In love with pain

Rejection number 174 just landed in my inbox.

It came from the Centre for Economic Development, Transport and the Environment in Finland, which declined to fund my nonprofit's student work training program. Again.

Instead of feeling crushed, I felt a bolt of adrenaline. Sounds strange? Well, if you grew up in a world where peace and predictability were scarce, there’s a good chance you know exactly what I’m talking about. Chaos can become comforting. Rejection can light a fire under you. And the more people say “no,” the more motivated you are to prove them wrong.

I’ve been collecting rejections for a while. Some of them are from big-name organizations, some are from little local grants, and others are from potential partners who don’t see eye-to-eye with what I’m doing.

By now, I could wallpaper my office with these letters. But I’m not interested in hiding or stuffing them in a drawer. They’re my trophies. Each rejection is a reminder that I’m out there trying something new. For every “no,” I’ve gained a better understanding of how different funding providers tick, what they care about, and what flavor of risk they’re willing to stomach.

There’s a reason I thrive on rejection, and it has a lot to do with my childhood.

Some people grew up in stable homes with a steady routine, where every day felt safe and predictable. Mine wasn’t like that. Eventually, uncertainty stopped feeling like a threat and started feeling like home. A calm environment? That felt downright weird. It still does. Whenever I’m sitting in a situation that’s too cozy, or too stable, I start to itch for something more challenging.

I’ve met other founders who share this trait. They’ve lived through their parents’ divorce, escaped war-torn regions, or navigated serious hardships growing up. Instead of letting that trauma negatively define them, they flipped it into an advantage. When the ground shakes, they’re used to it. They keep their eyes on the prize. Feeling out of control doesn’t scare them because they’ve lived through far worse. It’s not some conscious choice to go out and court trouble, but they’re unafraid of the tension that comes with building something from scratch.

Building anything from the ground up, whether it’s a startup, a nonprofit, or a social movement, requires an appetite for rejection and failure. You’re going to get turned away more often than you’re welcomed in. That’s just the nature of growth. If you’re comfortable in that chaos, you’ll handle the stress more smoothly than someone who has never had a door slammed in their face. You’ll view each rejection as data: a signpost, not a dead end. Maybe your pitch needs a tweak. Maybe you need to show a stronger track record. Maybe you’re just talking to the wrong people. But you’ll keep going, with each “no” pushing you to refine your vision.

Some folks wonder how to cultivate that type of resilience if they haven’t been baptized in chaos.

The short answer is that you can’t fake your trauma, and you shouldn’t want to. But you can train your brain to tolerate discomfort. One method is to deliberately place yourself in challenging situations. For instance, applying for opportunities you think you have no chance of winning. Or consistently reaching out to people who intimidate you. The more you see that the world doesn’t collapse when you face rejection, the more your mindset shifts. Angela Duckworth calls this “grit,” which she describes as “perseverance and passion for long-term goals." Grit is fueled by resilience, and resilience is often born from adversity.

Another tool is reframing. Each time a funding provider, partner, or client says “no,” remind yourself that you’re testing limits. Plenty of people never get rejected because they never put themselves out there in a meaningful way. If every door you knock on opens wide, chances are you’re not aiming high enough. You’re staying safely in your comfort zone, never pushing beyond the boundaries of what’s expected or normal. That might be good for your ego in the short run, but it won’t get you anywhere groundbreaking.

When I submitted the funding application for my nonprofit’s student work training program, I knew I might get the standard “thank you for your interest, but…” response. That’s just part of the game. The difference is, I also knew that a refusal would light a spark. It would push me to rethink the program’s framework, gather stronger testimonials, and maybe hire someone who can help polish up the application language. It would force me to clarify my mission even more. Then, I’d submit another round of proposals, maybe to the same place and definitely to many others.

That’s the cycle of progress: propose, get rejected, iterate, try again.

People sometimes ask me if it ever gets tiring. Sure, it can be exhausting. On bad days, I think, “Wouldn’t it be nice if things were easy, just once?” But then I remember I don’t want “easy.” Easy gets boring fast. The reason I’m in this arena of startups and a nonprofit is that I believe in chasing that mission against the odds. If you have a project worth fighting for, it’s not going to be a stroll in the park. It’s going to be uphill, in the mud, with people yelling that you’re going the wrong way. And if you come from a tough background, you’re already trained for that. You’re battle-ready.

Rejection is a personal motivator and an indicator that I’m onto something new or challenging. If every program I pitched got approved, I’d be suspicious that I wasn’t pushing the boundaries enough. The sweet spot is the tension between possibility and impossibility, between acceptance and denial. In that zone, real change can happen because you’re not just replicating what everyone else has done. You’re testing unknown waters. And let’s face it: anyone who has grown up dealing with unstable environments or personal upheavals understands that the unknown is rarely as scary as people think.

That’s a hidden advantage I like to talk with underrepresented founders who can often relate to this. When you’ve lived in continuous uncertainty, you develop a weird sense of calm in the face of chaos. This is what a lot of top founders and entrepreneurs have in common: they don’t get rattled by major shifts in the market or sudden changes in direction. They treat them as part of the landscape. Odds are they’ve seen far more frightening things in their own homes or hometowns. They’re not going to lose their nerve over a lost contract or a tough quarter.

So, Herizon is 174 rejections down and probably another thousand on the way. Let them come.

Each one will sharpen my resolve, add new layers to my approach, and fine-tune the message. Every “no” is a step closer to a “yes,” but even better, it’s a spark that reminds me why I’m in this fight in the first place. I’m doing this to provide meaningful opportunities for international talents, to build something that doesn’t just exist for me but also helps the next generation. The public sector might say it’s too risky, too new, too unproven. That’s fine. One day, they’ll see the results, and by then, I’ll have re-applied so many times they’ll think I’m unstoppable. And maybe I am, in my head. Once you’ve grown up in constant chaos, you’re either going to break or become unbreakable.

There are plenty of ways to measure success: revenue, number of users, media coverage, you name it. I measure it by how many rejections I can handle before I decide to pivot or move on. I know that in building a startup or a nonprofit, especially one with a lofty mission, you’re going to face skepticism. And that skepticism is a gift. It forces you to ask the hard questions and craft better answers. It weeds out the founders who want a quick win from those who are in it for the long haul.

Next on my TODOs, I’ll refine my pitch deck, collect more success stories, and maybe get a few more rejections to add to my trophy wall. It’s all part of the process.

If you’re reading this, feeling that tug of excitement about the next rejection letter coming your way, that probably means you’ve got the same bug. You crave the thrill of the underdog fight. Let it drive, not discourage you. It means you might have an edge you haven’t fully appreciated yet. Don’t ignore it or hide it. You should harness it and use it to bounce back faster than anyone expects. That’s how you turn trauma into triumph and rejection into fuel. Because in the end, it’s not about how many times you’re turned down - it’s about how many times you stand back up, ready for more.