Why Rejection Hurts (And How I’m Learning to Own It)

Rejection has always felt personal to me. Not so much as a writer, but as a daughter, a granddaughter, a friend etc. And as someone who’s spent most of her life trying not to take up too much space, it stings deeper than a wasp’s nest in your head.

Growing up in the 80s, in what you might generously call a 'blended' family, or more accurately, a badly stitched together patchwork of dysfunction, the air was thick with those oh-so-trendy 'toxic vibes.' Yes, I know it’s a buzzword that’s now plastered all over social media, but it’s overused for a reason: it’s true.

My family didn’t exactly hand out medals for speaking up or stepping out of line. Instead, the message was always to blend in, behave, and don’t be too loud about your feelings.

And that kind of early training doesn’t fade quietly. It’s like carrying around a suitcase full of other people’s expectations, padlocked.

And packed tighter than you’d think.

So when I started writing, not just the polite, 'nice' stuff, but the real, sometimes uncomfortable things, I braced myself for that same kind of rejection - the type that swills around in the bottom of your cup, right next to the soggy digestive you just couldn’t save.

Only, it never came. And instead, I found writing honestly, without sugarcoating or apologising, gave me the most freeing feeling I’ve ever felt.

I didn’t just write a book. I found my voice. I found out that rejection hurts – but it doesn’t have to stop you.

And here’s the thing: I know it isn’t going to go down well with everyone. I know there’ll be people who read my words and puff out their cheeks in mock outrage, or roll their eyes so far back they might need a map to find them again.

But I say, let them.

Because playing it safe now feels like wearing a lead jacket on a hot day – heavy, suffocating, and utterly pointless. I mean - if you're going to do that, you might as well slather it in honey, lie back, and let the three bears come lick it off. It might sticky, messy, borderline pornographic... But at least you’re not faking it!

Writing like this, blunt, unfiltered, somewhat inappropriate and yet real, has lifted a weight I didn’t realise I was still carrying.

Though maybe hard to believe, it’s not about trying to provoke, (OK maybe there is a teeny weeny bit of provoking in there but only in the most humorous of ways!) but rather, about finally letting loose the voice I’d spent years folding into a quiet whisper.

I’ve also met some truly incredible people along the journey - the kind who’ve lifted me up when I was in danger of falling away completely. The ones who ran in, waving, when I felt unheard.

And the ones who just saw me, all of me, and didn’t flinch at the 27 personalities and the bucket load of chaos that is my life on the rocks!

Yes, this past year has undoubtedly been about growth. But more than that, it’s been about community. The kind that shows up when you’re real. When you’re honest. And when you’re finally done trying to be palatable.

So, from the bottom of this big old heart, thank you. And if I can ever return the favour, if I can ever make you feel heard in the world that's beyond loud, you know where I am.

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 “Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.”.

Maggie Kuhn