When Rejection Causes You Pain
My 3-year-old nephew Kash brought me to tears one day. Only 1 ½ at the time, my mother was keeping him one hot July weekend, during the summer of 2020. Eager to see the adorable green-eyed, chubby face little boy with sandy brown curls, I drove to her house, with a few hours to spare until my next client appointment, to spend t.i.m.e with him. But upon entering the front door, the sweet greeting that I was anxiously e.x.p.e.c.t.i.n.g, quickly soured. And instead of hugs and kisses for the auntie that had named him, my nephew – whom I was told just moments before my arrival was laughing and playing – screamed to the top of his “fully functioning” lungs at the very sight of me. So troubling was his cry, any onlooker, who did not know me, or the love that I had for this child, would have raised an eyebrow as to question whether I had done something to cause him harm? And now intent on calming him, and distraught by his unusual reaction towards me, I was beginning to feel h.e.l.p.l.e.s.s because my every attempt was failing. Still, my mother, baffled by her grandson’s odd b.e.h.a.v.i.o.r towards me, kept offering suggestions on what I could do to console him. But her suggestions fell on deaf ears, because inwardly I resented each one, as I had never had to try this hard to w.i.n his affection. And yet, I kept trying. And after I had DESPERATELY o.f.f.e.r.e.d everything that I could think of to make him happy, it was clear that nothing was good e.n.o.u.g.h. And I was now ready to concede to the impending feeling that was causing my h.e.a.r.t to shriek with a painful familiarity. A feeling so painful, my intended 3-hour visit, was brought to a sudden end after only 30 minutes. Whereby, I made up an excuse that would allow me to leave in a hurry, so that I could allow my heart to b.r.e.a.k open in the privacy of my own car, on the freeway to my next appointment, where I would cry all the way. This feeling, that left my fragile heart with an inability to decipher between my nephew not wanting me after I had given h.i.m ALL that I had, and the men in my p.a.s.t, not w.a.n.t.i.n.g me, after I had given t.h.e.m the same, was the gut-wrenching feeling of REJECTION. This feeling, up to a few years ago, had been a source of great pain for me. But how could my nephew’s innocent, yet odd behavior, reopen w.o.u.n.d.s that I thought 3 years of therapy had healed? I wrestled with this question over the next week. Struggling to admit the obvious, that though therapy had aided in stitching up a few of my past relationship wounds, I, with my own fingers had prematurely removed the sutures, because presently, I was s.t.i.l.l, desperately offering my b.e.s.t, only to be shown through h.i.s behavior, that it STILL was not g.o.o.d enough. And now, this tortuous sentiment that in the past had echoed so loudly in my relationships, was beginning to reverberate in real estate as well. Whereby the repeated taunts of bid r.e.j.e.c.t.i.o.n.s during a very exhausting season, would begin to f.i.l.l me to the brim of my breaking point, threatening an overflow of d.o.u.b.t, despair and discouragement, that at its crest, left me so d.e.f.e.a.t.e.d as a realtor, that in spare moments, I wrestled with walking away from a profession that I l.o.v.e, if it meant salvaging the remnants of my w.e.a.r.y faith & my sanity.
When You Can’t Win For Losing
I always try to relate to my clients in one way or another. At times it happens naturally as we discover that our culture or l.i.f.e experiences mirror. At other times, it happens intentionally as I uncover similar interest or hobbies or q.u.i.r.k.s in our personalities that might unite us. But this year, during an unprecedented sellers’ market, where most of my clients were buyers, with little effort, the ties that would bind us were clear – they were continuing to offer all that they could, to win the bid of a h.o.m.e they l.o.v.e.d, just as I had offered the same to win the h.e.a.r.t of my p.a.s.t beloved, and yet we both kept getting r.e.j.e.c.t.e.d. But there was one client that stood out during this season, and guiding him through his home-buying process, at times, was not only frustrating, but privately p.a.i.n.f.u.l. Though in the beginning there was total c.o.n.f.i.d.e.n.c.e, and dare I say it, cockiness, that I could not only find his d.e.s.i.r.e.d home, but also have him under contract in my 30-day timeframe. But as the days of our searching rolled into weeks and the weeks into months, and months and months, and months…and months, with repeated d.e.n.i.a.l.s of our many offers, my confidence was now confusion and my cockiness now h.u.m.b.l.e.d, as the vibrant s.p.i.r.i.t that I exhibited at the beginning of our j.o.u.r.n.e.y, was crumbling under the wait weight of disappointment, and its signs of wear & tear becoming increasingly harder to m.a.s.k. But wearing a mask was not new to me, and years before COVID-19, my proverbial drawers had been filled with them, as I had grown accustomed to disguising my disappointments with popular catchphrases & spiritual cliches that gave the illusion that I was prospering in both my professional & personal life, when in reality, both, from my tired viewpoint were f.a.i.l.i.n.g with no w.i.n in sight. And this tumultuous season was no exception. With multiple bids made on a limited inventory of homes, most listing agents, were using the same blanket, robotic script to inform the realtors of the losing bidders, (i.e., me & my clients) that their seller had not selected their offer. And though this statement was innocuous, it somehow seemed to heckle at my own feelings of d.i.s.c.a.r.d.m.e.n.t.
