I feel the strong need to qualify writing this immediately based on the title and scream, “THIS ISN’T A WOE IS ME POST!!” When I first feel that need, it seems reasonable — I’m in my 30’s, I’m reasonably well adjusted to life, and, by and large, I present like I have things figured out. But, if I take a step back and sit with the feeling, rather than trying to analyze and dismiss it (which is my default — more on this in a future post), I find something else: a deep, cavernous well of shame. This is an interesting observation because my need to make it clear that I’m not looking for pity comes from that very same well. The idea of someone reading this and thinking, “wow, he is absolutely pathetic” triggers that shame response and makes me want to run away and hide.

Recently, I’ve been reading a bunch of research done by Dr. William Dodson and others about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD), a condition in which individuals have extreme emotional sensitivity and pain triggered by the perception of being rejected. It is a form of emotional dysregulation and is commonly experienced by people with ADHD, especially those who were not diagnosed until well into adulthood. It’s believed that RSD is a result of both “nature” and “nurture”, where the specific neurological makeup of the ADHD brain struggles to process emotion (nature) combines with the lived experience of an ADHDer having heard, on average, an additional 20,000 criticisms by the time they’re nine years old. RSD can be triggered by rejection (the real or perceived withdrawal of love, approval, or respect), teasing, criticism, or persistent self-criticism and negative self-talk (typically prompted by a real or perceived failure - this is a big one for me).

So why do I bring up RSD? Well, I have it. Honestly, just typing that out and admitting it wants to trigger my RSD because it makes me feel like a failure or, even worse, a fraud. Surely it’s not RSD and actually I’m just weak and pathetic and should probably just get my shit together, right? But I’m choosing to actively counter that internal dialogue (and to listen to my ADHD specialist doctor and my therapist), instead recognizing that seeing the pattern, and putting a name to it, can help me start to understand how deeply RSD is entrenched in my life. It creates just the tiniest crack for light to get through, illuminating that well of shame so that I can feel its texture and, more importantly, find my way to its roots. The texture that I’m hung up on right now is the feeling of friendship (and if I even know what that means).

So, back to the title (and subtitle) of this post. Let’s break it down.

I believed for most of my life (genuinely up until about a week ago) that I couldn’t imagine anything worse than feeling invisible. What I mean by this is pretty simple: it’s going through life and feeling like you’ve never made a mark on anyone else’s, particularly when those anyones aren’t just anyone, but are people that you love, cherish, and/or respect. It’s the idea that, no matter what you do, no one is ever going to remember you, and, therefore, you’re as good as invisible.

I held dear for most of my adult life the idea that my core self was incompatible with true, meaningful friendship. This has been a constant source of pain, shame, and feelings of worthlessness — all concepts deeply connected with loneliness.

Look, I know loneliness is not unique to me or to the experience of folks with ADHD and RSD. In White Oleander Janet Finch wrote, “Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow”. She follows up by saying that we should “never expect to outgrow loneliness”, nor should we “hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space”. I include this quote not because I agree with the sentiment; rather, I read it and I think, “that’s what I used to believe, too”. More on where I’ve landed now at the end of this post.

This bit is kind of the whole soup that I’m swimming in right now. I’m still figuring it out myself, but let’s see if I can explain it relatively clearly.

Let’s start with feeling seen. That’s what we all want, right? How many times when you’re struggling has someone said to you, “Hey, I see you”. It’s comforting and, like a warm campfire, instills a sense of belonging. For me, it’s something different entirely (unless it’s said by one of maybe 3 people on the entire planet). I’ll put it this way: to feel seen is to feel exposed. Remember what I was saying about that deep well of shame? My brain tells me that if I slip up and let people see me they’ll be staring directly into that well. My experience as a child, before I’d learned to hide away my true self, taught me that people seeing me for me led to comments like, “you’re such a freak”. “What a loser”. “Sit down and pay attention”. “Shut up”. “You’re too sensitive”. “You’re pathetic”. “Stop being such a wimp”. I learned early on that, as I mentioned before, my core self was incompatible with the expectations of those around me. I have 10’s of thousands of pieces of evidence to suggest that when I am seen, I am misunderstood, and when I am misunderstood, I am rejected.

It is death by a thousand cuts.

This is RSD. This is the fundamental, structural fabric woven into my existence that is present in every interaction I have with any human at any time. If I send a text message to someone and they don’t reply, I’ll likely end up deciding that the person hates me and it creates a physical ache in my chest like I’ve just been punched in the sternum. It is indistinguishable from what I felt the first time I was dumped on the front step of my ex’s house, or when I was excited about my new shoes in grade 7 and was told that they were stupid the first day I wore them. I never wore them again. This is not me being “too sensitive”. This is a Molotov cocktail of neurology and life that blows up in my hands every time, no matter how hard I try to throw it.

So back to the point. These experiences shaped me from a young age into someone who just simply stopped being himself when I was with any other humans. If I wanted to have any chance of belonging in society, I needed to figure out exactly what society wanted of me and then do my damnedest to give it to them. This is known as ADHD masking, and is a topic in and of itself — something I’ll likely explore in a future post.

I talked a lot in my first post about creating moments, and in those moments creating a new beginning. This is one of those moments for me.

I hypothesize that loneliness manifests itself uniquely in each person it touches. This manifestation is intrinsically linked to what we believe about ourselves and is a fundamental aspect of our own personal humanity. This idea instills a sense of hope, and what is hope if not the belief that we’ll make it to a good place, despite not yet having the directions?

This tells me that working to understand the source of my loneliness is working to understand my own personal humanity. It is an opportunity to reconnect with my true self from a place of compassion — to find the little boy hiding at the bottom of the well of shame, bring him to the surface, give him a hug, and remind him,

Anyway, here’s a poem for today. It’s called light/dark.