Have you ever had one of those word vomiting, all telling, and hyper emotional conversations with someone who only knows you at a surface level?
Maybe you know exactly` what I’m talking about and you’re already cringing. In a moment of weakness, some well-meaning person asked you this very simple question (a question you have legitimately rehearsed the answer to a multitude of times): “How are you doing?”
Yup. *Insert deep breath here…
You messed up, bruh. Instead of the socially acceptable response of I’m fine, you proceeded to spew a myriad of unhelpful facts about your life, a reader’s digest version of your trauma, or the gruesome reality of what is actively making you a little looney.
When you see this well-meaning person staring, wide-eyed, and stunned into silence, you suddenly realize you have been excessively oversharing. Now, all you desire to do is to slink back underneath whichever rock from whence you came. One awkward glance, or forced nervous laugh, and I’m already analyzing whether or not I have just made a terrible mistake.
Just me? Weird.
My adult ADHD diagnosis has given me quite the new understanding of almost every social interaction I’ve ever had. What I mean to say is that, before this diagnosis, a social encounter as described above would have been the stuff that kept me up until 2:00 in the morning, contemplating my life choices. Now, while these types of conversations are still not ideal, I can view them through more informed lenses and with a deeper understanding of “rejection sensitivity.” I can sift through the fact and fiction of my own emotional response to a person’s intended or unintended sense of rejection.
Rejection sensitivity dysphoria (RSD) is an extreme emotional reaction, or a feeling of pain, in response to perceived or real rejection, criticism, or expressed disappointment.
If you’ve read this far, and you’re thinking “Wait…I thought ADHD looked a lot like a caffeinated, elementary school boy who runs with scissors…?”
I would share that ADHD has more to do with executive disfunction (the ability to problem solve), a deficit of dopamine (the chemical that makes your brain happy), emotional dysregulation (yay…mood swings), and a plethora of wacky side effects and behaviors from broken neurotransmitters.
Ultimately, having ADHD just means that I process information differently, solve problems creatively, and I have a few extra steps involved in order to hack my brain into “motivation” mode. It’s also a super power. I mean, my job is to turn coffee into books. I can hyperfocus on the things that bring me joy. For me, Bible study is a full contact sport and writing curriculum feels like *snaps fingers “End Game.” I am Iron Man.
After getting hit square in the forehead with a little bit of rejection sensitivity, I can offer myself better solutions. Instead of questioning whether or not I’m a weirdo beyond repair or if I should legit research and replicate the habits of migrating turtles, I know I’m just suffering from a slight lack of dopamine and something with a high-carb count or a smidge of sugar might just be the thing to snap me out of my spiral.
So, for now, instead of barreling down the “Why does everyone hate me?” rabbit hole, I’ll grab a snack. And, perhaps, watch a documentary on the migration patterns of turtles.
