Embracing Rejection: A Journey of Self-Discovery and Healing

This weekend's therapy session was a tough one. I found myself delving into the depths of how my siblings' weddings deeply impacted me. It's a realization I've been avoiding for some time, but finally letting it out felt like lifting a weight off my chest.

Rejection—it's been a constant theme in my life. It began even before I was born, nestled in my mother's womb, where I experienced the initial sting of being unwanted. My parents were young when they conceived me, and despite my father's certainty, they faced rejection from my paternal grandparents. It seemed that our family wasn't up to the standards of the Serra lineage, a fact my grandmother never hesitated to remind my mother of.

What's ironic is the familial ties that bind us. My maternal grandparents and Mami Maura, as we called her, shared blood, yet that connection did little to bridge the gap in social stature. Despite some assistance, my parents were always looked down upon. But my mother's courage shone through when she made the decision to leave Honduras, proving she didn't need my father's family or their wealth to make it in life.

Reflecting on these familial dynamics, I can't help but wonder if Mami Maura envied my mother's bravery. My grandmother's pregnancy with my aunt Monica, conceived out of love, stood as a testament to her defiance against societal expectations. Yet, the truth of Monica's biological father remained buried beneath layers of lies and denial, a truth I inadvertently unearthed during a tense family lunch.

It was a moment of reckoning, one that led to my expulsion from the family home—the home that supposedly only belonged to the Serra lineage. But rejection, in all its forms, has only fueled my determination to confront generational trauma and cut the cords that bind me.

Rejection hasn't just colored my family life; it's seeped into my romantic relationships as well. I've often questioned if my choices in partners were influenced by the baggage I carry. It's a painful realization that if I can't love and choose myself, how can I expect someone else to?

Watching my siblings walk down the aisle stirred up bitterness within me—not because I long for a wedding of my own, but because it highlighted the rejection I've faced in matters of the heart. Yet, through it all, I've come to realize that my worth isn't defined by societal expectations or relationship status.

My journey isn't about fitting into a white dress; it's about becoming a healthier, more authentic version of myself. I'm grateful for the rejection I've experienced because without it, I wouldn't be evolving into the person I am today.

So here's to embracing rejection—not as a setback, but as a catalyst for growth and self-discovery. It's a journey fraught with challenges, but one that ultimately leads to liberation and self-love. And for that, I'm endlessly grateful.