Unlovable: Living with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria as an ADHD Mum

The First Time I Felt Unlovable

I can't quite pinpoint the exact moment it began, but I remember becoming aware of an uncomfortable feeling, loud and certain - that maybe I wasn’t a likeable person. I think I was about ten.

I don't think I was ‘nice’ in the soft, quiet, easily lovable way. I was wild, full of energy, unpredictable - sometimes angry, sometimes cross, refused to do things - I definitely had a whole lot of spirit! But during one particularly hard moment, I felt it like a gut-punch:

What if… even my own mum doesn't love me like this?

Not when I was defiant and not doing what I was asked. Not when I was furious - when I slammed doors, shouted, or didn’t know how to say what I meant. Not when I couldn’t sit still, follow the rules, play nicely, or tick the neat little boxes of girlhood.

On the day I remember, I was overwhelmed (probably by something small that had spiraled into something big, as it often did). I remember feeling so deeply jealous that my brother had done something brilliant - smart and shiny, as always - and I was stuck, again. Confused and frustrated with these big emotions. And I had no idea why I couldn't do these things that seemed to come so quietly and easily to him. It didn't feel fair.

When Mum came in to tuck me in, I told her as honestly as I could with the tears rolling - “I just don’t feel like I’m good at anything.”

When she responded, she didn’t say anything unkindly. In fact, as a mum now, I know she was likely at her wits’ end - probably wishing I'd go to sleep so she could finally put her feet up for five minutes peace. And I don’t remember the exact words, but I remember the impact. It was something like:

She was tired. I was tired. (Frankly, I think she was ready for her G'n'T!)

But for me? It felt like my chest had been cracked open. The burning shame. Tears that felt like lava.

That night, cheeks hot, heart pounding, I made an unspoken deal with myself:

Don’t show that true part of you again.

Don’t let anyone see the wildness. The sadness. The fire. Because if they do… they probably won't love you anymore.

And so, I started hiding my truth.

What Is Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria?

Until recently, I didn’t even know there was a name for this experience - the humiliating, physical pain. The extreme reaction to things that seem small to others. Things most people shrug off over a cup of tea and maybe a quick cry.

I thought there was something wrong with me - that I was just too sensitive. (Been told that one my whole life. Cheers, everyone.)

As a teenager, young adult, manager, mum... I kept hearing it.

“You’re just too sensitive.”

What are you meant to do with that? Grow a suit of armour? Become a yoga teacher (haha!). Pretend you’re not feeling a thing?

But here’s the thing, I just found out it has a name.

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria — or RSD.

It’s not an official diagnosis (yet), but it’s being studied and it’s a very real part of ADHD, especially in women and girls. Well, hello!

RSD is the intense emotional pain we feel when we perceive rejection, even if it isn’t actually there. Which is really bloody confusing for anyone who is trying to manage a relationship with us.

It can be triggered by:

• A tone of voice
• A raised eyebrow
• Being left out of a group chat or not being included on an invitation
• Someone disagreeing with us or saying something unexpected
• “Helpful” feedback like, “You just need to try harder/apply yourself/do it differently..."

It doesn’t just sting. It scorches. It shocks you. It sticks around long after the moment, like a bad perfume. It loops and burns until you’re convinced you’ve ruined everything... again.

How Does It Feel?

RSD isn’t a passing mood. It’s full-body experience, a deep pain - and one of the worst things is that it doesn't go away quickly.

For me, it feels like:

• Wild, lightning-fast panic
• Cheeks flushed, humiliation.
• Chest tight, you did it wrong again.
• Tears behind the eyes
• A full-body urge to run
• A voice whispering, “You’ve ruined everything.” Or yelling, “They hate you. You’re unlovable.”

I now recognise that this is my nervous system going into survival mode - fight, flight, or freeze.
Except my freeze doesn’t look gentle or withdrawn.
It looks like rage.

And that rage? That’s the part I thought made me unlovable.

Because rage doesn’t get hugs or soothing words.
It doesn’t invite someone to sit down and say, “Let’s work through this together.”

Nope. Rage makes people flinch. And as women, we’re not supposed to be angry. We’re supposed to be kind. Calm. Composed. Cross, maybe - but certainly not furious.

Why ADHD Makes It Worse

If you’re a woman with ADHD, chances are your brain is wired for:

• Sensitivity
• Empathy
• Intensity
• Constant internal commentary (yay!)

