I had a big ole fat realization the other day. And it’s making me look at everything with different eyes, through a different lens, in a new light.

Firstly, I’ve been coming to terms with the fact that I am a neurodivergent sweetie for the last few years. Definitely have ADHD, most likely on the autism spectrum, etc. But something I’ve only recently begun to accept about myself and examine is the fact that I have RSD. What is RSD, you ask? Let me tell you what I know.

RSD is Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Common in people with ADHD, it is not a specific medical diagnosis but rather a way to describe and categorize some of the symptoms we have. These include:

• Being easily embarrassed
• Get very angry or having an emotional outburst when they feel like someone has hurt or rejected them
• Setting high standards for themselves they often can’t meet
• Having low self-esteem
• Feeling anxious, especially in social settings
• Having problems with relationships
• Staying away from social situations and withdraw from other people
• Feeling like a failure because they haven’t lived up to other people’s expectations
• Sometimes thinking about hurting themselves

According the Lord of the internet, Web MD:

“People who have RSD don’t handle rejection well. They get very upset if they think someone has shunned or criticized them, even if that’s not the case. Up to 99% of teens and adults with ADHD are more sensitive than usual to rejection. And nearly 1 in 3 say it’s the hardest part of living with ADHD. People who have the condition sometimes work hard to make everyone like and admire them. Or they might stop trying and stay out of any situation where they might get hurt. This social withdrawal can look like social phobia, which is a serious fear of being embarrassed in public.”

As a person who has been told their ENTIRE life that they are overly sensitive and wear their heart on their sleeve, I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to correct this in myself. I’ve tried to develop a “thicker skin”. I’ve tried to mask how I really feel so no one will see the “heart on my sleeve”. I’ve tried learning what people expect of me and then projecting that image so they will accept me and not see what’s going on under the surface. I’ve never liked being sensitive. It was one of the most common insults I endured as a child especially from my own family who constantly told me I needed to learn how to take a joke. Even after learning that RSD was a thing people had, I tried to deny I had it. I didn’t want to be that weak person. I wanted to be strong.

But over the last few months I’ve begun accepting that I do, in fact, have RSD and it does massively affect my life. When I say it took guts to admit this, you would probably have to have RSD to understand.

Now that I’m working the night shift at the hotel, I spend a lot of time *alone* with my *thoughts*. LOL. Yes, I listen to music and audiobooks while I work but that doesn’t stop my brain from interrupting the music or book with its own commentary on just about anything at all. So the other night it just sort of hit me like a ton of bricks that Nick leaving the way that he did triggered a massive RSD episode in me that may or may not have been just ongoing for the last year.

That thought sent me down a huge rabbit hole that I’ll keep to myself, thank you.

But today I was really examining it all again and realizing that I mythologize other people. I am a classic “they are good, I am bad” kinda gal and I just go around assuming that if someone rejects me it is because something is wrong with me. *Thanks RSD.* If I like you, love you, admire you in any way, then I will put you up on that pedestal so freaking fast. Even if I see your faults and issues, I just KNOW you are better and more wonderful and smarter and more beautiful and the most absolutest bestest person and so much just BETTER than I am. And I *KNOW* if you reject me in any way, it is because of something I did. You are greek god, I am mere mortal.

I mythologize other humans.

But something else I’ve been realizing: I cannot control if someone decides to reject me or not. I am actually a pretty great person. I’ve definitely got flaws and issues and *problems* but I’m not an asshole, I’m kind, I’m generous, I’m funny, I’m not even ugly. I have nice tattoos and my boobs aren’t the worst. I usually don’t smell. I’ll probably make you some kind of art at some point. And I can cook. So if someone does decide to reject me that’s ok. It doesn’t make me a piece of crap. It just means I wasn’t their particular brand of whiskey. Does my RSD cause me to be a little clingy sometimes? Guilty. Does my RSD cause me to be overly sensitive? Guilty. Am I a crazy asshole? No.

I’ve been sitting here my whole life thinking that my worst, most annoying traits totally cancel out my good ones. If I’m a little clingy or talk too much or get my knickers in a twist a little too easily then I must not be worthy of love? I call bullshit.

So now I have to work on this. I can’t make my RSD disappear. But I can call a spade a spade and recognize what’s really going on here. I can remind myself that I am doing the best I can and that I’m a pretty great human. If someone doesn’t like me or outright rejects me, that’s on them and not me. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean (and I cannot stress this enough) I CAN’T MAKE PEOPLE LIKE ME NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY. It is their choice. All I can do is be my lovely, wonderful, goofy, neurodivergent self and hope for the best.

People WILL reject me. That is a part of life. And my RSD will continually rear its ugly head to try to take me down and make me mythologize the people in my life. I’ve gotta recognize it and take it out like a freaking Ghostbuster. Ghosts will always haunt NY but the Ghostbusters will always be there to take them out and lock them away. I ain’t afraid of no ghosts. I’ve gotta live with myself for the rest of my life so I may as well start trying to tame this RSD now.

