Rejection. It’s a file that goes straight in to the HIGHLY PERSONAL folder. It’s not something you want to file under PROUD OF or TODAY WAS A GOOD DAY. Eventually, you can move it to GLAD THIS HAPPENED, but it’s hard to find that folder when you’re sitting there, holding it in your hand. It’s heavy, it’s hard to shake off and it’s personal. Highly personal. Rejection.

Last week, I learned I was not going to be in the next Sketchworks show. For the first time in a year and a half. I have been apart of every single show since January 2009. I’ve stage managed, bought props, cleaned up after every show, carried out trash bags full of wine bottles and Stella Artois caps, ran to the kitchen for a cast member’s bottle of water. Eventually, I made it as a main-stage player and I took little roles, one line characters, and turned them into three dimensional people. I’ve busted my ass, giving up Fridays and Saturdays to be there. Not that I didn’t want to be there because of course I did. Of course I did. I love doing what I do and that’s why I did it month after month with no pay. Because I love it.

But for the fall show? Well, lots of people wanted to be in this show. Lots. And I get it. Seniority plays a large part in it. Most of the people cast in this show have been there a lot longer than I have. And I get it! I totally get it. This is not me whining about not being in the show or how all those other people are like sooo undeserving and they like aren’t funny at allllll and like I’ve worked soooo hard. It was just . . . when I got that email and the cast list didn’t include my name? Sucker punch. I had a feeling it was coming, but it’s like, you can’t stop that thought of I guess I just wasn’t good enough, you know? I feel like scuffing my toes on the floor, peering up through my hair and chewing on the inside of my lip. I feel like a little kid picked last for the kickball team and holy crap, it is the best kickball team ever and I want to be on it so bad. And I’m jealous of the cast and I’m jealous that they’re going to get all the recognition and laughs that come from a really awesome comedy show and I’m terrified that everyone’s going to forget that I was ever in a Sketchworks show.

It’s ridiculous and it’s stupid and after a while I even started thinking “Oh, it’ll be nice to finally be free of a show during the fall. I love the fall and I always miss out!” I was feeling better about it. I had my moment of sensitivity and then I was over it. And then. Well. That whole broken heart thing happened and pulled the rug out from under me. And that whole feeling of rejection just came flying back and smacked me in the face. Like football meets Marcia Brady’s nose smack.

And if you dislike my 1970s pop culture reference, well then I’m SORRY.

I’m cranky. Because all of that rejection happened, all of that feeling inadequate and worthless and a really great opportunity came up. Something that made me extremely excited and feel like maybe I could crawl out of this hole and get back up where I’ve always wanted to be.

And I took a steaming pile of crap on that opportunity, tossed in the backyard and ran inside to cry about it. Because I’m afraid. And because I let fear, much like rejection, ruin my entire day. I let those two little words make decisions for me, affect how I talk to myself and how I feel around others. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid and I know that I don’t have to feel this way. But I do. And I let it control my life.

When is that going to let up? When am I going to get better at taking risks? I talk all this big game about how I want to live life to the fullest and how being scared is a GOOD thing and that big risks equal big rewards. But really? I’m a yellow-bellied coward who wants to climb back in her bed and cry for the rest of the day.

I have never felt so vulnerable as I do right now. I have never told anyone that I let fear control my life or that I take rejection so damn personally. I thought I would feel better, but now I’m worried that everyone will look at me differently. They’ll look at me as The Girl With No Backbone. The Girl Who Will Never Get What She Wants Because She’s Scared. The Girl Who Doesn’t Deserve To Make Her Dreams Come True Because She’s Not Brave. The Girl Who Whines Too Much.

The Girl Who Is Pathetic.

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