An Invitation is Not Always Inclusion

I was invited to a retirement party. I felt honored—especially because I deeply respect the person and I found out, not everyone was able to be invited. Earlier in the day I’d been sought out for a potential opportunity; I was crushing my work, school, and mom tasks; I felt on top of the world.

Then, unexpectedly, it all came tumbling down.

I was the second person there (aside from the guest of honor). I sat with them and we started chatting, all seemed well. Then more people arrived. They sat at a different table. My two table-mates gravitated over to them. I was left sitting alone. No invitation to join the group. No explanation. More folks kept arriving; the energy shifted entirely to the other table. I sat in the corner, watching. My boss—who had been excited about my application for a role, who had waited for it and had a hard time containing her joy in our interview—was among that table.

My image of myself shattered in that moment.

Rejection has a funny way of sticking to you. It’s so much harder to shake off than the high of achievement, awards, recognition, doing good. No matter how much you tell yourself, “It’s just my head. It probably wasn’t intentional.” – the rumination doesn’t stop. It shouts louder than all the wins. It shouts doubt, shame, guilt, disappointment, worthlessness.

Our brain and nervous system often take social exclusion or rejection far more personally than we think. As our PS Society President reminded us at a wonderful meet up, researchers refer to this as the concept of rejection sensitivity (RS) — the tendency to anxiously expect, readily perceive, and overreact to rejection. 

What does that mean for us?

• When we see or feel that we are excluded—even if it wasn’t intentional—our brain may interpret that as a threat to social belonging, which historically was a survival risk.

• That emotional alarm can override rational thought: we’re wired to feel we’re rejected, and then our brain churns on “what does this mean about me?”

• Because we’re also thinking beings, we layer in interpretation, meaning-making, stories (“They must think I don’t matter,” “I’m not good enough,” “They don’t like me,” etc.).

• The result: even when the objective event is ambiguous (e.g., sitting alone at a table), the subjective experience of being rejected can trigger acute pain and rumination.

Rejection is not your Reflection

Then I remembered something: I have other people who accept me, for me. I have people who value me and my thoughts, my ideas. The folks I work with are important—but they don’t define me, or my work. They don’t reflect any of what I do, nor do they reflect me at all.

People have expectations. People have perceptions. People reject. Sometimes not even intentionally—but it happens. I don’t need to be accepted by everyone. I don’t need to be included in everything. I showed up. I was me. And I will keep showing up.

Thanks to my community—my partner, PS Society, my Behavioral Elements Guide group, the chosen friends who’ve picked me—I know I don’t have to shut down and believe I’m worthless or not good enough.

Does that remove the sting completely? No. But knowing I’m not alone in this means everything.

What We Can Do With This Knowledge

• Name it. Recognizing “I’m feeling rejected, and this could be RS” gives you distance from the thought “they rejected me = I’m worthless.”

• Allow the emotion. Feeling hurt doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re human and wired to belong.

• Re-frame the story. Invite other possible meanings: “Their grouping wasn’t about me,” or “The boss needs to relax too, she shouldn’t have to be on guard with what she says around her subordinate.” The brain can learn new patterns via neuroplasticity. 

• Reach into your rightful tribe. PS Society is a great one that will reach back to you as well. Remind yourself of those who see you. The belonging you feel there matters more.

• Show up anyway. Being present—even in the corner—still counts. Your value isn’t defined by the table you sit at. Even if they are, in fact, a$$holes, it's not your reflection, it's theirs. What you do in your present, in your moment, matters.

• Practice self-compassion. If your brain rings the alarm of “I’m rejected,” speak with kindness: “This hurts. I’m ok. I matter.”

  
  

P.S. You matter. You are not alone. You are welcome at the table, and you'll always have an invitation to join here.