Like any well-adjusted 20-year-old woman, I have rejected, and I have been rejected. Countless salty tears and McDonald’s Diet Cokes became my lifeline after rejection from boys I loved, girls I wanted to be friends with and teachers who just didn’t like me.

Those who know me well know that I have a tendency to squeeze my way into people’s lives—settling myself idly between the crosshairs of their existence. I have loved and lost so many times that my heart is scattered across the states, from a lost friend in Milwaukee to an old high school frenemy in Florida.

I am no stranger to rejection.

Years of “no’s” and “you just aren’t what I am looking for” have led me to a set of rules I follow. A quick disclaimer: These rules are ambiguous, and they certainly have little basis in reality. However, despite their shortcomings, I have gotten through heartbreak and college admissions and denial with these four simple rules.

After all, rejection is simply redirection, it’s simply whether or not you choose to rule it as such.

Photo courtesy of Ellie Shelton

RULE 1: Do not, under any circumstances, hate someone because they are too similar to you.

My best friend and I spent the first three weeks of our forced quality time in a constant stalemate. Sharing the same name as someone sounds fun until you are 14, have transitional glasses, a deep passion for musical theater and a hunger for a varsity spot on the golf team.

While I thought she was the coolest, she thought I hated her, and thus hated me in return.We were about as nerdy as they come, more similar than anyone else on our team, but still, decided that because the other was “too similar,” being friends was out of the cards.

Forced conversation, pointed glares and jealous practices defined our time together for the first month of our unintentional friendship. Weeks after beginning our stalemate, in a large cafeteria that held 100 other students, I found myself standing directionless. Peeking around the open area for a familiar face, I began to panic. Suddenly, through the sea of anonymous faces judging my skinny jeans and floral top, I see a high ponytail and blue backpack I could recognize anywhere.

Sneaking up behind her, I pull out the chair beside her, and ask, “This seat taken?”

With a sigh of relief, Ellie invites me in, and the rest is history. I have spent six incredible years with Ellie as my best friend. Many see us as inseparable, designating us “Ellie squared.” I often wonder what would have happened had I never overcome my fear of rejection that day in the cafeteria. Who would I even be without Ellie—the girl who knows what to say so well, I have dubbed her my personal AI chatbot.

Ellie’s openness and rejection of fear has taught me the importance of throwing myself into people’s lives without regret. More importantly, to never reject someone due to your own insecurity, for your worst enemy may be your best friend.

Photo courtesy of Ellie Shelton

RULE 2: Be loud and annoying—those who reject that aren’t your friends.

I have a tendency to embarrass myself in public—a lack of social awareness from a young age will do that to someone. I love to dance, sing and make a fool of myself no matter where I am, and it’s always been that way. So, growing up, I had my fair share of moments where I embarrassed myself along with my friends.

Abby and I had been best friends since fourth grade—I followed her every move, joining musicals, soccer, and taking similar middle school electives just to get a portion of her coolness. After years of endless hours in cafeterias dancing about for our musical, I knew I had finally clinched Abby as a best friend.

I was thrilled to head into high school with her. We were finally becoming adults—despite the owl pencil case I was still using. I couldn’t wait to make new friends with her and find new hobbies, so you can imagine my surprise when Abby quickly took to finding me outrageously upsetting to be around.

A chorus of “Ellie, stop,” “Why are you trying to embarrass everyone right now,” and my personal favorite —“Why are you always so loud? Could you not be annoying for one day?” started to dictate our time spent together.

As most post-high school young adults can say, I wish I had the courage to have stood up for myself and recognize or even embrace her rejection at that age. However, at 14, denial tends to be the easiest option. So, I spent four years waiting for the softcore bullying to stop—it never did.

There is no big blowup moment in which I finally told Abby we were done (but how cool would that have been?). Instead, in typical high school fashion, Abby and I slowly grew apart until we eventually ceased all communication—that is, until I ran into her at our local Target, standing in front of me, eyes wide with terror.

Separation quickly removed the rose-colored glasses from our relationship as I realized the bullying I had endured from my best friend for years, under the guise of the black-cat, golden-retriever trope (that by the way, only I had ever said about us).

I’ve learned from my favorite people that those who want to be your friend will love your terrible jokes, your booming voice and your terrible dance moves. Weirdly enough—they actually encourage it. Those who don’t, never will. Cut them loose and accept rejection.

RULE 3: Just because you aren’t picked for something doesn’t mean your work meant nothing.

As a Covid senior, I was thrilled by the prospect of going anywhere but Muskego, Wisconsin. So, I was very excited when I found two large state schools that felt like the perfect fit. They had therapy dogs on campus, incredible meal plans and great programs.

