Yesterday Philipa Perry said on Twitter: I’ll answer any questions you may have until I fall asleep 😴ask me anything.
I had to think about this. One, because it was now the following day and I wasn’t sure she would still be answering questions (there had been a lot of them from her 160K followers), and two, there were literally so many things I could seek her counsel on I didn’t know where to start. In the end I plumped for the following: How could I stop being someone who collects rejection please?
Delighted I was to receive a reply! This is what she said: Collect the positives instead, This is hard because instinctively we look for rejection or aggression so we can keep safe. But make yourself count 3 positives for every negative.
I would never have thought of that! I was really grateful that she replied. Not just because I now have a strategy to cope with one of my major loops in the Low Mood canon, but also because if she hadn’t said anything that would have become another stick to beat myself over the head with.
So I thought of three positives to rub over the rejection balm regarding being dumped by my ex: 1: I’m sober from booze 2: I had a two month affair with one of the most famous psychotherapists in Britain (the unlikelihood of this occurrence still resonances getting on for a year since it happened) 3: Writing my blog (I’ve finally find the form I enjoy writing in).
It does work actually. It was a good question to ask as well as my brain pretty much works like a mnemonic device for past rejections. I’ll probably mull one of them over a day, at least. And today has already furnished me with one example of such. On my way back from my cafe latte J. (Proprietor of local trendy cafe that ignored my CV after I applied for a job) walked by me with his two kids. As I haven’t clapped eyes on him since before the lockdown it took me a while to recognise him but once I did, and he looked right through me, that familiar feeling of gloom infiltrated my being. So I quickly applied my Philipa Perry balm: I considered three positives 1: Writing my blog. 2: I’ve now saved a considerable chunk of money. 3: I’m sober.
It definetly diverts my thinking along more positive lines.
Then I got another one. Actually not so much a rejection as frustration: Since the day before yesterday my Twitter link to this Blog has been displaying the following message when I post my link: 404 Not Found. This is really winding me up, despite the fact that I don’t think anyone (apart from one Bookselling days friend) clicks on the link. I just don’t know what to do! It has occurred before, but the sorted itself out without my intervention, but doesn’t appear to be magically realigning this time. Technology 😬 Any tips would be gratefully received.
Actually, talking of tips, I’d be glad for any pointers from you. I’ve just started this in business, and whilst I’m not currently looking for cash rewards for my scribbling, I would like readers. It’s nice feeling heard, so thanks, if you’ve got this far.
What else? Yesterday I went on a bit of an in-county adventure, and made a bus journey to visit some new friends I’ve made. They invited me round for tea, and afterwards we all went to the local AA meeting. By the time I got home my brain was buzzing with all the excitement of my activities, and my dream life was very full on as a result. But I can’t be bothered to rehash all of that. Suffice it to say that Nick Cave made an appearance, and when I woke up I was rather disappointed to be returned back to my humdrum existence.
For the past three or four nights I’ve been watching Blood Pact on Channel Four. It’s part of the Walter Presents collection they store as ‘boxed sets’. I thoroughly enjoyed the three seasons they had produced, and am rather wondering what I will do tonight when TV time sets in. At this stage of the proceedings I’m feeling that I’ve more or less viewed everything worth watching across the channels I access. If you haven’t seen it I throughly recommend, although it gets a bit stressful. The characters are all risk takers (totally unlike me) and I found myself wanting to shout: Stop! Stop! Stop! More times than was comfortable.