A Blog Article Written by a Client “Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria”

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria

“I should be making myself worthy,” Nutt said, pulling away gently and not meeting her eyes.  “I must be becoming.  I must not lie.  I must gain worth.  Thank you for your kindness”.

Unseen Academicals – Sir Terry Pratchett (GNU)

It is a special kind of torment, to be convinced, deep down, that you aren’t worth much.  That you are not deserving of love, or kindness, or respect.  That you have not earned the right to understanding when you make mistakes or go through hard times.  For many of us with neurodivergent conditions, particularly those of us who were diagnosed late, this belief has dug in so deep that it has become a chasm.  An endless void that pulls at your thoughts and, on bad days, starts to reel you in.  An insidious whispering voice encourages you to just accept it and go into free fall, stop trying and let the void envelop you.  At least for a time.

Thanks to ADHD medication, I have an idea what it is like not to have that voice.  To be content to just be in the moment, and to not worry that anything I do or say may lead to rejection (while being simultaneously completely unable to stop myself blurting out every inane thought that passes through my head).  But at times of high stress or, thanks to the quirks of my gender, hormonal fluctuation, it’s still there waiting to slither into my thoughts and ruin my day.

As I understand it, the current thinking is that Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) is formed through a combination of genetic predisposition and external experiences, and I think from my own experience that this is probably fair.  I have always been a sensitive soul – which sounds very poetic and wonderful, but it leads to things like being unable to hear a heated argument without involving yourself and desperately trying to make it stop and make everybody happy again.  This rarely works and often it makes things worse, but that compulsion to fix everything for everybody never really goes away.

I have also always had a tendency towards being overly trusting; so desperate to form relationships with others that as I child I would tend to let people who stated they were my friends treat me poorly and then defend them to the hilt when people pointed it out to me.  This was a theme at just about every parent’s night, much to my mother’s dismay because, of course, there was no support to come with such observations in those days – the teachers’ obligation was complete when they had highlighted that they thought I was going to come to a bad end one day over it.   I suspect that the relatively constant social rejection, or soul crushing realisation that I had, in fact, been a source of amusement or mockery for people I thought cared for me yet again, has probably kept that whispering voice well fed.  I am an easy person to mock or get amusement from.  Even now I tend to say naïve or silly things before thinking them through, and people don’t like to let you forget when you do.

Rejection sensitivity colours your experience of life.  It makes those that care for you frustrated and burnt out because they are unsure if they are going to have to reassure you for the millionth time that you are not, in fact, a burden.  Or that they didn’t mean for you to feel badly over something they said that, from their perspective, was fairly innocuous.  And it makes you feel terrible because you know the impact that you have on people when that part of your brain takes over.  You’re very aware of the fact that your brain is distorting reality when it translates what is happening or has happened, but it doesn’t make it feel less real in the moment.  It creates a vicious cycle that affects everybody.

For those of us fortunate enough to forge any kind of career (and statistically the odds are not in our favour on that one), the workplace is fraught with peril.  A simple;

“Can we have a chat later?”

Can cause a spiral of anxiety and the instinctive and immediate response is to try and work out if this is code for you being about to lose your job because everybody is now sick of dealing with you.  And that’s not touching on the fact that people rarely schedule in specific times for such things, which for an autistic brain that thrives on facts and routine, is stressful in and of itself.  Later could mean any number of things.  In my experience sometimes the ‘chat’ doesn’t materialise at all, which is extremely confusing.

It is particularly difficult when you have a brain that thrives on pattern recognition, but that isn’t very good at social.  When there is a pattern of people taking a dislike without you realising it (until it has become extremely overt), every little change in someone’s demeanour becomes cause for worry.  When somebody you have got to a stage of smiling and waving hello to, or having conversations with, fails to acknowledge you when they walk past, the conclusion your brain jumps to is that the fault lies with you.  Logically, you know that the likelihood is that the other person is just having a bad day, or is busy, or has failed to spot you, or just doesn’t hold the same high value as you do to what are, for most people, fairly basic and expected interactions.  But when the belief in your own unworthiness is so deeply ingrained, it’s very difficult to make yourself believe it and stop worrying.

In my life, this leads to me making myself small around people I think highly of, because if I have done something to upset them, the last thing I want to do is annoy them further or cause them discomfort by forcing my company on them for any length of time.  The impact of this is (drumroll please…) the relationship breaks down and what was a good work relationship becomes strained and uncomfortable (at least for me).  It leaves me uncertain and off balance, and a bit sad.

Because we can never be quite sure where we stand socially, the knock-on effect for many of us is that we then try desperately to create worth by working hard, or helping others, or sharing useful information that we happen to have stored up, or throwing all the empathy and understanding that we wish we could have for ourselves towards other people who seem to be struggling too.  The problem with doing things this way, is that it will never compensate for the social difficulty and therefore will never quite feel like enough.  It also means that when things are impacting on executive functioning and you find yourself unable to work as hard, or push as far, or help as much, it feels as though you have lost worth.  You have failed.  It means that when the inevitable comments about you struggling at work come, you take it as a judgement on your value and a sign that you are about to have to find something new and start all over again.  I suspect this leads to us putting up less of a fight to prove that we are still valuable and giving up too soon.  A bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy if you will.

I’m not sure if this is something that will ever fully go away for me.  In the main I find it easier to deal with these days, but that is not the same as being free of it.  Sometimes, I suspect, success is about learning to live with the monsters we create in our heads rather than trying to slay them.  You won’t cure a fear of spiders by insisting the world is rid of them.  When our fears are of things we cannot control, then trying to do so often just makes things feel worse and maybe the answer is just learning to ride the wave.

I think that has to start with extending that empathy and compassion for others to yourself.  I exist therefore I am worthy.  And so are you, even when you don’t feel like it.  I promise.

By C W