The Pain of Rejection

I got a rejection a while back and wrote about it.

 I am writing this on my way to Ilorin and as trees and leaves slide by, something starts to settle in me. Usually when I travel, I either try to hold a book in my palms, which I don’t enjoy but pretend to, or plug music in my ears. But today, I decided to sit like other passengers, adjusting my buttocks when it hurts, and shouting at the driver when he accelerates too high. And as I stare through the glass and watch trees whirl behind, I relate my journey of life as a bus moving past trees or getting moved over by other buses.

I think it’s a human thing to compare journeys. Despite knowing that we all are on different journeys; I always compare my journey with others. I measure my achievements with the people around me, especially my friends. And I have come to realize that it is not me being obsessed with success. It is just a normal thought of assessing myself to check if I'm not lagging behind; if I'm not uselessly sitting down in my room doing nothing while others are busy out there building beautiful futures for themselves.

I have been failing at things lately. I was rejected twice for something I was asked to rewrite. It is the worst rejection of my life journey yet and I don't ever wish for that kind of rejection in my entire life again. It is not the prestige of the publication that pains me, it is that it somehow intends to justify my writing. I have always believed in myself. I have always believed, even when I know my writing is not as clean and beautiful as I want it to be yet, that I am progressing. When the rejection came in for the second time, I broke to tears. I was at my desk and the only thing I could do was to drop my face on the keyboard of my laptop. I couldn’t read or write or do anything for days. Most times when a rejection comes, I archive or get it starred, depending on what kind of rejection it is. Some, I just delete. In 2020, I was a finalist at an international writing fellowship and the only thing that denied me from getting the fellowship - or so I want to believe - was because my network kept bouncing me out of the Zoom interview. That interview was the last process. While I might not have been picked, I would blame myself for not performing well. But how do I tell anyone that it’s the forsaken Nigerian network that failed me? When the email came in that I had been rejected because of the network failure, I deleted it. Keeping it would just get me angrier and angrier.

But when that rejection came in recently, I didn't know what to do. I had never received that kind of rejection. I don’t wish for it anymore. I don't. I don't. Because I kept asking myself, what exactly happened? It is another thing to have built the commitment to write. It’s also another thing when someone recognizes your skill and asks you to write. But it’s a different thing when that person eventually turns what you’ve created back at you. It leaves you confused.

We all have big aspirations, but these rejections keep clipping their wings.

I am now assuming myself as a bus moving past trees. The trees as a metaphor for life. But other buses were revving past me. We all have big aspirations, but these rejections keep clipping their wings.

There are things that make you compare yourself to others. There is age. Especially when you step into your 20’s, age becomes a burden. Because there are things you would have imagined for yourself. Like graduating before you clock 22. Not knowing Nigeria is always ready to empty whatever bag of dreams you seem to have packed.

There is circle. As complementing as being in a circle seems, it is emotionally traumatizing when everyone in your circle is already flying and you’re just learning how to ride. It takes a lot from you. But it still depends on the kind of circle that you belong to. Some circles build you. Some break you.

This is getting boring for me to write because I am already getting to my destination and noises are sneaking inside the bus. But I will leave with this quote by Ayi Kwei Armah: Those who are blessed with the soaring swiftness of an eagle, and have flown before, let them go. I will travel slowly and I, too, will arrive.

My friend, what matters is that you at least try. Dúpé tì ę.