Thank You for Rejecting Me (Part 1): A Life Recalibration

The Quiet Goodbye that Broke Me Open

Rejection isn’t always Rejection, most of the time it’s Acceptance of Reality.

Rejection is part of being human. If you can’t remember the last time you were rejected, you are either incredibly fortunate, or you’ve likely stopped trying when it comes to relationships.

I’ve always been a loner, spending more of my life outside of relationships than in them. But after my ten-year marriage ended in divorce, I convinced myself that I had to start dating right away. That turned out to be a fun, messy experiment that involved…well, him. What began as a spark became a mirror, revealing how quickly I’d beg and settle for crumbs just to feel connected.

The first time I heard his voice, it was a jolt to my heart. His voice felt so familiar, like we had crossed paths in many lifetimes before. I immediately felt a comfort I had been longing for for so long, an invitation to be vulnerable and open in a way I had never experienced before.

Caution had always been my nature and I’ve had difficulty trusting the intentions of others. Every decision would be met with over analysis in an effort to self-protect. This was the opposite. I was excited again. I felt like Drew Barrymore in Never Been Kissed when she says “It’s nice to have someone to talk to.” He gave that to me, someone to feel deeply connected to in a time in my life when I felt so isolated and alone.

Jumpstarted Back to Life

As Tosha Silver says, he was the electric cable that “jumpstarted” my life again. He came into my life to shock me back into living. For the first time in my adult life, I felt truly seen. Desired. Understood. It both terrified and elated me that the smallest amount of attention could propel me to fall so quickly.

When we were together, I felt completely uninhibited with him, comfortable to be my silly, weird self, to explore, to talk about real things, deep things. And he listened, he responded, he showed his ability to care, to be interested in me and in what I had to say. I had never experienced that kind of connection and attention in my previous intimate relationships.

It quickly became a torrid romance of weekends spent in bed, making coffee and breakfast, and then goodbyes until the next two weeks…. with little in between. Little communication. No making plans. No effort to get to know me better. My attempts at communication during the in between moments was met with brief responses or no response at all.

After the haze of euphoria dissipated, I began to worry that this was what was called a “fling”. But how could a fling make me feel so alive and so seen?

The Repetitive Dance of Victim and Fixer

So, I did what I always did, I clung onto it harder. And the more I clung, the more he pulled away; and we played out the dance as two magnets repelling each other. He played the victim, reminding me of his difficult situation of being separated by from his wife and not living together for many years and her still over dependence on him for financial and emotional support.

I played the part I had always played, the fixer. I made excuses for his inability and lack of effort to connect during the in between time. I made my own story to answer the whys and it feed right into, and supported his victim narrative.

When I professed how deeply I had grown to care for him in such a short time, his response was not acknowledgement, or informing me of his feelings towards me, but to block the confession by simply stating that he couldn’t give me what I needed.

Yet still, I was not deterred.

I believed I could give him the support he needed

If he could only see how much I cared

If he could only feel how much I loved him

If he could only know how good I was for him

If he would just let me, I could love him out of his pain

An outsider would have clearly seen just how rose-colored my glasses were and how they came equipped with blinders and earmuffs. They did a great job of shielding me from a truth I fought hard to ignore: that I was stuck in a decade long pattern of begging for attention, affection, and love, because deep down, I didn’t believe I was worthy to be given love freely, that I had to give a lot just to get crumbs.

The Quiet Goodbye

His rejection of me came in a thousand different ways both during the time we spent together and the in between moments through his actions and non-actions. By the time I ended it, there was really nothing left to end. The conversation felt a bit like calling someone just to say, “Please stop not calling me.” The connection had already dissolved into silence with no drama, no fights, just the slow retreat of two worn-out magnets.

It was a quiet goodbye. A cordial conversation that felt less than a breakup and more like ending a contract at the end of its term. He seemed surprised but unphased. I told him I wanted more, and he replied that he couldn’t give me more. I won’t pretend that I didn’t secretly hope he’d see the error of his ways or realize how good I was for him, maybe he would even fight for me.

Looking back now, I would describe this relationship as allowing myself to be used for Sex and Therapy. And at the time I enjoyed it, it gave me purpose. But eventually, I began to see the purpose for what it really was: a false connection to bring me to a breaking point, one to force me to recalibrate.

A Life Recalibration

The ending still left me stunned and dismayed by how quickly he began to distance himself the moment I asked for more. How could I fall so hard, so fully, only to realize that I was only ever wanted because I had been the easy giver and him the easy taker? But the moment my love required even the smallest effort in return, he was not interested.

It broke me. Not slowly, not in pieces I could manage, but all at once. A clear knowing announced itself, its impact shattering me into a million pieces.

A knowing that I needed, I deserved an equal relationship, and that

I could not do this anymore.

I would not do this anymore.

I would never again beg for attention, affection, and love.

Things were changing in me. The voice inside, the one that I used to silence, was getting harder to ignore its repeating of “I Deserve More”. It started as a whisper and grew louder until I truly let myself hear it, feel it, and know it. I didn’t dismiss it like I used to even though I knew now that listening meant facing hard truths, making hard choices, and letting go of the fantasy that loving him harder would make him love me back.

Still, it marked a new beginning for me. A glimmer of hope that I could have a loving relationship where someone was interested in me the way I was interested in them, one of equal give and take. A recalibration to seeing clearly that an one-sided relationship was not what I wanted or needed. An confirmation of that voice inside saying “YES! I Deserve More.” In the past this end would have meant the end until I repeat my pattern of begging again with the next person. This time it was different, I was different. I was recalibrating a new life trajectory.

(to be concluded in Part 2 of “Thank You for Rejecting Me”).

Reflect With Me:

Have you ever mistaken attention for love?

What would it mean to Believe “I deserve more” and Trust that voice, even when it hurts?

Be Well,

Nicole