Being your own person

even when you're sensitive to rejection

The struggle

The struggle for autonomy, living from yourself, knowing yourself, having space for all of yourself, self-determination...

for some people this comes more easily than the vulnerability of connection.

And for recovering people-pleasers like me, just being ourselves without masking can feel really risky in our bodies.

And also essential for being your own person.

So what do we do with that?

Photo by Chandra Oh on Unsplash

Add a dose of rejection sensitivity

I now have a greater understanding of my sensitivity to any sign of disappointment, disregard, or disgust in others’ facial expressions, emotions, and energy around me. This is all a part of my high level of rejection sensitivity, also known as rejection sensitive dysphoria, which is a common experience with ADHD, and sometimes autism.

Growing up, it felt like a huge risk to just be me. It felt like I could disappoint or hurt someone at any moment. And then that would lead to tension in the relationship, which felt agonizing. I would question what I did to cause this, apologize, and try to be aware of this in the future so it wouldn’t happen again.

It became one of my rules for being good: never hurt anyone, ever.

(And you tend to hurt people unintentionally if you’re not ever-vigilant)

Make sure no one feels hurt around you, whether you caused it or not. Even if you didn’t cause it, it’s your job as “the good samaritan” to help. Otherwise you’re guilty there too. Really the only options left, it seemed to me anyways, were hypervigilance, people-pleasing, caretaking, achieving, being under the radar, perfectionism, taking myself too seriously, internal criticism and control, and avoidance/isolation.

All of this applied not only to human relationships, but what I was taught about god as well. So, I was hypervigilant of any sense of tension or space that might indicate I had sinned or disappointed god. I had to feel “his” presence at all times, do all the things a good Christian did (read bible, pray, church, devotions, etc.) to ensure connection. To make sure I wasn’t actually a “goat” when I thought I was a “sheep” and be sent to hell. (This reference is from Matthew 25 in the Bible. Be grateful if you don’t know what I’m talking about.)

No wonder so many of us have OCD patterns and tendencies like scrupulosity and ethical OCD. When the relational/religious “rules” don’t make sense, but there are huge consequences to not following them, you become a bit obsessed. And that’s not to mention the neurological similarities between neurodivergence and OCD, which is a topic I would like to research more when I have time.

Some relief

A turning point for me was realizing: I am not responsible for other people’s feelings about me.

I can’t control others’ emotions, and I don’t have to take them “into myself” to help others feel better.

The book Stick Up For Yourself, which I often used with clients, brought me this clarity. I learned, and began feeling the truth in my body, that my feelings and behaviors were my responsibility, and others’ feelings and behaviors were their responsibility.

For someone who keenly feels others’ emotions, and felt responsible to care for them, this was revolutionary for me.

It is a clear line in the sand that I can overlay on most circumstances and interactions. Some still feel tricky, like teasing out the differences among accommodation, care, and/or compromise in close relationships, versus over-caring, rescuing, etc.

But overall it feels clearer and easier. And the relief in my body as I have lived this out is palpable.

I don’t have to manage myself or manage others’ emotions. I can just be me. With awareness and compassion. Compassion for myself and others I’m in contact with. Open to respectful feedback about how something I said or did impacted someone. And curiosity about how it impacted them with the lens of compassionate inquiry and openness to adjust.

I can accept that I am a compassionate and empathic person. And I am a squishy human (as Katie Couvillon says), and thus, not perfect.

People-pleasing and caretaking others’ emotions is often a survival response, that turns into a repeated trauma response. It is also often a societal expectation for women. It is something our bodies choose in a millisecond to cope with attachment/interpersonal/relational wounds.

Perfectionism is another coping strategy that we use to avoid disappointment, disconnection, or other subtle threats our bodies detect before we are even consciously aware of them.

We feel the insistence inside: I have to…or else… So much pressure. And we usually don’t even know what the “or else” is, we just know it feels like the worst thing in the world. These ways of coping get ingrained in us so early, it’s okay if we can’t complete the sentence. And it’s also okay to begin compassionate inquiry into what might happen if you start changing the sentence… I can, I want to, I feel pressure to… Give yourself some clarity and relief from the pressure and see what happens. Some relief maybe?

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• What are some turning points for you?

• What has brought you some understanding and/or relief from people-pleasing and perfectionism?

• What has allowed you to have more space, permission, and initiative for yourself?

• Are there any ways you know yourself better now that bring you compassion and relief?