Sensory Soul

You know that sudden, stomach-dropping dread when someone says, “Hey, can we talk?” and your brain immediately flashes to every mistake you’ve ever made from that awkward thing you said at a party in 2009 to not replying to a text within 3.7 minutes?

That, dear reader, might be Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria.

RSD, for those unfamiliar, is basically the emotional equivalent of living with your feelings wired directly into a high-sensitivity smoke detector. It’s not currently an official diagnosis, but if you’ve ever spiralled into self-loathing because someone might be mad at you (or worse, disappointed), then you know it’s as real as the anxious pit in your stomach.

And if you’re neurodivergent, especially if you have ADHD or autism, you might be more familiar with RSD than you’d like to admit.

What Is RSD? (Besides Annoying)

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is a fancy term for a very un-fancy experience: extreme emotional sensitivity to perceived or actual rejection, criticism, or failure. Emphasis on perceived. You don’t need to be actually rejected for the dysphoria part to kick in. All it takes is a raised eyebrow, a vaguely worded email, or someone taking a little too long to laugh at your joke.

For me, it feels like this:

Someone says, “Hmm, I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” and my brain translates it to, “You are a fundamentally flawed human being and everyone you’ve ever loved regrets knowing you.”

Helpful, right?

RSD tends to show up loud and uninvited in people with ADHD, and sometimes in autistic folks too. It’s not just sensitivity, it’s an overwhelming, sometimes physically painful reaction that can lead to shame, withdrawal, people-pleasing, or a well rehearsed internal monologue about how you’re probably the worst.

Real Life with RSD: A Theatrical Production

Let’s talk about how this plays out in real life. Say I text a friend and they don’t respond within a few hours. My rational brain knows they’re probably just busy. My RSD brain? It’s already planning the eulogy for our friendship.

Even tiny moments… tone of voice, lack of exclamation marks, or a short “k” in a message can feel like rejection. My brain fills in all the blanks with worst-case scenarios, because apparently, it moonlights as a dramatic novelist.

The Aftermath: Overthinking, Masking, and Avoidance

One of the worst parts of RSD is the way it sticks around. It’s not just the initial pang of hurt, it’s the hours (or days) of self-criticism, overanalyzing, and rewinding conversations like I’m watching my own personal horror movie on repeat.

Sometimes, to avoid the pain of potential rejection, I’ll pre-reject myself. “They probably don’t want to hang out.” “I shouldn’t apply for that job, they’ll just say no.” This lovely little habit is called self-sabotage, and wow, am I good at it.

Other times, I go full chameleon, people-pleasing, masking, over-apologizing. I try so hard to avoid rejection that I end up rejecting myself.

It’s exhausting.

Coping (Without Moving to the Wilderness)

Let’s get real: RSD isn’t something you just “get over.” But there are ways to cope that don’t involve faking your own disappearance.

Here are a few that have helped me:

Naming it. Just saying “Oh, hey, this is my RSD reacting” can slow down the spiral. It puts a little emotional distance between me and the drama in my head. Prepping myself for feedback. I remind myself that feedback is information, not a moral judgment. (I mean, I try. Sometimes I cry anyway.) Checking the facts. Did they actually say something hurtful? Talking to safe people. Sometimes, I just need to say, “Hey, I’m having a moment. Can you remind me I’m not a terrible person?” Humour. Honestly, laughing at how extra my inner drama queen can be has saved me more than once. If I’m going to spiral, I might as well make it a musical.

If You Feel This Too—You’re Not Alone

If any of this sounds painfully familiar, I want you to know: you’re not broken. You’re not “too sensitive.” You just have a nervous system that’s a bit… enthusiastic. And while it can be a real pain, it also means you probably feel love, creativity, and empathy just as intensely.

You’re not weak for being affected. You’re strong for showing up anyway.

And if someone ever tells you that you’re “overreacting,” just remember: they don’t know the epic inner monologue you’re working with.