"Rejection is Redirection" is Bullsh*t

“Rejection is Redirection” is Bullsh*t

Written by Lindsay gould

At a school like Emerson, where creativity practically buzzes in the air, competition comes with the territory. Every week, it feels like there’s a new application, a new audition, a new opportunity and everyone around you seems brilliant, confident, and with an already stacked resume. And yet, no matter how hard you try or how well you prepare, sometimes–no, scratch that–most of the time, you just don’t get the position.

That’s the part no one really prepares for.

Putting yourself out there, being ambitious, and showing up all comes with rejection. I’ve been told “no” more times than I’ve ever been told “yes.” I’ve fallen short numerous times, from losing big games to receiving my fair share of “We regret to inform you” emails. And the one piece of advice I always hear afterward?

“Rejection is just redirection!”

Honestly? I think that’s bullshit. Complete and utter garbage.

I get where it comes from. It’s supposed to be comforting, right? “Don’t worry, this just means something better is waiting for you!” And sure, in theory, that sounds nice. But when you’ve worked for something, poured your energy into it, and believed in yourself, that kind of advice feels dismissive.

I’ve always been a competitive person. I am a self-identified high-achiever who always took the advanced classes and flipped the monopoly board on family game night (it was only the one time, I swear). I’ve been an athlete since I was four and now play at the collegiate level, so that “win or go home" mentality is basically ingrained into my DNA.

Years of training taught me that early-morning practices, sore muscles, and giving your best effort doesn’t always equal victory. Sports teach you to mask disappointment — to jog off the court like losing doesn’t sting, even when it does. Now, when I don’t get the thing I worked for, that same kid inside me still wants to cry in the backseat. Only now, the losses don’t come with trophies or do-overs.

When someone tells me “rejection is redirection,” I can’t help but think about how badly I wanted the other direction. I wanted the thing I worked for. I wanted to win. And I think most people are too afraid to admit that.

We live in a world that tells us to “move on” almost instantly. Miss out on an opportunity? Just shake it off. Didn’t get the job? On to the next. But I think we deserve to sit with our disappointment for a while and actually internalize it. Because when you’ve trained, prepared, and dreamed about something, losing hurts. It stings. And pretending it doesn’t just cheapens the effort you put in.

It’s not a weakness to feel sad. It’s human.

We don’t talk enough about grieving the version of our lives that didn’t happen. The one where you got the position. The one where the email said “Congratulations!” The one where everything went exactly how you pictured in your head.

That version of your life that felt possible. It was so close you could almost taste it. And when it slips away, it deserves to be mourned – not forever, but for a little while. Because when you grieve, you’re really just honoring your own dedication, your hope, and your heart. You’re recognizing that you showed up for something you believed in.

The truth is, wanting something, really wanting it, is one of the most courageous things you can do. It’s vulnerable. It’s messy. It’s putting your heart on the line knowing full well it might get bashed and bruised. Most people avoid that kind of risk by pretending not to care, or by only chasing the things they’re sure they’ll get. But when you go all in, when you allow yourself to want, that’s bravery.

So maybe you didn’t get the internship, the part, or the win. Maybe the version of you who did is off living somewhere in an alternate timeline. But that doesn’t make this version of you, the one who dared to try, any less capable.

Every time you go after something that matters, you’re telling the world: “I want more from this life and I’m not afraid to ask for it.”

The next time you lose, give yourself permission to feel it. Get mad. Get angry. Be disappointed. Grieve the loss of what could have been. It only means you cared deeply enough to dream it in the first place.

Only when you’re ready – not when someone else says you should be – pick yourself back up, dust off the hurt, and hop back on the horse.

Because maybe rejection isn’t redirection. Maybe it’s just proof that you’re still brave enough to want things. 

Here’s to wanting big and losing loud,

Lindsay