**By Milly - Lived Experience Program Lead**

Two years ago, I received a diagnosis that finally gave a name to the storm that has floored me more times than I can count. For decades, I moved through a world for which I had no map. But that diagnosis (ADHD) acted as a lantern, illuminating the wreckage, the beauty, and the profound struggle within my relationships. Most importantly, it finally explained Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD).

The Visceral Takeover

For me, RSD is not as simple as being "afraid of rejection." It is a full-body, metabolic takeover that renders me momentarily helpless.

When communication isn't clear and I am left guessing in the static, my brain doesn’t just wonder, it decides. It assumes the absolute worst-case scenario, every single time. It whispers that silence is just the quiet before the discard, a sign that they’ve already decided I’m not worth the effort of a goodbye. It tells me a "we need to talk" email from a boss is a guaranteed "you're fired." It stabs me with a "you are an embarrassment" after every social occasion, leaving me to sit in the agonizing "social hangover" of over-analyzing every word I spoke.

In those moments, my body becomes a literal fireball. My heart sinks into a hollow space in my chest, and my throat tightens until my voice feels trapped. My brain spirals; I overthink every facial twitch of those around me. I re-read texts like a forensic investigator searching for evidence of hate. I pace. I cry. In the past, I even turned to self-harm just to ground the pain.

In the heat of the fire, I am no longer a functioning adult or a leader in my field; I am thrust back into the raw, gaping wounds of childhood abandonment. I struggle to even breathe.

Numbing the Noise

I look back at my 20s and I see a person who was simply trying to survive a brain they didn’t understand. Because the RSD was so loud, I went searching for any hands that would hold me, even the ones that left bruises.

I fell into an abusive relationship and high-risk social circles just to feel the fleeting warmth of being "wanted." I tried to douse the fire in my body with drugs and alcohol, desperately seeking a way to drown out the noise. When those choices led to more dysregulation, the internal conversation with my RSD led me to a crossroads. There were several times I attempted to end my own life because I felt so desperately unwanted.

I wish I could go back and tell that version of myself: “You are wanted. Your thoughts are not the truth. This is RSD; you have ADHD, and there are better ways to carry this. There is a way out.”

Sunshine and Rain: The Intensity of Being

Through Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) and Somatic Internal Family Systems (IFS), I learned a hard, beautiful truth: RSD doesn’t go away; it is a part of you that needs love. To have an ADHD brain is to feel with an epic depth that is both a burden and a superpower.

My happiness is pure sunshine; my sadness is a downpour. I have learned to take the sweets with the sours. I am not a project to be "fixed." I am a human with a brilliant brain, and if I can learn to hold these experiences as they roll over me like waves, I can also celebrate the epic joy that comes with this intensity.

I truly believe we are given these experiences because we have the capacity to transform them. I love hard because I feel hard, and that makes me a deep connector, a compassionate soul, and a devoted friend.

In the end, the worst part of RSD is not even about others - it's the rejection of the self that hits hardest. You eventually realize that the rejection of others is often a ghost, an internal monologue telling you that because you feel so much, you are unlovable. This is a lie. Healing begins when you realize that if you love yourself exactly as you are, intensely feeling, deeply human, the rest falls into place. You can ride the waves trusting that what is meant for you will never pass you by.

The Toolkit of the Soul

Diving into the "why" has been my lifeline. I have moved from punishing my pain to Attuning to it. Using the Gottman Theory, I practice the ATTUNE process (Awareness, Turning toward, Tolerance, Understanding, Non-defensive listening, and Empathy) with my own heart.

Instead of judging myself for the fire, I turn toward it. I acknowledge it. This is the only way through the shadows. My most powerful tool is a simple act of defiance against the shame. I hold my own heart and I speak to it out loud:

“I want you.”
“I am safe.”
“I won’t leave.”
“The right people will always stay.”
“What is meant for me will always find me.”

The Final Movement: Grace as the Greatest Gift

I haven't always navigated my life with grace. For a long time, my undiagnosed ADHD made me reactive; it caused me to run and hide, or to cling to things that were never meant for me. I know these moments have caused unnecessary pain, for myself and for others, but I carry those parts of my story with compassion for everyone involved. I’ve realized that we are all living, breathing, growing souls, and the greatest gift we can offer one another is grace.

As Brené Brown says, ‘All I know is that my life is better when I work from the assumption that everyone is doing the best they can.’ My toolkit is better now and my awareness is sharper, but I’ve realized that perfection was never the point, becoming is. I am finally leaning into the bravery of being a 'work in progress,' accepting myself as a messy, real, and beautifully unfinished human.

RSD is not a curse. It is an experience, an agonizingly intense, deeply human experience. Whether you are the one standing in the fire or the one holding the hand of someone who is: it just takes time, compassion, and an immense amount of grace.

As you ride the waves, remember: the safest landing ground always starts within. The first person who needs to want you, is you.

Read Milly's Staff Profile