The first girl I ever asked out was in the 7th grade. It was at a school dance.
For some reason, they always played Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” as the last song. Everyone slow-danced to it. I bolted across the gym to Sara when the guitar intro kicked in.
“Do you want to dance?” I stammered.
“Okay.”
When the song ended and the gym lights came on, I mustered every ounce of courage.
“Do you want to go out?”
She paused with a slight grimace.
“Sorry, I’m not allowed to date,” she said, fidgeting with her fingers. “Thanks for the offer.”
The following Monday at school, everyone knew what had happened. But what made it worse was that she started dating another kid that week—and then another a few weeks later. I had never felt so ashamed.
A friend tried consoling me. He said this was a good thing because now I wouldn’t be afraid to ask out other girls in the future. But that was far from the truth.
Rejection paralyzed me through my teenage years and most of my twenties. Not just in relationships but in every aspect of life.
But then something changed.
I stumbled upon a simple realization that shifted everything for me:
- Facing rejection is a skill.
- And skills can be learned.
The harsh truth is that rejection isn’t an exception to the rule—it is the rule. It’s the default outcome in life. And like my 7th-grade friend said—who I didn’t want to believe at the time—this is, in fact, a good thing.
Hold on… Let me address the obvious question first: why is rejection so painful?
There’s an evolutionary reason for it. Back in the hunter-gatherer days, when you had to rely on the tribe for survival, rejection meant life or death. If you offended the tribe, you risked getting ostracized. Which, back then, was a death sentence since you couldn’t survive alone.
Those instincts are still with us today, but they’re outdated. Like wisdom teeth, they served a purpose once, but now mostly get in the way. And once we recognize that, we can see rejection for what it really is: information.
Rejection isn’t failure—it’s data. And like baseball, there’s plenty of it.
I think of rejection in three types: rained out, shut out, and cut out.
The first type is rained out.
It’s the day of the big game. Your team’s ready to play—but the skies open up, and the game gets canceled. You can’t control the weather. You don’t know why Mother Nature decided to rain today. And there’s no point trying to decode it—it just happens.
Some rejections are like that.
- A hiring manager already had someone else in mind.
- A date isn’t looking for anything serious.
- A client loves your pitch but doesn’t have the budget.
These aren’t about you. They’re about timing, circumstance, coincidence.
You showed up. But the game never happened.
The second type is shut out.
Your team plays nine full innings—and scores zero runs. That’s not bad luck. That’s a pattern. Something’s off, and it’s time to review the tape.
Some rejections are like that.
You show up consistently. You try. But nothing lands.
- If every job application gets ignored…
- If every first date goes nowhere…
- If every client proposal gets declined…
That’s not random—that’s feedback.
- Maybe your cover letter needs a better hook.
- Maybe your dates don’t feel like you’re listening.
- Maybe your pitch isn’t solving the right problem.
Patterns like these are trying to help you.
They’re telling you something needs to change and to try a different approach.
The third type is cut out.
You made the roster. You showed up and gave it your all.
But after a few practices, the manager pulls you aside and says, “We’re cutting you from the team.”
Not because you didn’t try. Not because the weather got in the way.
But because your batting is struggling. Because you’re not meeting the standard. Because, in their eyes, you’re not good enough.
Some rejections are like that.
- You’re not what the company wants—because they think you’re underqualified.
- You’re not what the other person is into—because they don’t find you attractive.
- You’re not what the client expects—because they think someone else has more to offer.
These rejections hit the hardest because they are personal. They aren’t about bad timing. They aren’t about one lousy pitch. They’re about how someone else sees you—your value, fit, and worth—right now.
Sometimes, that view is unfair. Sometimes it’s just preference.
But sometimes… they’re right.
Maybe you are underqualified—and it’s time to level up.
Maybe you could make yourself more attractive—not by becoming someone else, but by owning what makes you valuable or taking care of yourself better.
Maybe there is work to do.
But that’s what makes this kind of rejection so powerful.
Because once you see it clearly—once you swallow the sting—you can do something about it.
These are the rejections that light a fire.
And that’s the paradox:
The more personal a rejection feels, the more valuable it is.
But I’ll be the first to admit that value alone doesn’t make it easier to face.
You can understand the lesson. You can even agree with it. But the sting still messes with your head unless you build tolerance.
Facing rejection is like building a muscle. You get stronger one rep at a time. Go too hard too fast? You’ll burn out—or worse, confirm your worst fears and stop trying altogether.
You’ve got to train for it. Gradually.
A good starting point is with low-stakes situations:
- Maybe strike up a conversation with someone at the park.
- Maybe email someone you admire, even if you think they won’t reply.
- Maybe apply for a job that’s a long shot.
You want just enough to stretch your comfort zone. Light, simple reps.
Because every time you survive a “no”—and realize you’re still standing—you get a little stronger.
Start with what you can handle. Then, add a little more.
Because rejection doesn’t just build resilience—it builds vision.
Each “no” reveals something. A blind spot. A mismatch. A truth you’ve been avoiding.
That’s the hidden gift: it forces you to look inward.
It shows you what you’re chasing—and why. It strips away the noise and makes you ask hard questions:
- Is this still the path I want to be on?
- Am I becoming the kind of person I want to be?
In that way, rejection isn’t just resistance—it’s reflection.
It teaches you to stop outsourcing your worth to other people’s opinions.
It sharpens your self-awareness.
It puts you on a path to self-reliance—where your compass comes from within, not from whoever says yes or no.
And when you reach that point, rejection stops being something you fear.
It becomes something you use.
Funny enough, that’s what my 7th-grade friend was trying to tell me.
Back then, I thought he was just trying to make me feel better—that rejection was somehow a good thing. I didn’t believe him. Not then. But I do now.
So if you’re facing rejection right now? Good.
It means you’re in motion.
It means you’re getting closer.
And when that yes finally shows up, you’ll know exactly what to do with it.
