The First No: The Opinion That Didn’t Define Me

By: Astrid Sarmiento a.k.a Lil Poetrid

Have you ever been told you are not good enough?

They say that if you want to be in the creative industry, you will go through your share of criticism, rejection, and hardship.

For most of my educational years, writing was the thing I was good at. Teachers, professors, colleagues, friends, family, and even strangers have told me so.

Writing has always come naturally to me, and for a long time, I never really questioned whether I belonged in that space.

Then one day, a design professor back in college told me I wasn’t a good enough writer. I remember finding it almost comical.

Just a few semesters earlier, I had been praised for my writing in other courses, including English, Psychology, Web Design, Art History, and Communication Design, to name a few. I had even had professors encourage me to consider making writing my second major.

So hearing that criticism felt strange. Not devastating, just strange.

It was probably the first real “no” I had ever received about something I had spent most of my life being told I was good at.

I never took it to heart. I listened and considered the critique, but I also understood that one person’s opinion did not suddenly erase every piece of evidence that came before it.

Years later, I still think about that moment, and I still find it funny, especially now that I am a published writer.

What made it even more interesting was learning later that the professor had been let go after developing a reputation for being unnecessarily harsh with students.

It reminded me of something I think we often forget: not every person giving criticism is automatically right.

Sometimes criticism is useful, and it helps us grow. Other times, it is simply someone else’s perspective, personality, or frustration being placed onto us.

The real skill is learning the difference. I’ve learned that some people critique from a place of genuine insight, while others critique from a wounded ego. There’s a saying that jealousy and envy are sometimes admiration in disguise. Maybe there is some truth to that.

Sometimes people see something in you that reminds them of what they wanted for themselves, what they gave up on, or what they have yet to become. And instead of allowing it to inspire them, they choose to diminish it, as if another person’s success somehow takes away from their own ability to create something meaningful with the time they have.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve also started noticing something else. People have a strange way of defining success by titles, degrees, job positions, status, or the company attached to someone’s name.

Yet a title does not always tell you who is talented. It does not tell you who kept going after being rejected, who had to rebuild, or who was underestimated while quietly working on their craft when no one else was paying attention.

We may not all have the same circumstances, resources, or responsibilities, but we are all given days to do something with.

Someone else’s progress does not have to become a reason for envy. It can become evidence of possibility.

In life, people are often celebrated long after someone once told them they were not good enough, and maybe that is why I have always admired stories like those. Take for instance, Michael Jordan, Walt Disney, Vincent van Gogh, and countless others whose talent, ideas, or potential were once overlooked, questioned, or dismissed before the world came to recognize what they had to offer.

I want people to keep in mind that rejection is not always a verdict. Sometimes, it is simply one person’s opinion in the middle of a much bigger story.

Years later, I am still writing, and I think that says more than that one “no” ever could.