddy, in the days when 3XY would put on concerts for teenagers and it cost about $5.00 to go. Fantastic. Best of all, we made each other laugh. I've never laughed with anyone else, like I laughed with him. We shared the same sense of humour which made us firm friends. I thought we'd be friends for life, but life had other plans. After uni, we grew apart and eventually went our separate ways. I haven't seen him for about 23 years (and he's not on Facebook.) but would like to see him again, just to have a good laugh about the things we used to get up to.

I can see an element of rejection here. I would have gladly kept up the friendship, but I guess he wanted to move on. After we'd both moved out of home, I went to visit him at his new place. I asked him to dinner and he accepted, but he never turned up... and that was the last time I saw him. At the time, I took it extremely personally. I was embarrassed (I was living with ex then) and hurt and thought, of course, that it was about me - I was terrible, not worth calling / visiting etc, but if I look back, maybe he just wanted to move on with his life and maybe he was selfish and rude (for not calling). Whatever it was, it doesn't really matter now.

With another friend of mine, I always felt like I wasn't good enough, even though we were close. She came from the east, me the west. I was educated in a public high school (not that there's anything wrong with that) and she went to an all girls private school. When I think back, this relationship was never an equal one. I would talk, she'd listen. We were completely relaxed with each other and again, shared the same stupid sense of humour (sorry Miss Q), yet something was always amiss. Though I visited her at home, she never came, or offered to come visit me at mine. And even though I'd ring her, she'd seldom ring me. It's true, I never felt completely valued by her, which has probably got more to do with my self esteem than anything to do with her. But I adored her, until she hurt me when she couldn't come to our 'going away' celebration before we left the country. Her daughter had a birthday party to attend. It was the last straw, I was crushed. Silly thing was, they'd come to visit us the week before and stayed for a few hours, yet I was still really disappointed. I guess because I'm a loyal friend, desperate to know that I'm important and when things like that happen, it becomes clear that I'm not as important to them as they are to me. It's life.

If I think back over my life, ex and I never had a chance really. I took his love to mean complete acceptance, so anything that contradicted that little illusion was going to cause a problem. When he started pointing out to me that he wasn't happy ('miserable' was the word I think he used), I couldn't understand it. How could he be miserable and why was it my fault? I loved him, he loved me, what was the problem? I really do believe that I was the problem, not 100%, but a good, meaty portion of it.

I didn't know what was required to be in an equal relationship - this was my first serious relationship ever. I thought love was enough. I didn't realise you had to work at it. And of course, when he started saying things that didn't sound good to me, I took it as a rejection of me. I felt betrayed if he pointed out my mistakes, felt like he thought I was a bad person. He didn't. He still loved me then, I just didn't believe it. To me, it felt like the ultimate rejection. And of course, being the people-pleaser I was, I tried to fix this and that, I tried everything I could to get myself to change. But my ego wasn't budging. It fought back like a trooper and eventually won.

My ego was fuelled by a situation in which it deemed itself a victim. It got strong and even more angry. It beat ex down, wore us both out. It couldn't stand to be wrong, to be rejected. I'm a nice person damn it!, my mind used to shout, why can't you notice that and let the rest be! Nope, with an ego that strong, determined to prove itself right ex didn't have a chance at ever having his needs met.

And now we are here! I feel for him. For the loss of our relationship, which at the beginning, looked so promising (as does everybody's). For the struggle he's had, not only to get me to see what was happening, but for him to retain his sanity and himself in the face of a very difficult and emotional situation. We all wish we could turn back time, but it's not possible. Eckhart Tolle says, all we have is now. We only have the present.

And in this present moment, I choose to look back honestly and learn from my mistakes. They are big mistakes to learn from.