Episode 46 | The Ones Who Turned Away And What We Learn From Their Silence

We open our hearts to the quiet kind of rejection—when people turn away without words—and trace how it shapes belonging, faith, and self-worth. We offer a plus one step forward: send love, set boundaries, and find closure within, guided by a love that never ghosts.

• the sound and shape of quiet rejection
• childhood roots of feeling unseen
• marriage loss and the rupture of belonging
• family silence and capacity versus need
• ghosting culture, avoidance, and its cost
• reframing rejection as misalignment
• self-given closure and soft boundaries
• faith as anchor and unghosting love
• choosing love over bitterness and finishing stronger

If this message spoke to you, to your heart, share it with someone who's struggling with silence

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Chapters

• 0:00 Welcome And A Different Tone
• 0:39 Naming The Quiet Rejection
• 1:21 A Father’s Silence And Early Roots
• 2:08 Marriage, The Bus, And Belonging
• 3:03 Family Distance And Brother’s Quiet
• 4:04 Slow Fades And Ghosting Culture
• 5:16 The Plus One: Forward With Love
• 6:31 Faith, Worth, And Unfailing Love
• 7:57 Gratitude, Strength, And Closing

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:10

Hey friends, it's Pam Dwyer, and welcome back to the Plus One Theory Podcast. I am actually recording this from my hotel room, but I really didn't want to miss this Sunday's episode because every once in a while I like to step away from the humor, from the metaphors, and from the easy lessons and share something straight from my heart. This is one of those episodes. Today's story is called The Ones Who Turned Away. It's about rejection. The quiet kind. The kind that doesn't announce itself with anger or final words. Just silence. If you've ever felt ignored, unseen, or left behind without explanation, this episode is for you. So rejection has a sound. It's not the slam of a door or the sting of a harsh word. It's quieter, like a breath drawn in but never released. I learned that sound early. My father's love was something I studied from a distance. He adored my sister. He laughed with her, celebrated with her. I watched quietly, hoping he'd see me too, but he never did. He noticed me every now and then, but not like he did my sister. He knew how to love, so I couldn't say he just loved me the best way he knew how. Because I watched him give her his love. It's just that he didn't choose me. That silence grew roots. I carried it into my relationships, friendships, and even my faith, always trying to earn love that should have been freely given. And when I was fifteen, I met a boy who became my world. We grew up, got married, had a baby, and built a life. Then one day he put me and our baby on a bus and said he didn't want me anymore. I can still hear the bus humming under my feet, the sound of my sweet baby boy's soft breathing, and the silence of a man who had already moved on. That kind of rejection doesn't just wound your heart, it breaks your sense of belonging. You start to think love is something you must chase, something you must prove yourself worthy of. But listen, rejection isn't proof of unworthiness, it's often evidence of misalignment. You know, years later it happened again. My brother, the one who could make me laugh until I cried, stopped answering my calls. No argument, no reason, just quiet. I mean, we had disagreements and I might have done some things that upset him. But I noticed that he wasn't returning my calls or any of that. He but he still would talk to everyone else, just not to me. And that silence cut deeper than any words ever could, because rejection, wrapped in family ties, hits differently. It tells your heart that even your bloodline can forget you. For a long time I tried to understand it, but eventually I learned people love the way they're capable of, not always the way we need them to. You know, it's not just family. Rejection happens in friendships, businesses, ministry, even with people we thought truly cared about you. Sometimes it's not loud, it's not dramatic, it's just a slow fade. They stop returning your calls, they stop replying to your emails, and one day you realize you're the only one reaching. I've even sent those honest messages, the kind that takes humility to write, saying, I'm not sure what happened, but if I said or did something, please tell me. It would help me grow and understand for future relationships. And still, nothing. That silence, it's deafening. And here's the truth. We live in a ghosting culture. According to a 2023 Psychology Today article, nearly 80% of adults say they've been ghosted by someone they cared about, not romantically, but in friendships or professional circles. And about sixty percent admit they've ghosted someone else. Why? Because avoiding discomfort has become easier than facing emotion. Ghosting gives the illusion of control. It says, if I don't respond, I don't have to explain. But what it really creates is confusion and pain, hurt feelings for both sides. That type of silence leaves you questioning your worth, your likability, even your sanity. You think, wow, they didn't love me like I thought they did. How can someone just walk away if they truly cared? And if you've ever thought that, you are not alone. Rejection from those we trusted doesn't just bruise, it unravels our sense of safety. And here's the healing truth their silence is not your sentence. Their decision to step back doesn't diminish your value. You see, when people turn away in family, friendships, or work, the plus one moment is this. You take one step forward any way. You send love instead of resentment, you choose understanding instead of bitterness, and you learn that closure is something you can give yourself. And maybe that's your plus one today to shift the question from why did they leave me to what is God making space for? Because sometimes rejection is protection. And sometimes the unanswered email is a redirection. Sometimes the silence is God saying, You don't need their approval to fulfill your purpose. Here's what anchors me. God's love doesn't ghost you. He doesn't stop answering your prayers because you missed a call. He doesn't withdraw affection because you disappointed him. Even when we turn away, he never does. His love is the ultimate example. Unconditional, unwavering, and unearned. When I remember that, I realize that I've never really been rejected. I've been chosen all along. And maybe that's where we end today. With peace, not pain, with gratitude for the lessons rejection has taught and the compassion it's built in us. Because even when others turn away love, true love remains. Thanks for spending this time with me today. If this message spoke to you, to your heart, share it with someone who's struggling with silence. And remember, your past does not define you, it prepares you. And when people walk away, you can still finish stronger by choosing love over bitterness. Until next time, friends, take the pause and take one more step. Thanks for listening.