When something I want gets a no, my first story is usually about me. I was too slow. I asked badly. I am behind. That story shows up fast, before I know much at all.
There is a plain idea in Green Lights that has stayed with me. A red light means stop. And sometimes a red light later becomes a green one. I will not dress that up. I do not get a tidy reason on a plate. I only notice that a delay, or a closed door, does not always mean what it felt like on the day.
I do not decide the whole story that night
I have had plans slip. A yes I thought was coming turned into not now. I wanted to sort it the same evening. I went over what I said. I looked for the mistake. Some of those nos still do not make sense to me. A few of them, months later, I am glad I did not force them. I still cannot draw a straight line from the no to something better. The panic in the first week was real, but it was not the whole truth. It was just the first feeling.
I try not to make a speech out of that. A hard time is still hard while you are in it. Telling yourself “this will make sense later” can be another kind of pressure if you say it too early. On the day of the no, I do not need a moral. I need to be honest. This stings. I do not know yet. I will not write my whole story tonight.
Being harsh with myself after a setback does not make the next step clearer. I wrote about that in self-compassion without complacency. What works for me may not work for you. A closed door is information. It is not always a final word on who I am.
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