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I had a recent work experience where I had to approach people and ask if I could talk to them for a few minutes. Many said yes. Some said no, thank you. And some told me to get lost. For those people, I will have a white-hot burning resentment that will burn within me for the rest of my life.

Wow, rejection hurts, doesn’t it? I don’t experience much of it these days. I’ve been with my wife for 28 years, so I haven’t had the pleasure of approaching someone and asking them out and having them tell you that they have no interest in you, which I think is probably the toughest kind of rejection. I certainly remember the dating scene and what it felt like to get dumped or ghosted by someone. But most of that was 30 years ago, so the agony of those moments definitely has worn off a bit.

I certainly pitch things at work and get declined on a regular basis. I wouldn’t say it’s fun but it never seems to cut my guts out. I think professional rejection is often pretty gentle—most workplaces require rejection to sound more like, “Let’s hold off on that for now” rather than “You suck and so does this idea.”

When those people blew me off the other day, I think I handled it pretty well. I slinked off and looked around to see if anybody else noticed. That seems to be a crucial part of how much I let rejection bother me: Did anybody else see my shame and humiliation as it happened? WHAT WILL THEY THINK OF ME?!?!?!

But I did realize two things. One is that I don’t think I have the spine to ever get into sales—I’d take every rejection as a soul-crusher. The second is, I don’t think I would handle dating or getting dumped very well, either.

I ended up spending some time in deep thought about rejection. Why does it hurt so much? Think about it for a second. In theory, if you live a good life and love your family and can afford food and heat for your house and try to always do the next right thing… you’re okay, right? Why would someone blowing you off or telling you that you have food in your teeth send you reeling for the rest of the day? When I’m in the right place, my ego is the exact size it should be—not too small, not too big, and if you tell me I am a bad driver, I will smile and go about my day. It doesn’t tear my heart out.

I think that’s where humility comes in. I can’t be humiliated if I have humility. But humility can be hard to drum up, or at least hold onto. I tend to drift to either thinking I am extremely important and everybody is paying attention to me… or to, I suck and nothing matters. Humility is knowing that you are neither of those things. I’m just another bozo on the bus, as we say in recovery.

So how do you get humility and keep it? I don’t know if an exact formula exists. I will say that I think you want to surround yourself with people and situations that never allow you to veer off to any extreme. I have recovery people in my life who I know would never let me get away with thinking too much of myself, and they would never let me drop to a place where I was sulking too much.

I do think one thing I need to always remember is that humility cannot be bought on Amazon or kept forever—it’s something I need to chase every day like I chased drugs and alcohol.

This newsletter is a place of joy and laughter about the deadly serious business of sobriety. So, as I will often do, let me close with a joke:

Two men walked into a bar.

You’d think the second one would have swerved.

(Credit: AA Grapevine, November 2001, Fritzi J. from Conyers, Georgia)

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