Therapy – Feeling Rejection

Feelings of rejection were still hot topic at Friday’s group therapy. The previous week, the two Therapists were asking about the feelings that come up from Mum’s habitual silent treatment.

“What comes before the hurt and anger?” they asked.

It turns out there is no particular answer. Dr J was encouraging me to “observe the feelings” rejection invokes. This sounds like basic stuff, but it might as well be in telly-tubby-language.

This got me thinking about a child’s ability to identify feelings of rejection, if he never actually experiences connection. If everything you see appears in the same shade of red, how could you possibly describe red without a comparison with the other colours?

I love blogging because it can open doors to new and unexpected insights. I’m suddenly reminded of an incident that happened at the beginning of group. It feels rather pathetic and a touch embarrassing to admit, but the relevance to rejection makes the humiliation seem worthwhile.

On Friday morning, I arrived at the group therapy room two minutes early. Three other group members had tried to gain access shortly before me, but interrupted the Therapists having a meeting. Bear with me this really is going somewhere!

As group got underway, Dr J was explaining to everyone why they have a meeting prior to our session and if we could wait in the reception area until someone comes to fetch us. This is all straightforward enough, so what could be so triggering?

As Dr J was explaining this to the group, she only looked at the three members who stumbled across their meeting earlier, but she did not look in my direction once. As soon as regular discussions got underway, Dr J was making regular eye contact again, but it was too late, my mind was already on a slippery slope.

I know, I know, my inner child had his arms folded tightly, in a right old pouting huff. The point to all this is, there have been countless Dr J’s before her, through school, in college, work and socially, those hypersensitive paranoid assumptions transpire as untrue, verging ridiculous, but they all seem to hold one key ingredient.

In the midst of those life-sucking moments, an inner battle ensues between my adult rational mind and a deep-seated need to withdraw to a place that feels incredibly dark and lonely. Something about it reminds me of childhood. In a blink of an eye, I feel… invisible… unimportant… unheard and disregarded… I feel… rejected.