I was ready to apply and had an inkling I would get in—my first mistake. Being a senior during Covid meant having to live in delusion in a lot of ways but, in this case, I had to believe I would get into the schools I liked, despite the influx of large applicant pools. Spoiler alert—I got rejected, like, a lot.

Sitting on the counter of my high school dressing room before going on stage for my last musical, I opened a decision letter from four separate schools. “Rejected; Unfortunately; Please try again,” all lined my inbox. I told no one, put my phone down, wiped a stray tear and walked outside to sing.

There is no ego hit like a college rejection when you think you are a shoe-in. As I ran through my application essay, 13 clubs (many of which I lead) and stellar GPA, I could not understand why I had put in so much work. Afterall, if the ends don’t bring me what I hoped for, why justify the means?

I was rejected from almost every school I was interested in. I felt horrible, like the endless nights in tears over a varsity meet or a missed high note didn’t mean anything. I walked into an old teacher’s room and spoke with her about my rejection.

“What was the point?” I asked.

“In those four years and thirteen clubs, did you ever have a good time?” she asked.

I stared confused for a while … of course I had. I met my very best friend through golf, placed in the top 3 in the state in forensics, found a love for music in musicals: the benefits were endless.

“One essay and a piece of paper will never be able to define the experience you had. You didn’t do those things for so long just to build a resume—you did them out of passion, for friendship, for yourself.”

These words have rung true as I have continued to fail and be rejected time and time again. My time is worth more than just an end goal. Rejection does not define my being.

Photo courtesy of Ellie Shelton

RULE 4: Do not stay just because you think rejection will kill someone else—it won’t.

I spent three years of my early adulthood in a long-distance relationship. My first two years of college were defined by late-night phone calls, time-zone differences, and long train trips to a small college town in Indiana. After three wonderful years with a boy who lived hundreds of miles away, we began to grow apart in ways that couldn’t be repaired.

Disconnecting from someone you were told by many was “perfect for you” is frankly terrifying, and not enough people are talking about it. I spent around six months trying to rebuild a relationship on grounds that were no longer solid. Grasping for anything I could to regain that connection we once had, I would cry and scream and beg for him to love me in the way I needed—without ever realizing he couldn’t give that to me.

Realizing someone is rejecting you while you are in a relationship is almost scarier than getting rejected right away. It’s confusing and unfair and doesn’t make much sense when you are trying to get on the same page as someone.

Rather than confronting it, I shut down and shut him out. Communication was nonexistent. I would leave him on read, ignore calls and make plans around our usual call time to ignore the fact that he was rejecting me, whether or not he realized it.

After a half year of the awkward limbo of trying to salvage a relationship that was dead in the water, I knew it was time. We were hurting each other and what was once a wonderful friendship was now ruined.

Even though I knew he didn’t want to be in the relationship, I wasn’t sure that he did, so I waited and stewed on my decision for months.

Finally, on a dark winter night, after a family Christmas party, I turned to him and said, “I think we would be better as friends.”

Legs shaking and tears welling in my eyes, I watched as my then-boyfriend stared at me. After an eternity of silence he smiled and said, “Me, too.”

Rejection can bring pain, it can bring despair. However, it also brings relief.

There have been many times in my life where I have declined to reject someone to save their own ego, with both parties feeling cheated in the end. While my breakup wasn’t easy and still has its struggles, my rejection lead to a better understanding of my own ego, self-worth, and needs. This isn’t a story in which I find someone who is perfect for me after my ex. Sometimes rejection leads you to outcomes you don’t prefer.

I loved my ex deeply and had a wonderful relationship with him. However, the truth does not cease to exist even when you reject it—we weren’t right for each other. Finding peace within rejection is and has been liberating, After years of fearing rejection and despairing over the possibility of a “no,” I have found that it really just never is that deep.

If there is one thing I have learned from my many rejections, it is that all of the best things in life require a degree of rejection. Breakups come with pints of Ben and Jerry’s, but they also bring you the richest friendships you’ve ever had; rejection letters cause teary-eyed nights, but they bring you to a new school with your best friends; lost friends come with palpable loneliness, but they also lead you to heroic individualism. These things are terrible, but they are also good—they can be ambiguous and exist as both in our lives.

It is innately human to reject our own rejection. However, rejection is not fatal, it isn’t defining, and it isn’t failure. We must feel rejection to grow as people—we cannot expect success without also feeling rejection. If you yearn to reap the benefits of love, of friendship, of life, you must subject yourself to the possibility of being rejected.

Four rules will never cover the complexities of life—it is confusing, frustrating, ambiguous, and requires much more thought than my 20-year-old self could have given it. For now, though, I will stick to my Diet Coke, my Ben and Jerry’s, and my rules to handle whatever rejection is thrown my way.

Header image courtesy of Ellie Shelton