In the back of my closet hangs a white suit I bought for the initiation of the sorority I am not joining. This weekend as I cleaned my room I sat in my floor throwing away invitations to the rush meeting, and past invitations to others. I hesitated for a moment before also pulling down the suit and folding it neatly in a bag with other clothes for goodwill.

I thought about keeping it. Just like I thought about keeping pictures and texts from past relationships. And I decided it was all nothing more than a constant visual reminder of forks in the road where “my” way deterred from “the” way. Why, I asked myself, hold on to souvenirs of rejection?

Let it also be known that I do not look at rejection as an awful thing. Of course at the time it can feel awful…but that’s because we are so at odds with our wants (and how dare the universe not bend to our will) and what is best for us. In moments of rejection I do not feel grateful, nurtured, cared for, and protected. But in hindsight that is always what was happening. Whenever something fell apart something else, something greater–often bolder than even my imagination–falls together.

I was telling a friend of mine about my first love. How I’d never laughed so much with someone and how when that relationship ended I wondered if I’d be so lucky as to find that again. I was afraid *chuckle* to let it go because I thought I’d surely never have it that good again. The thing is…god/the universe/the divine or whatever you call your almighty, does not do almost or halfway. So what good was that laughter, that fun, that abandon without all the other stuff? The stuff that let me know I had to move on; the stuff that showed me he was nothing more than a monkey trap.

So maybe, I figure, everything…every rejection is a potential monkey trap. They all have the power to keep me there in the misery of not having what I want yet not moving towards any new goal. I made the choice to move on. To not just pack away those old goals, not to keep the suit or the invites or the mementos…but to move on. To be at peace without them in my life and more than that, to give thanks. Even amidst my disappointment, my solitude, my singlehood…to give constant gratitude. My story isn’t over and no rejection can keep me away from what is meant for me. Perhaps my rejections give me exactly what I need to fully step into my blessings. You never know.

Thanks to all the men that have left me, I know now how strong I can be alone. And I couldn’t always say that and mean it. Thank you to the jobs that never called me back, I might have settled for you and you would not have fed my soul. Thank you to my rejections because you saved me from myself.

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