Writing is good life practice.
You work really, really hard on something, put your heart on the page, and get rejected. You think you have an original idea and find out not only are there 20 others with the same idea, but they're more qualified to carry out the vision. Or you get really attached and excited about an idea of the next week/month/year and find out that so-and-so doesn't want to partner with you or thinks your work is meh or can't see you as a good fit.
Again and again and again.
Love, friendship, school, and my career thus far have all flowed into my life joyously. It sounds corny but I can't think of any other way to describe it. I've wanted something, worked hard for it, and boom, it's happened. There have been plenty of bumps along the way, but what's right for me has always prevailed and not much rejection has stumped me. When I've followed my intuition, the path has been one of ease.
And now I'm writing. Which means now I'm facing rejection. Lots of it. It comes with the job, and I'm learning to love it. I'm getting shut down time after time and I need to find the strength and will within myself to want to keep going. It's a call to resilience louder than running an ultra-marathon or finishing a rock climb. It's a way less comfortable resilience for me to lean into and know that I have deep down. It's forcing me to build a loving shield around myself and be more neutral and unaffected by my surroundings.
In other words, writing is giving me thick skin, and I feel good in this new skin.
Bring it on. I can take it.