The words “your o.f.f.e.r was…”
not Accepted.
not Chosen.
was Rejected.
or
As one rude @ss, pompous realtor with terrible hair, tactlessly stated, “was nowhere near “good enough”,
would weave itself into the stitching of my old emotional scar tissue, that was hardened but barely h.e.a.l.e.d, allowing me to empathize with their f.e.e.l.i.n.g.s of a frustrated t.r.u.t.h, that sometimes “your best isn’t g.o.o.d enough.” And “it” is in these d.e.s.p.a.i.r.i.n.g spaces with my clients, where I sadly, “r.e.l.a.t.e” to them the most.
When They Don’t Want You
The irony that I seldom interject myself into the dating world out of f.e.a.r of rejection, yet I’ve chosen a career that feeds it, makes me a glutton for punishment in my own eyes. But I am a realist, and I understand that being told “NO” is a part of life, and sometimes there is no explanation for it. As this particular client was bidding on multiple homes over the course of 7 months, doing his best to compete in a way that didn’t leave him with r.e.m.o.r.s.e on the backend, but was reasonable & f.a.i.r, the most difficult part was not being able to tell him why his offers were rejected, because no matter how many times I would inquire, my pleading question to the listing agent would often go unanswered. And all I could assume was that whatever we offered, just wasn’t “good e.n.o.u.g.h”. That’s what made representing buyers like him, in this season so difficult for me, because I knew that for them to purchase a home in such an extreme sellers’ market, tHEy would have to keep g.i.v.i.n.g more & more with no reciprocity, and all I could do was stand helplessly by and watch it, for fear that if I interjected too much caution, I could be the cause of another losing bid.
And this p.o.s.i.t.i.o.n unsettled me
because it went against the teachings of my former counsel.
Years ago, my longtime mentor told me that “in order for your business to be built on fairness & integrity, when negotiating, it is important that both parties walk away feeling as if they’ve w.o.n.” Since being in real estate, that principle has been etched into the fiber of every transaction that bears my name. But unfortunately, it has not always been etched into “the person” who bears the name. And in a candid juxtaposition, as I transparently stand under the spotlight of my personal life, there was one t.o.x.i.c relationship in particular, (not that the others were any better) wherein I knew several t.r.u.t.h.s…
no matter how much of my s.e.l.f–worth I offered him, I would never be “good enough”.
the only w.i.n.n.e.r in our relationsh*t would be him.
&
after giving him my b.e.s.t, I would keep getting rejected.
