What happens when you get hit by a baseball.

Yesterday, I had the privilege to share my writer journey at an ASU Authorpreneur event. While recounting the story of getting a rejection from a London agent, I suddenly burst into tears. I quickly learned the emotion from that rejection was still living in me — eight years later.

A few things. You guys know I’m basically ‘okay’ with being vulnerable. There were about 20 wonderful women in the room (also my pops who showed up to support me!). The environment was welcoming; the room was electric with interest and excitement. I was the “expert” and all were sort of looking to (at) me for guidance.

I didn’t fall apart up there in front of them. However, as I found myself trying to choke back tears and swallow pain, I did have to finally let it all out in order to keep myself together. Here’s how it went:

Me: “You guys, I was so excited. I’d worked on my manuscript for almost three years. They told me to send it whenever I was ready. No pressure. Well, I finally sent it to the agent and they said ‘no’.”

BadaBOOM-BadaBING! Stab in my heart. Wrench in my gut. Words trapped in my throat.

Me: “Uh, oh guys…. I’m gonna cry.”

I quickly turned my back to them, embarrassed. I disappeared for a second; as soon as I was back in my body and my eyes focused on the white board in front of me, I caught myself. I turned back around and faced them.

Me: “You know what, I don’t care if you guys see me cry. This is painful stuff this business!”

And then I went on.

Afterwards, one of the women in the audience was so very kind. She came up to me and reminded me to own my feelings. That what I was experiencing was valid and that I was going to be okay. What a gift!

Let’s keep that gift giving going, shall we?

Emotions are a mudderfudder! If you’re anything like me, you may have grown up stuffing your emotions down when they popped up. As a kid, maybe you were reprimanded for crying. Or maybe as a teenager you were shamed for getting angry and told to ‘stop it’. Or perhaps in early adulthood you couldn’t stomach embarrassment and shame and withdrew yourself from the shitty situation causing said embarrassment and instead did something to make the feeling go away – drink martinis, eat chips, punch a wall.

I am this way. AND I am working on actually feeling the shit pain when it comes up rather than keep pushing it away. It ain’t easy. But I’m trying really hard. This work is coming from therapy and a desire to be a better-functioning human being.

If you are this way, try changing. That’s the only request. Try changing.

The other thing I wanted to chat about is this crappy thing called rejection. In the author world, getting an agent is no different from any of you going after a new job. Authors have a query letter that we send to agents so they will ‘hire’ us and bring us on the team. You have a resume that you send to companies so they will hire you and welcome you to their team. How does it feel when you send out resume after resume, often with no response? Or, what about when you get through a series of interviews only to be told ‘no’ at the last minute? Your hopes up, so sure you’re going to be greenlit and that you’d be setting up shop at a new desk and waiting for a new pay check? This very thing happened to a friend for nearly a year. A year of multiple rejections. It suuucks.

Rejection is an act that is attached to or digs up some kind of emotion, right? Yet, does it have to? By itself, it’s a thing. It’s a fact. It’s an inanimate object, like a baseball. The only problem is that when it hits you, it hurts. When I was in 6th grade, I was playing baseball with my brothers and the neighborhood kids one summer. I was the pitcher. Someone (maybe it was my brother?) hit a hard line drive that hit me straight in the stomach. Whap! Oh my god. I can still feel that pain. I couldn’t breathe and because I was playing with a bunch of boys, I wanted to appear strong. I hobbled home, doubled over and cried at the kitchen sink. I then got a drink of water to try and collect myself and went back out to the field to keep playing. Later, my brothers told me, “Wow, you just went in and got water and came back like nothing happened.”

Well, something did happen. I got hit.

Looking back, I’m proud of myself for going back out. I knew I wasn’t a quitter then and I know I’m not a quitter now. But, there’s something more here, isn’t there? Rejection is going to keep coming. We can’t stop trying for what we want and we can’t stop someone from not wanting us. We can’t stop the baseball zinger. What to do? Can I be more watchful and jump out the way to avoid the sting? Can I get my mitt in place and catch it before it causes chaos? Or do I prep for the pain? Maybe being equipped with all three options is an option.

So, what about you? What can you do the next time rejection hits you? It’s going to come. It’s going to take on different forms. You’re going to get ghosted while going after a new relationship. You’re going to send a text about something important to you and you’re going to be ignored by a friend or parent or sibling or co-worker. You’re going to go after a job and not get it.

What will you do differently the next time you get zonked? Think about it. That’s the request. Think about it.

I like to say that life is grand, because it is. It is hard, it is also delightfully full of lessons to be learned. Yesterday wasn’t the first time I’ve cried in front of people while being in a leadership position. I doubt it will also be the last, but I’m hoping that with enough work on myself, these surprise springs will happen less and less — not because I’ve gotten great at putting a stopper in the water works, but because I’ve done the work that doesn’t turn on the zing-zonging spigot in the first place.

I wish the same for you.