“Rejection teaches you about where you stand. There is nothing wrong with that. When I look back at the time, I don’t regret being rejected, but I regret wasting years.”
Neeraj Agnihotri, Procrasdemon - The Artist’s Guide to Liberation From Procrastination
“I can’t go on, I’ll go on.”
Samuel Beckett, I Can’t Go On, I’ll Go On: A Samuel Beckett Reader
I absolutely regret being rejected but I can definitely see that if I continue to waste years, I’ll regret that even more. There is no joy in depression - walking through life paralyzed in confusion, bewilderment, fear, and uncertainty. But there are things that are certain. There are things that are clear and understandable and that have real backbone to them. But, if that paralysis was weak, I would have no resource for all of the beautiful music, poetry, art, and other imperative material that will be collected on this site.
But why is it so hard to get out of that unbearable grip when I know that there is so much beauty to experience, explore, and create? Everyone tells me, “It’ll get better with time.” I see examples of that time and time again. If I know this is true, and if I am experiencing the heartbreak becoming weaker, why can’t I just fast-forward my emotions to that day when it’s better. I don’t know. Partly because it will never ever be completely better…and I do know that. I’m not just accepting that to be dramatic. It is a fact. Maybe not for everyone, but it is for me.
In “A Grief Observed” by C.S. Lewis, he writes:
“Getting over it so soon? But the words are ambiguous. To say the patient is getting over it after an operation for appendicitis is one thing; after he’s had his leg off is quite another. After that operation either the wounded stump heals or the man dies. If it heals, the fierce, continuous pain will stop. Presently he’ll get back his strength and be able to stump about on his wooden leg. He has ‘got over it.’ But he will probably have recurrent pains in the stump all his life, and perhaps pretty bad ones; and he will always be a one-legged man. There will be hardly any moment when he forgets it. Bathing, dressing, sitting down and getting up again, even lying in bed, will all be different. His whole way of life will be changed. All sorts of pleasures and activities that he once took for granted will have to be simply written off. Duties too. At present I am learning to get about on crutches. Perhaps I shall presently be given a wooden leg. But I shall never be a biped again.”
I will never be a biped again, but I’ll get along and I will, hopefully, get to a point where the things I make, say, and do will no longer be a reflection of my past but a testament of hope, joy, and beauty.
Mel Brooks once said, “Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you fall into an open sewer and die.” Maybe I’ll turn this into a comedy yet…