I have a fear of rejection. I know what you’re thinking. “Everybody has a fear of rejection, get over it.” Or maybe you’re not thinking that, but my fear of rejection is telling me you’re thinking that. Who knows?

Anyway, everyone sharing a fear doesn’t make it any easier. My broken leg won’t suddenly feel better because you tell me people have them all the time. My anxiety won’t get better if you tell me everybody gets nervous. So I really don’t care if everyone has a fear of rejection. It’s still my fear and you can’t have it.

Rejection’s large shadow has always loomed over me. I fear success because of it. Success means expectations and expectations mean more room for rejection. So please don’t compliment me about anything, ever…Why aren’t you telling me how good of a job I did?

What is rejection anyway? It’s someone or something telling me I’m not good enough. Though it’s rarely ever actually said, the slightest hint of something that could possibly be construed to have some sort of negative connotation can become all out rejection in the matter of a few neural microseconds.

Not good enough. That’s the basis of it all.

How do you fix a pervasive feeling of not being good enough? Constant validation. I love validation. I crave validation. Internal validation isn’t good enough. I need someone to reassure me at all times. If people could just tell me they like me every five minutes or so I might be able to feel pretty fantastic most of the time. So I guess I actually do like compliments — as long as there’s a constant and steady stream of them.

Fear of rejection has kept from asking for dates, asking for help, getting extra sour cream on my taco, doing things I want to do, not doing things I don’t want to do, and pretty much anything else that would require me to speak up. A possible negative response for any reason whatsoever is enough to keep the mental tape across my mouth.

Small talk is torture. My mouth begs to speak but my mind clamps it shut. “Nice weather we’re having, huh?” What if they don’t like sunshine? What if their parents died from skin cancer? What if they give me a bad look? What if I don’t know how to respond to their response? This interaction is going to be playing in my head over and over for at least the next three days so it better be perfect. You know what? It’s better not to say anything…Oh god! Why didn’t I say something??

Why such a fear of rejection? I’m not really sure. It could be the feelings it conjures up. Bad feelings. Nervous, a little sick. Panic. But why? Nothing actually bad ever happens. So someone doesn’t think my idea is the greatest thing they’ve ever heard of? Doesn’t mean they don’t like me. Being rejected means absolutely nothing 99% of the time. Being turned down for a dream job is one thing, but being told they’re out of 99 cent Tuesday chicken at Popeye’s is another. Yet they both carry their own lingering stench of rejection.

So really it’s feelings. I’m afraid of my own feelings. I’m afraid of not feeling good enough. I’m afraid of someone poking a stick into my open wound, no matter how small the poke or how small the stick. Rejection is no fun when you take everything so personally.

It also doesn’t help that I’m very self-centered. If someone’s having a bad day, it’s my fault. Everyone is always thinking about me at all times and everything they do is a reflection of their attitude toward me. Someone sighs forlornly within earshot? What’d I do wrong? Someone’s having a bad day and has a scowl on their face? What’d I do? Are they mad at me?

It’s a perfect storm of rejection. I take everything personally, I constantly feel like I’m not good enough, I rely on outside validation, everything is always about me, and I’m afraid of my own feelings. Add all that up and I have a pretty unhealthy fear of rejection. Oh, and I’m a perfectionist.

Maybe I need to work on that. Unless you don’t think it’s a good idea. You’ll still like me if I do, right? Are you mad at me? I’m sorry.