Resisting rejection

On ADHD, emotional reactivity, and the hidden cost of being misunderstood

Last week in therapy, I found myself circling around two phrases that often come up in ADHD conversations—both of which sound awful on the surface:

Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria

Pathological Demand Avoidance

Honestly, could they sound any more clinical? Any more damning?

But there’s truth in them. Not necessarily as diagnoses or dysfunctions—but as descriptions of lived emotional patterns that shape how I (and many others) experience the world.

NB, Though, as a fairly recently ADHD diagnosed person, I do think ADHD can be an interesting lens to look at a lot of behaviour through. Many people experience ADHD traits. Having/being ADHD is having them more of the time.

My therapist asked me to track moments of emotional friction—especially those involving rejection or demands. How did I feel about each one.

Now, I'm not very good at tracking how I feel over time. But getting better. It is a fundamentally difficult exercise for some people. Especially those that may suppress feeling into themselves because of deeper wounds.

Anyhow, as I experienced a rather poignant moment between me and someone last night, it brought a few recent experiences this week into sharper focus:

1. When my partner gently challenged my use of time

Our home has been in physical chaos. Mostly because of me. And my deeper hoarder issues. I’ve been moving workspaces, downsizing storage, and pushing myself through the traumatic, shame-laced admin of going through my stuff.

She offered a sensitive, well-couched bit of feedback. She tried really hard, and I know she has been suppressing some of it. But it still hit me hard.

Why?

Because it felt like a rejection—not just of my actions, but of my identity. My priorities. My energy. The way I see myself. When that kind of critique comes from someone who knows and loves you, it cuts deeper.

My reaction. Undesirable. I got frustrated. Angry at her. Because I'm really angry at me. Sometimes, the truth from someone else can cut to the core of the truth you are hiding from.

2. When a peer offered unsolicited advice

I’d been having some informal peer accountability with someone. Last week she checked in on me, and in her response she jumped in with a solution that bothered me. They were things I’d already thought of, and also things I hadn’t asked for.

I know she meant well. But I didn’t want advice. I was just sharing where I was at.

Unsolicited solutions (especially related to life and more personal, identity things) often feel like an erasure of my agency. Like I’m being treated as incapable. And when someone assumes power over my decisions (even unintentionally), I recoil. It feels like a demand. Like pressure. Like control.

And that’s where the avoidance kicks in. Even if what she was saying was in alignment with what I was thinking.

Luckily, I was able to address this more directly, and hope we can talk more about it soon.

3. When someone misunderstood me and walked away

A new contact reached out to connect. We exchanged messages. And I shared some old work, and a recent podcast. Then, out of the blue, she cancelled our meeting—saying she didn’t think our views aligned and that it wasn't worth chatting as we might become defensive.

It stung. Because her assumption felt like it massively misunderstood me, my beliefs and decades of work. It felt like she really misjudged me, and made a snap decision based on a version of me that wasn’t real.

That’s the part that cut the deepest: being rejected for the wrong reasons.

It mirrored something that’s haunted me through burnout, breakdown, and healing—this feeling of being misread, misperceived, and dismissed before I’m even known.

None of these moments were huge in isolation. But each one tapped into something raw:

What happens when who we (believe we) are collides with how others see us—or what they want from us?

That’s where these big ugly phrases start to make sense.

Rejection Sensitivity isn’t just “taking things personally.”

It’s feeling like your identity is under threat when someone misunderstands you, challenges you, or walks away.

Demand Avoidance isn’t just being difficult.

It’s a deep, often unconscious, reaction to the perception of control, pressure, or expectation.

For many of us—especially those who are neurodivergent, trauma-aware, or just built a little tender—these aren’t “pathologies.” They’re adaptations. Strategies. Stories we’ve learned to tell ourselves for protection.

What I’m trying to learn is this:

Not every demand is a threat.

Not every correction is rejection.

And not every moment of discomfort needs to be defended.

But my nervous system doesn’t always know that.

So what helps?

Not advice.

Not prescriptions.

Not even approval.

But curiosity.

Reflection.

Trust.

Listening for impact, not just offering solutions.

Because the antidote to rejection isn’t validation.

It’s being truly seen.

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If this resonates, I’d love to know. I’m not here with answers—just questions, observations, and a desire to better understand how we show up in relationships and in ourselves. Part of me wants to better audit mine and other’s lives through the lenses of rejection and demand avoidance.