Brian and Angela Anderson move forward after tragedy. Photos by Keith Borgmeyer As you turn down the long gravel path toward the Andersons’ home...
As this is the Arts Issue of COMO Living, I thought I’d explore an issue that all artists have to deal with at some point: rejection. All artists, even successful ones, are rejected. As a writer, I am rejected on a daily basis. Please do not mistake that for hyperbole. I literally receive rejection letters almost every single day for work that I have spent hours and days and months creating. I’m not going to lie…it kind of sucks. But, art is a subjective business, and if you’re going to work in a creative field, you have to realize that rejection is just part of the gig.
I did not, however, anticipate how much rejection was involved in the parenting gig. Maybe because when you have a baby, rejection seems impossible. After all, your helpless little creature couldn’t possibly reject you because for one, they can’t even talk. But more importantly, they need you for fundamental things such as food and shelter. As newborns grow into babies and then into toddlers, need is still a prime component of your relationship. They need you to change their diapers. They need you to get them dressed. They need you to give them your iPad. They need, need, need to the point that a little rejection would be a welcome change.
And then somewhere toward the end of elementary school, subtle changes set in. “No, Mommy, you don’t have to volunteer for my field trip,” “You don’t need to walk me into school,” “You don’t have to hug and kiss me goodbye when you drop me off at Timmy’s house.” You think, “Ok, my child is becoming independent.” That’s a good thing, right? And during this phase they still need you, of course, because they can’t reach the top shelf in the pantry, and that’s where you keep all the candy.
But then somewhere during the middle school years, their needs change and begin to center around two things: transportation and money. These are not their only needs, but they are certainly the only needs they want to talk to you about. So that means that the other things you offer your children—your values, hopes, dreams, wisdom— are often rejected. And let me tell you, rejection from an 11 to 14 year-old, who has not yet perfected the subtlety of constructive criticism ,can be severe.
No joke, my daughter asked me last week why my face was “like that.” She literally rejected my face. I wasn’t sure how to respond to this as this is the only face I have, so I just gave her my most sympathetic look and said in a loving tone, “I don’t know, honey. We’re just going to have to get through this together.”
And I think that is the key to rejection— treating it with one measure of acceptance and two or three measures of perseverance. Because rejections will happen in every aspect of our social and professional lives whether we choose to become artists, parents, lawyers, athletes or anything other than a giant pile of cold hard cash. It kind of sucks, but there it is.
So, I try not to let my kid’s subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) rejection bother me too much. I don’t let it stop me from parenting. I don’t let it dictate how and why I make decisions about their well-being, nor do I take it too personally. I also use my own stories of rejection to help them become comfortable with the idea that they too will one day face rejection, despite what all their “participation” ribbons have taught them. I tell them about all my writing rejections. I tell them how sometimes it makes me feel bad. I make jokes about this or that editor’s lack of vision. And in the end, I show them how I go back to work and try to improve. Because to quote every successful artist—and parent— ever: “Rejection doesn’t equal failure. The only way you fail for sure is if you stop trying.”