I tentatively hit the “follow” button on Twitter. I had warred with myself for awhile.
Do I? Do I not? Will he think I’m being too forward? Will he follow me back? What if he doesn’t?
I closed out of my app and let it be. Hours later I checked again and saw some tweets from him. Obviously I checked his profile… hmm.. he was following new people. But not me.
My heart sank like a thousand pound weight. It was amazing how this tiny little piece of social media could make me feel rejected a million times over. Because truthfully, I care way too much if he adds me on Facebook, follows me on Twitter, and likes my Instagram post.
she won’t falter easy, she’ll be careful, she’ll be coy
but still she paints her heart among the musings of a boy
Immediately I wanted to unfollow his Twitter feed. I felt like such a fool. A fool for hoping he’d follow me back, a fool for being interested, a fool for putting myself out there. Have you ever seen the movie He’s Just Not That Into You? There’s a scene in the movie where Drew Barrymore’s character names all of the ways you can get rejected by someone -instant messenger, text, voicemail, email, etc. She dejectedly rushes through her confusion on appropriate protocol for dates.
And now we get to add Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Vine, and blogging to that list. I mean, how’s a girl supposed to know what to do?
Obviously I’m a way over-analyzer and it carries into my behavior with social media. So naturally I was trying to understand why I was feeling intense rejection from this lack of interaction. It’s because I’ve started to link my self worth to what happens on my social media streams. And if you’re really honest with yourself, haven’t you had those moments too? No? Just me? Oh, okay.
I’m literally wincing right now. When I acknowledge this fact it feels really stupid. Logically my heart knows my self worth is found in Christ. My identity is one who is a loved disciple of Jesus. That is my core identity. But between my core identity and what happens with my reactions there is a gaping disconnect.
I sometimes get lost between who I know myself to be and who I allow myself to be. And this is never more evident than when I feel the sting of rejection. I want to care less, feel less, let it roll off my back and away from my heart. But it just doesn’t.
So instead, how I find myself growing is not by feeling less but by dwelling less. I no longer take this insignificant moment and turn it into a wound. I refuse to let myself collect rejections and paint a picture of who I am out of them. That is the old me. The old me who is no longer allowed a seat at the table.
And my hope and prayer is that by dwelling less, risking more, continuing to show up, and embracing my true identity that someday I will be the best version of myself… of Christ in me.
if you find her, tell her that I love her
if she hears you – ask her heart to come