Alright, I gotta get ready for school. I could probably talk about this a lot because I’ve been thinking about it A LOT. But I gotta go make my life cooler and better now. Peace.

I can’t control when the muse strikes. Looks like Nothing is gonna be a song I slowly write over the course of a few days (on the ole Casio) and make a terrible recording of and upload here for your listening pleasure. (Pleasure? Lol. Probably not.) I am expressing myself here, people. Deal. (Or not. I’m not in charge of you.)

nothing.m4a

I’m sitting in my new house, packed boxes still unopened and waiting for me to actually do something with all this crap. But I’m feeling super emo. So I grab my little Casio and bang this out. The keyboard is precariously balancing on my knee. I’m scratching out lyrics on whatever I can find because the notebook I normally use is in a box somewhere. And I don’t even finish the song. I write a verse and a chorus and I’m satisfied. So here you go. The song is called Nothing. Yes, it’s a reflection of my stupid, illogical feelings. No, it’s not representative of what I know to be true. Music doesn’t always have to tell the truth. Sometimes it can tell the raw heartache that gnaws at us and burns inside our chests, hollowing us out. Sometimes, like me, you love too much and it breaks you. I’m not stupid for loving. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less when the love goes unreturned.

I am afraid.

I’ve been afraid for 10 months.

Ten months ago, everything I knew “for certain” changed in an instant and life spun completely out of my control.

Routine, patterns, and consistency are all really important to me. I like understanding the rules and how things work so I can operate comfortably in this world that doesn’t make sense to me. Things that seem intuitive to some people are complete mysteries to me. How do they all seem to know what is “normal”? I have to learn the rules so I know what’s “normal”.

So, of course, my husband leaving unexpectedly and all the chaos that followed just wrecked me. There was no normal, no routine, no pattern, or consistency. Everything went into flux and just stayed that way. At first, I had no idea what to do. What do other people do when they go through a divorce? Turns out, there is no typical way to end a 21-year relationship. With no rules, I tried to follow my heart and do what felt right. But I was afraid. All the time.

I started trying to make decisions based on who I wanted to end up being when the smoke cleared. I enrolled in college for the first time. About a third of the way through my first semester, I realized I wanted to go to a different school. I started looking for one that had a great English and Writing program since that was what I was getting my degree in. I found the University of Iowa. It fit all of my needs. It wasn’t that far from my hometown, cost of living was comparable, and it had the best MFA program for writing in the nation. I applied to transfer in the fall. And I got in.

Now, I’m 16 days away from moving out of the town I’ve lived in for the last 28 years (since I was 13). This is the town where I met and fell in love with my ex-husband and married him at 19 years old. This is the town where both of my children were born. This is where my dad and stepmom still live. This is where my mom died of cancer at the age of 56. This is where she is buried. This is where my kids had their first kisses, first loves, first driving lessons, first swimming lessons, first years of school. This is the town where I had my heart broken more times than I can count. This is the town where I got divorced. I’ve never lived anywhere but Missouri and now I’m 16 days away from leaving.

Of course, I’m afraid.

This past weekend has been one where I am simply full of fear, overthinking scenarios, and worrying about what the future will look like. But I got royally sick of myself this morning. I made myself get up and out of the house. I drove to one of my favorite spots and just talked to myself. I realized how irrational my fears have been. I remembered things from my childhood that soothed me. And I realized that my kids would be ok. I would be ok.

I pulled out my journal and wrote, “All fear does is hold you back. You can’t banish your way out of fear or logic your way out. All you can do is face it and move forward. Standing still may as well be going backwards.”

There is still a part of me that is afraid but I have to be done with fear, done letting it hold me back. I have to be done standing still. I have to keep moving forward to stay alive. No more overthinking or trying to figure out the rules. There are no rules for this. This is uncharted territory for me. Someone else’s plan or way of going about this isn’t going to help me. I have to do what feels right to me. No more standing still, only moving forward.

People like to say, “this too shall pass.” That really just means that everything is temporary, everything has a season. This isn’t the rest of my life or my kids’ lives. It’s just a blip. This next part of my life isn’t even a chapter, it’s a few pages in the hero’s journey. It’s the traveling montage. It’s the opening of the story (moving to a new town because mom or dad is gone and we have to start over). The real adventure is yet to come.

Fear is going to lurk. It’s going to try to stop me, to get me to stand still. But standing still may as well be going backward. I have to face fear and push forward. Forward is the only way to stay alive.

I may have doubts and anxiety but I won’t let fear have me. I started off this post by saying, “I am afraid.” I’m ending it, saying, “I am strong enough to face the fear. I am strong enough to keep going.”

Forward.