You might:

• Feel things deeply, in yourself and in other people
• Notice every shift in tone, every glance, every pause
• Replay conversations on loop for hours, or even days
• Worry you overshared or said the wrong thing
• Crave connection... yet still struggle to trust it when it shows up

When you’ve spent your life masking, trying to be what others want - then even the slightest hint of disapproval feels like proof of your deepest fear:

“You’re too much.” “You don’t belong.” “You’re not a nice person. You're unlovable.”

That’s why praise can feel addictive, and criticism can feel like a slap in the face - even if it’s gentle. Even if it’s valid. Even if it’s delivered with kindness and cake.

So we hustle for worthiness. We people-please. We over-apologise. We change direction all the time in an attempt to outrun the feelings. We try to earn our place.

How It Shows Up In My Life

RSD shows up for me when I use my softest voice to apologise for something that didn’t need apologising for. It’s in the friendships I ended too soon, angry and feeling hard done by. The jobs I didn't stick at - always chasing a new adventure, escaping every time and not having to deal with failing again. It’s in the boyfriends I let down and left before they could leave me, or find out who I really am. It’s in the way I flinch when someone is slightly disappointed. It’s in the work I abandoned before it could be criticised. It’s in the way I protect myself - by snapping, quitting, ghosting, masking, running.

And now? It’s followed me into motherhood.

When my daughter says, “I’m fat, I’m ugly, I’m horrible, I HATE myself” I hear the echo. I see it. I feel it. I know what she’s really saying is:

"I don’t feel lovable right now. I don't know how to control these feelings. Please don’t leave me here."

And I won’t. Not ever.

What I’m Learning Now

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria doesn’t vanish just because I can name it. (Shame, hey!) It still knocks the wind out of me. But something shifts when I feel it coming on and I try and say quietly to myself:
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​"I might feel unlovable sometimes… but that doesn't mean I am."

I’m learning that my job isn’t to be perfect (Because that's a race I'll never win!) It’s to return to myself every time with curiosity, not shame. To pause, breathe, and take the time to choose how to respond instead of defaulting to survival mode (RUN!).

To remind myself that feelings are visitors. Not landlords.

Yoga helps. Exercise helps. Talking helps. And so does the outdoors - my go to, my happy place.

I’m learning how to stay. How to stay in my body. Stay with my emotions. Stay in the messy middle, without making it mean I’m a bad mum, a bad wife, or an unlovable person.

A Note for You, If You’ve Ever Felt Unlovable

If you’ve ever thought:

• “I ruin everything.”
• “They’ll leave me if they see the real me.”

Please know: You are not too much. You are not too emotional. You are not unlovable.

You are wired for depth. For empathy. For creativity. For survival — yes — but also for connection.

You’re not here just to survive. You’re here to feel. To be seen. To stay.

And that bigness you carry? It’s not something to fix. It’s something to honour.

A Soft Place to Land

If this landed in your heart, made you think or if there was a shock of recognition - then please tell me! I'm here and would love to hear from you.
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If you'd rather not then that's fine too - I'm busy making headway with some new offerings, but in the meantime I have a couple of things you might like to check out:
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🌼 From Frazzled to Regulated - a free self-regulation workbook (sounds boring I know, but I tried to make it pretty and fun ha!) for ADHD mums who need a moment to breathe, anchor, and rebalance.

And if nature calls to you like it does to me?
🌿 You can grab my Outdoor Yoga Practice Guide in my Etsy shop for just £5.39.

Get your feet muddy, the wind in your hair and remember that your wild self is just awesome as she is.

Before You Go…

The other night, my daughter said to me at bedtime...
​Mummy, I think I’m too crazy sometimes for my friends.

I paused. Not just to hold space for her - but to hold space for me, too.

I wanted to fix it. Say the right thing. Make the feeling go away.

But instead, I took a breath, gave her a big squeeze (she was in a cuddly mood - it could have gone either way), and said:

"Well… they might say that. But you could never be too much for me. Not ever. And I love you exactly as you are.”

And I realised:

I needed to hear that too.

A Question for You

What did you need to hear - that you didn’t?

What might shift if you whispered it to yourself now?

Write it down. Say it out loud.
Say it to the girl you used to be.
Say it to your daughter.
Say it like it matters - because it really does.

You belong here.
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You always did.
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​Among the wildflowers. 🌸

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