I remember it so well. We were lying in bed. I was trying to fall sleep. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Nick asks me if I think people think I’m a good person or a bad person. Without thinking I said, “I don’t think people think about me.” He said that was sad but I didn’t mean it in a sad way. I meant that people are wrapped up in their own lives and stories and I don’t really factor into anyone’s story in a significant enough way for them to think about me when I’m not around. Out of sight, out of mind.

But now I’m thinking about all this again while I struggle to recognize my rejection sensitive dysphoria for what it is. I still think people don’t think about me unless I pop up in their life. If I send them a text, for example. But if I’m not in their immediate view (irl, social media, text messages, etc.) then I go back to not existing. If someone were to ask me that question again, do people think I’m a good or bad person, I would answer the same way with an addendum or two.

When I imagine what people think of me, I see my worst traits. I imagine that all the good things about me go unnoticed and only the worst parts of me are what come to mind. Annoying, embarrassing, talk too much, too sensitive, too emotional, boring, overthinking, fat, ugly, grating speaking voice. It’s a wonder I have any friends at all.

When I think about how I feel about myself, I see a lot of good. I think I’m kind, funny, intelligent, generous, pretty, and somewhat adventurous. I like myself and my British accent. I don’t care if my kids say it’s not believable.

I’ve been on a real roller coaster of emotions since admitting to myself the other day just how bad my RSD has gotten. I’ve been trying to hype myself up and keep my spirits up but tbh it’s a struggle sometimes. I’m struggling right now as I write this.

I wish I could say I’m worried about what people think of me but the truth is I feel like I already KNOW. They don’t think of me. I don’t exist when I’m not around. And when I am around, I’m back to being the annoying, weird kid in class that no one plays with at recess.

At the moment, I’m feeling very “hide from the world” for a while. Disappear. A friend told me after I moved to Iowa that they thought I was just gonna disappear one day. Wishful thinking? Were they hinting at the future they hoped for? I don’t know.

One thing I know is this journey of rediscovering myself is sometimes fun and sometimes dark and difficult. Today, right now, we’re at dark and difficult. All I know is I don’t want to be cheered up. I want to sit in this feeling until I understand it. That might mean I disappear for a while. Idk. I have no idea what’s next or what tomorrow will bring. I just know there are always rocky valleys to fight through.

People have been calling me brave for a year now. Every time I make a difficult decision to change my life, or share some hard won lesson I’ve learned, someone calls me brave. I’m not brave. I do what I must and nothing more. I don’t have a choice. The things I’m doing are all things I feel I have to do. So I do them. And doing the things, even the really hard things, will lead me closer to where and who and what I want to be.

Right now, doing the things has led me to dark and difficult. Tomorrow may be different.

PS. I mean it when I say I don’t want to be cheered up. I’m just using this blog and this post as a heart patch to sew onto my sleeve. Idk why writing this out helps me but it does. It’s part of my process I guess. Idk. Thanks in advance for not trying to cheer me up.

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.