Reframing the Inner Critic: Living with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria and AuDHD

 

For most of my life, I wrestled with an invisible weight. A single offhanded comment could send me spiraling for hours — sometimes days. I hated how deeply it could affect me. And then, just to twist the knife, I’d get angry at myself for being too sensitive. It was a cycle I couldn’t seem to break. 

 

Thanks to my recent AuDHD (Autism + ADHD) diagnosis, I can finally give that experience a name: Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD). It’s a painfully intense emotional response to perceived rejection or criticism — something that’s been quietly shaping my life without me ever realizing it. Layer that with the “all-or-nothing” perfectionism that so many neurodivergent folks live with, and you’ve got a cocktail of self-doubt and crippled confidence running the show. 

I’d pour my heart into a performance, spill my soul into a story, and give every ounce of energy to a podcast episode. And yet, rarely did I feel like it was good enough. My internal monologue insisted, “Everyone else is better than you. You have to be perfect just to prove you belong.” 

But here’s the twist — and it’s one that trips me up every time. The world often responded differently. I’d get a standing ovation. A castmate’s heartfelt praise. A written piece would go viral. A short story would win an award. A podcast episode would hit record downloads. By all external accounts, those things should have been enough to quiet the doubts. But when you live with AuDHD, those dopamine hits fade fast. 

And before long, that nagging voice of impostor syndrome comes roaring back: “That was a fluke. You’ll have to prove yourself all over again.” Then one critical comment — often meant casually, without malice — comes along, and the whole fragile structure comes crashing down. It’s exhausting. 

What I’m Learning 

Over the past few months, I’ve started to recognize that this is just how my brain is wired. That insight alone has brought more peace than I expected. It reminds me that while these emotions feel real and heavy, they aren’t always telling the truth. And even when there’s a grain of truth, I can use it as motivation to grow without it defining my worth. 

 

My therapist introduced me to two practices that have made a surprising difference: 

A Thought Journal – Where I unpack what I’m feeling, challenge the automatic thoughts, and work toward a more compassionate, realistic perspective. 

 A “Win Diary” – Where I jot down compliments, successes, and small moments of joy to revisit when my self-doubt kicks in. 

 

I won’t lie — the win diary still feels vain and awkward sometimes. And I struggle to keep it up. But every time I look back, I realize it holds so much more than my inner critic would ever let me believe. 

Choosing to Show Up Anyway 

Another thing I’ve made an intentional effort to do is encourage others as genuinely as I can. Because I know firsthand how many of us wrestle with self-worth and self-doubt, often quietly and in isolation. And funny enough — those people tend to be some of the most gifted, creative, and insightful people I’ve ever met. 

 

So here’s where I’m at today: I’m going to keep showing up. Keep telling stories. Keep creating. Keep letting people know I see them. Keep reminding them — and myself — that we all have something real, beautiful, and valuable to offer this world. 

And that, maybe, is enough. 💙