But there is something about r.e.j.e.c.t.i.o.n, that if you are b.r.a.v.e enough, makes you want to keep trying. For soME, it is the chase of wanting someone something you can’t have, & not stopping until you get it. For others, such as my clients, their bravery was tied to a home-buying goal that they were determined to achieve, because of the equitable g.a.i.n it would give them in the future. But my bravery was not about a chase, nor was it tied to a goal that had a f.u.t.u.r.e gain. I simply wanted a man, whom by his behavior did not w.a.n.t me back. And instead of a.c.c.e.p.t.i.n.g that and rescinding the o.f.f.e.r of MY b.o.d.y, MY heart, MY time, & MY v.i.r.t.u.e, I continued to offer M.O.R.E out of F.E.A.R that I would L.O.S.E the b.i.d of his “emotional unavailability” to someone else. Years ago, when I was in therapy, during one of my weekly sessions, as I was painfully reflecting on a few of my p.a.s.t relationsh*ts, my therapist pointed out an unhealthy pattern of mine that she had observed. She said that in all my relationships, I was the g.i.v.e.r, and tHEy were the receiver. To illustrate her point so that I could clearly visualize it, she said “LaToya, in ALL of your relationships, you NOT ONLY brought to the table, but you also BROUGHT THE TABLE!” And then she softly asked me a simple question, “why?” And as I sat there quietly, with t.e.a.r.s falling uncontrollably down my mascara-stained face, unable to answer her question, she struck me again, with a piercing arrow of t.r.u.t.h when she said “Not one of those men e.v.e.r brought or even o.f.f.e.r.e.d you anything of v.a.l.u.e because you didn’t r.e.q.u.i.r.e them to.” And as much as I did not want to b.e.l.i.e.v.e that & the fiery Aries in me wanted to rebut her statement, I knew that she was right. Relationsh*t after Relationsh*t, we would sit at a lavish table that I had brought, and while TheY would feast on the fattened portions of my offerings, I would do my b.e.s.t to fill-up on the crumbs of tHeIrS. This disheartening revelation of my past would also speak to a man that I was presently involved with at the time, and out of the men that would sit at my table, only he would sit at the head. And though his crumbs filled me the least, I still savored every bite, often w.a.n.t.i.n.g seconds of his nothingness. But this recollection of my past is not to demean him or the other men from it, because I can’t blame him for devouring the offerings of my s.e.l.f–esteem when I chose to s.p.r.e.a.d it before him. But moreover, to speak to the choices I had made to place myself in a position to be treated that way by those that never appreciated ALL that I had to offer to begin with.
Now in an eerie feeling of déjà vu, as I’ve watched ravenous sellers gorge on the bounteous o.f.f.e.r.s of buyers this season, no matter which one I represented, I understood that both had a position of c.h.o.i.c.e.
And the one that chooses to have their cup f.i.l.l.e.d to overflowing at the expense of the otHER being e.m.p.t.i.e.d, is not to b.l.a.m.e if the one with the spout c.h.o.o.s.e.s to keep pouring.
When The Right One Accepts You
Seeing myself in this analogy, I admit, I had often maintained a p.o.s.i.t.i.o.n of s.e.l.f.l.e.s.sness to my own detriment when it came to relationships. I had No Balance & No Boundaries. C.h.o.o.s.i.n.g continuously to “pour out” with an unstable hand, the qualities I intrinsically possessed until I was e.m.p.t.i.e.d, and have it regarded as “not good enough”, though p.a.i.n.f.u.l, was a normal f.e.e.l.i.n.g for me. But it wasn’t that my offer was wrong, but that I kept offering to the w.r.o.n.g person. And this revelation would reposition me not only in my personal life but in my professional life as well.
Worn-the-hell-out from showing this client close to 100 homes, in hindsight, I now have an appreciation for his p.o.s.i.t.i.o.n; he would offer his b.e.s.t to a seller, but not at the expense of being emptied. And regardless of how many times he was rejected, or how his “patient” realtor worked MANY MONTHS unpaid, he would control his p.o.u.r with a steady hand. And for him, it finally paid off. After seven months of endless searching, 1000’s of miles traveled & nine rejections later, we made our 10th offer on a home we both felt was just r.i.g.h.t for him. And though what he offered was less than what the seller initially w.a.n.t.e.d, it was still his best, and therefore a.c.c.e.p.t.e.d, because for this seller, his best was finally “good enough”.
I learned a valuable lesson from that experience, one that paralleled with the lesson my nephew Kash taught me.
The following weekend, after my h.e.a.r.tbreaking visit with him & still a glutton for punishment, I drove an hour away to my sister’s house to see him again. This time prepared for his r.e.j.e.c.t.i.o.n, I went in with my heart “guarded”, and my e.x.p.e.c.t.a.t.i.o.n.s managed. Though not sure how he would respond to me, I poured out my b.e.s.t offering with a slow & steady hand throughout the hours of my visit,
A little Attention.
A lot of Love.
And as much Affection as he would a.l.l.o.w.
And in the end, what I offered him was finally accepted. And the sweet hugs and kisses that I was a.n.x.i.o.u.s.l.y expecting but denied the week before, I now received over & over again in abundance. Proving that for the r.i.g.h.t person – even a little one – “Your B.E.S.T is ALWAYS Good Enough.” ?
Happy 3rd Birthday to my nephew Kash
Happy 2nd Birthday to my blog RALRE.
I love you both! ? ?
Dedicated to my buyer(s) that continued to offer their b.e.s.t this season, despite the numerous rejections. ?
