Deep-dive: Rejection
A story of rejection and hope from a psychotherapist granddaughter
I submitted this story to
‘s Rejection Palace and I would like to share it with you.As a 20-something Psychology graduate with clinical experience, the next step in my career was psychotherapy training. “It will open many doors for you,” I was told. Setting aside my fears about the academic work, I submitted my application.
I nervously prepared for the multi-task interview, my palms sweating as I reviewed my notes. I visualised a positive outcome. The phone rang, and butterflies swarmed in my stomach. “I’m sorry to say…” My heart plummeted. The gist of what I heard was, “you’re not ready yet.”
Deflated but determined, I took on a new role at work, where the essential criteria seemed to include “fire-fighter”. Confidence grew each day as I navigated new meetings, supported the team emotionally and practically, and tackled flaming-hot problems.
When the training role was readvertised a year later, I was ready. I prepared meticulously, visualising success. Adrenaline coursed through my veins during the interview and I hoped for the best. Hours turned into days, days into weeks. “I just want to know now, whatever they say,” I told my partner, anxiety gnawing at my patience. The phone finally rang. “You’re appointable,” they said, but I was not appointed.
My heart pounded, as the interviewer asked if I had applied elsewhere. “Yes,” I replied, trying to hide my disappointment. He offered to inform them of my appointable status; a glimmer of hope. Days later, a recruiting manager from another university contacted me. “Would you like to interview for our course?” she asked. “Yes! Of course,” I replied excitedly.
My partner drove me to the interview. I embraced my appointable status, and felt calm. I distracted myself afterwards with a cinema trip. Emerging from the darkness, my phone screen showed ‘1 missed call’ and ‘1 voicemail.’ Nervously, I dialled my voicemail… 9…0…1… and heard “I’m delighted to tell you…” Hooray! Pure relief washed over me.
Psychotherapy training was everything I hoped for. Each lecture, each session, affirmed that I was on the right path. As I began applying for qualified roles, my nerves were jangling. I pressed submit. My journey up to now felt scrappy, I wanted this time to go smoothly. Pacing my hotel room before the interview, I told myself, “I’m excited. The butterflies are a sign of excitement!” I performed well in the interview and I rated my chances an 8/10. I headed into town for lunch, feeling at ease in the warm sunshine.
I was eating a delicious pepperoni pizza when my phone rang, less than an hour after my interview. “You were outstanding; we’d like to offer you the job,” the manager said. “Wow! Thank you so much!” I replied, relieved and excited. I texted everyone I knew and drove to tell my grandparents in person. My Grandpa, beaming with pride, said, unprompted, “You must have been outstanding.” Goosebumps covered my body. I beamed back at him, nodding with tears in my eyes. This was our last conversation before he died. I’m forever grateful.
