The Sting We Don’t Talk About
Two rejections.
One week.
Both mine.
The first? A speaker proposal for the International Coaching Federation Converge 2025. A topic on identity and race—one I knew might make some folks uncomfortable. It wasn’t their usual brew. But I hit “submit” anyway, proud of what I created.
The second? The Black History Makers grant. A national opportunity spotlighting Black-owned businesses. I had high hopes for that one. I imagined the funding. I imagined the impact. I imagined the win.
They both said no.
This isn’t a story about resilience. This is about the part that comes first.
This is about the part right after the “Dear Alexis, We regret to inform you…”
Where disappointment sets up shop in your gut.
Where your confidence shrinks behind the shadow of “maybe I’m not as good as I thought.”
Where your brain starts doing that thing high-achievers know too well:
Looping. Analyzing. Self-blaming. Self-doubting.
This is the part where no one claps.
Where no strategy deck can save you.
Where the weight of trying so damn hard meets silence on the other side.
And I want to sit here for a moment—because not enough of us do.
The Myth of “Winners Don’t Lose”
There’s a lie baked into many leadership cultures:
If you’re exceptional, you won’t lose.
I’m sure you’ve heard or said, “Failure isn’t an option” or “Hustle in silence and let success make the noise.” My favorite? “Always give 110%.” 🙄
So when rejection arrives, it’s not just a no.
It’s a crack in your identity.
It feels like you misread the room. Like you overshot your shot. Like you were foolish to think this space was ever yours.
It can get existential real quick.
Especially for high-achieving leaders—those of us wired to deliver, exceed, perform, inspire, juggle, fix, finesse, lead! We’re told that competence protects us. That visibility will validate us. That excellence guarantees access.
But that’s not leadership.
That’s mythology. A fancy way to say, “Lies.”
Why This Myth Persists
Rejection isn’t just rare for high-achievers; it’s damn near taboo. It doesn’t fit the narrative of success we’ve been taught to embody. And when rejection or loss does happen, we don’t talk about it. We pretend it was strategic, a lesson, a redirection, and quickly move on.
But pretending skips the part that matters most:
The impact. The ache. The disorientation.
Research backs this emotional aftermath. Shepherd (2003), studying entrepreneurs after failure, found that rejection isn’t just a business outcome—it’s a personal loss, often triggering a full-blown grief process.
But here’s the part most of us forget in the moment: Edmondson (2011) reminds us that failure, when held with curiosity instead of shame, can be the fastest path to deep, sustainable learning.
Most of us? We respond by shrinking.
By second-guessing.
By silencing the parts of us that were bold enough to try.
That’s where the real loss happens.
Rejection Is a Diagnostic—Not a Disqualifier
I’m not here to reframe these rejections as blessings. I’m still too annoyed for that.
But I am here to name what I know now:
Rejection reveals things.
- What you care about.
- What you believed was ready.
- Where your identity was entangled with the outcome.
- Where your leadership still seeks external permission.
- The narratives you tell yourself, absent any evidence.
- Your risk tolerance.
- Your creative edge.
- Your resilience—not the toxic positivity kind, but the gritty, inner work of still choosing yourself after someone else doesn’t.
The wherewithal to dare to shoot another shot, even bigger this time, knowing it too may be rejected.
What the Research Shows
So how do we move from spiraling to self-inquiry?
Dahlin, Chuang, and Roulet (2018) offer a framework that’s especially useful: your ability to learn from failure depends on three things:
- Opportunity – Are you in environments where reflection is encouraged? Or just performance?
- Motivation – Do you want to understand what happened? Or are you just trying to outrun the shame or embarrassment?
- Ability – Do you have the emotional and cognitive tools to sit in discomfort without self-imploding?
The good news? All of those can be cultivated.
The bad news? Most leadership cultures don’t reward it. They reward bounce-back speed—not emotional honesty.
But I’m not in a rush.
Because this sting has something to say—and I’m listening.
The Hard Truth: Sometimes Your Best Isn’t Enough for Them
And that doesn’t mean it wasn’t your best.
It doesn’t mean it won’t be enough somewhere else.
It just means this wasn’t the place.
Not this time.
Even our messes can be powerful teaching tools. Bledow et al. (2017) found that when failure stories are shared honestly—without spin—they become some of the most effective sources of learning for other leaders.
But what about your own failure stories? The ones you don’t want to say out loud?
Those are the ones that teach you the most. If you’re willing to face them.
Because what rejection offers—when you let it—is a mirror.
- I still want to be chosen.
- I still ache when I’m not.
- And I’m still committed to submitting, showing up, and speaking up—even if it rattles me.
Reflection Isn’t Optional—It’s Leadership Infrastructure
Let’s be real: I didn’t cry over these rejections.
But I did stew. I did doubt. I did spiral.
And then, slowly, I asked better questions:
- What did I hope these wins would validate?
- Was I looking for funding—or affirmation?
- Was I pitching from a place of integrity—or overperforming for perceived credibility?
- What part of me is still afraid to sit with a “no”?
These aren’t easy questions. But they’re the ones that matter.
They’re the ones that bring you back to your voice.
Your leadership.
Your power—not because you won, but because you dared.
As Edmondson (2011) notes, learning from failure starts with psychological safety. That includes the space you give yourself to feel, reflect, and stay curious.
You’re Still a Leader—Even When You’re Wounded
I’ll get to the “their loss” phase soon enough.
But for now, I’m in the “my stuff was good, how dare they” phase.
And that’s okay.
Because this isn’t just about rejection.
It’s about what we make it mean.
You are not your wins.
You are not your losses.
You are the one who keeps showing up.
Because leadership isn’t about avoiding rejection.
It’s about not letting it erase you.
🍵 Small Sips: A Reflection Invitation
When was the last time a “no” shook you?
Not the polite kind of no.
The kind that made you rethink what you’re doing, why you’re doing it, and whether it’s even worth it?
Let that moment speak.
- What did it reveal about your leadership?
- What parts of you went silent afterward?
- And what would it take to reawaken them?
Because the next time you submit something bold—something that feels like you—and the world replies “not this time,” I hope you remember:
The rejection is not your receipt.
Your courage is.
Ready to Go Deeper?
If these reflections stirred something in you—or if you’re ready to turn rejection into clarity without the spiral—I’d love to hold that space with you in a Quick Brew: The Spark Session. Because the best shifts happen when you stop circling and start choosing—with intention.
🍵 I brew and spill tea on leadership in The Monthly BREW™.
Get yourself a cup here: https://bit.ly/4iXYTwQ
References
- Bledow, R., Carette, B., Kühnel, J., & Bister, D. (2017). Learning From Others’ Failures: The Effectiveness of Failure Stories for Managerial Learning. Academy of Management Learning & Education, 16(1), 39–53. http://www.jstor.org/stable/26400163
- Dahlin, K. B., Chuang, Y-T., & Roulet, T. J. (2018). Opportunity, Motivation, and Ability to Learn from Failures and Errors: Review, Synthesis, and Ways to Move Forward. Academy of Management Annals, 12(1), 252–277. https://doi.org/10.5465/annals.2016.0049
- Edmondson, A. C. (2011). Strategies for learning from failure. Harvard Business Review, 89(4), 48–55.
- Shepherd, D. A. (2003). Learning from business failure: Propositions of grief recovery for the self-employed. Academy of Management Review, 28(2), 318–328.