Reframing Rejection

book on a beach

I was at the beach recently doing exactly what I needed in that moment. I had my AirPods in, a book in my hands, and the sun warming me. I wasn't rushing anywhere. I was just enjoying the quiet.

A few minutes later, a man walked over, introduced himself, and asked if I wanted to go into the water with him.

I smiled and said, “No, thank you. Maybe next time.”

He walked away.

As I settled back into my book, I found myself wondering what story he might have told himself.

Did he think I wasn't interested because of something about him? Did he wonder if he'd said the wrong thing? If I wasn't attracted to him? If I had rejected him?

The truth is that my answer had nothing to do with him. I wasn't thinking about him when I said no.

I was thinking things like:

Who would watch my wallet?

Who would watch my keys?

My phone?

Did I really want to get my hair wet?

I was headed to the office afterward. I had plans. I didn't want to spend the rest of the day with sandy wet, and dare I say… frizzy hair.

None of those reasons had anything to do with the person standing in front of me. And it made me realize how often we personalize rejection.

Someone doesn't return a text, and we assume they lost interest. We don't get the job, and we assume we weren't good enough. A friend declines an invitation, and we wonder what we did wrong. A publisher passes on a manuscript. A prospective client hires another lawyer. A relationship ends.

We make ourselves the center of someone else's decision. But really everyone is carrying around an entire internal world that we know nothing about. Their decisions are influenced by timing, priorities, obligations, fears, finances, exhaustion, family, health, past experiences, and a thousand other factors we'll never see.

Sometimes the answer is “no” simply because it isn't the right moment. Sometimes people are protecting their own peace.

Sometimes they already have too much on their plate.

Sometimes they're just trying not to get their hair wet.

One of the greatest acts of self-compassion is resisting the urge to fill in the blanks with a story that diminishes us.

Not every closed door is a judgment. Not every rejection is personal. Not every “no” is a reflection of you. Sometimes it's simply someone making the decision that is right for them in that moment. And maybe that's a reminder for all of us. We don't owe everyone an explanation for our “no.” And we shouldn't assume someone else's "no" is really about us.

There is a tremendous amount of freedom in letting people have their reasons without making ourselves the reason.