*Originally posted on my artist blog 10.5.18

Rejection is, at best, an annoying fact of life.

It gets a bit easier over time? I think?

But that sting never really goes away. It never doesn’t hurt. (Yep, correct use of a double negative.) I’ve gotten more used to disappointment. I’m pretty sure the resulting  sadness doesn’t last as long as it used to? (That also might just be the unreliable narrative of memory.) The asshole-voice-in-my-head telling me ‘I’m an inevitable failure’ is drown more quickly by the my own intervention and redirection of my thoughts and focus, but there’s always an internal struggle. With any form of rejection, we are left reconciling our disappoint and grief with the idea we still have innate value and worthiness, even if it isn’t appreciated or celebrated in that circumstance.

Putting my art into the world is strangely vulnerable. “Ta-da! Here world, look at my art! I’ve spent years learning, evolving, and growing. Surely you can see the nuance in my work that portrays this integral raw aspect of myself! Judge away!”

I put positive vibes out into the universe (even though I’m not entirely sure what a vibe really consists of, and I’m entirely aware how stereotypically-annoying-hippie that phrase sounds). I do think remaining positive and hopeful, envisioning success in the opportunities I apply for is the healthier approach. I celebrate the successes of my art friends to share in their joy. I’m mentally preparing for success, I’m adamant not to sell myself short when asked conversationally ‘what I’ve been working on’ by adding “I probably won’t get it anyway.” But the asshole-voice-in-my-head still chimes in, “You probably won’t get it anyway. You should tell them that. You’ll look so dumb when you don’t get it, and you didn’t even mention that you knew you probably wouldn’t. Oh! You’ll be so embarrassed. Because you won’t get this. Because you’re a Fail-y Fail-y Fail-ton.”

Brilliant insult, asshole-voice.

My point is without a positive growth mindset, I’m setting myself up for inevitable failure. But mentally preparing for rejection and expecting failure makes the hit more manageable when I don’t have high hopes in the first place. So where is that ideal balance between unfettered belief in my limitless creative possibilities emanating throughout the world, and the crushingly realistic probabilities of repeated rejection?

Honestly, I have no idea. However, I recognize the beauty in discovering balance. I’m currently riding the ebb and flow of figurative waves of hope in my endless artistic potential, and the debilitating self-doubt that accompanies frequent rejection.

“Well done, choosing a life in the arts, Swenson. Brilliant decision, loser.”

Shut up, asshole-voice.

We’re all works in progress.