Things don’t always work out the way you had planned or hoped. It’s the unfortunate truth of life. I especially hate that email line: thank you for your application, however, we regret to inform you…

They definitely don’t feel as much regret as the applicant, whom they seldom mention by name in their cookie-cut, preset, computer-generated rejection template.

At first it was just annoying but now it’s extremely frustrating. Every time that email comes, for a job or a scholarship or a grant, it chips away at my esteem and belittles my confidence. Why do I even bother applying anymore?

Then there are those opportunities that are only applicable to people who’ve already received an award. Or opportunities that are only for specific  (extremely specific) topics. How does that even make sense? There are so many researchers, so many projects that are in their infant stages, so many new ideas that need funding for further investigation. Seriously, the current system of applications is superbly stringent and, in my opinion, lacks innovation.

But then again, maybe I’m just bad at writing applications. Maybe I’m unable to articulate the purpose of my research and the future applicability of my research into comprehensible sentences. Maybe my ability to put my vision and excitement onto paper is severely lacking.

The amount of time spent on preparing each of those applications is time stolen from the mere 24 hours that are given each day. I could have used that application time to crochet or knit, read the books on my list, spend quality time with my family, fix up some bikes, learn sign language, learn the violin, or anything really would have been time invested. Now it’s all time wasted. Uggh.

It’s really difficult to bear the weight of rejection. It is heavy and thorny. The heart sinks like a rock and memories of the time wasted pierce the mind. Expectations for the future are shattered. All this in a matter of seconds. The feelings may be strongest at the time of rejection, but they linger on for as long as you let them.

I just want to throw my hands up and say, I’m done. But these rejections strength my conviction that I am meant to carve a path out for myself. Whenever I tell my friends about my unsuccessful applications, they remind me that J.K. Rowling got rejected several times for the Harry Potter script. It helps, sometimes.

I can do it on own. I will do it on my own. This is not the time to give up or let the rejections pierce my hide. My hide is stronger than these rejections. My time is worth more than these rejections. I am worth more than these rejections.