The Stories We Tell Ourselves: Understanding Rejection Sensitivity in ADHD

For women navigating relationships with heightened emotional sensitivity

You know that feeling. Your partner's tone shifts slightly. Their energy changes. Maybe they're quieter than usual, or there's a tension in their body language you can't quite name but definitely feel.

And instantly, your body responds: What did I do wrong?

Your heart races. Your mind scrambles through the last hour, the last day, searching for evidence of your mistake. The story writes itself before you even realize you're telling it: They're upset with me. I messed up. They're going to leave.

If this resonates with you, you're not alone. And here's what might surprise you: your sensitivity isn't the problem.

The Mistranslation: When Accurate Perception Becomes Painful

Here's what's actually happening in those moments of sudden panic: You ARE perceiving something real. Your sensitivity is accurate. That shift in your partner's energy? It's there. You're not imagining it.

The challenge isn't your perception—it's the automatic story your brain tells you about what it means.

Psychological research has shown that humans make sense of emotional experiences through story—even when we don't realize we're doing it. A 2022 review in the European Journal of Psychotraumatology noted that narrative processing is central to how people understand stress, regulate emotions, and recover from difficult experiences.

Think about it this way: You pick up a genuine emotional signal from someone you care about. Maybe they're having an internal moment—stress about work, worry about a family member, physical discomfort, or simply processing their own thoughts. Your perceptive brain registers this shift immediately.

But here's where the mistranslation happens. Without pausing to verify, your brain automatically interprets that signal as: This is about me. This is a threat. This means rejection.

The story becomes "They're disappointed in me" rather than "They're experiencing disappointment that may have nothing to do with me."

Narrative research consistently finds that the brain automatically creates meaning from emotional cues—often before we're consciously aware of it. The trauma literature calls this narrative coupling: the linking of a raw emotional signal with a story that explains it. In ADHD, that automatic coupling tends to skew toward self-blame or rejection.

For women with ADHD, this pattern can feel especially intense and exhausting. The combination of naturally heightened emotional sensitivity paired with challenges in executive functioning creates a perfect storm. You feel everything more intensely, and that pause button that might help you reality-check the story? It's harder to access.

Why This Happens: The Developmental Roots

Most children develop a crucial cognitive ability somewhere between ages 5 and 7: the understanding that other people's internal emotional states can exist independently of us. In other words, "Mom is upset, but it's not necessarily about me or caused by me."

For many neurodivergent folks, particularly those with ADHD, this differentiation happens at a cognitive level—you can intellectually understand that someone else's bad mood isn't always about you—but it doesn't fully integrate at the emotional and somatic level.

The difference isn't the sensitivity itself—it's in how our brains automatically translate the signals we pick up. In my clinical experience working with neurodivergent clients, I've observed what appears to be a pattern: where most people's brains seem to develop a kind of "emotional firewall" that filters "this is about me" from "this is about them," neurodivergent brains often process emotional data as relational by default. While research confirms that people with ADHD experience heightened emotional sensitivity and challenges with emotional regulation, this specific mechanism I'm describing is based on my clinical observations and warrants further research.

The Protective Story

But here's the compassionate piece: this didn't happen in a vacuum.

If asking for clarification was historically unsafe—maybe you grew up with dismissive caregivers, unpredictable emotional environments, or heard "you're too sensitive" one too many times—then your younger self learned something important:

• My perception is real (it is—you ARE picking up accurate signals)

• But investigating is dangerous (asking led to dismissal, gaslighting, or more rejection)

• So I must figure it out alone (create a story to make sense of what I'm sensing)

• The safest story is: "It's about me, and I need to fix it" (at least then I have some control)

Your brain wasn't broken. It was brilliant. That automatic storytelling was a survival adaptation that helped you navigate an emotionally unpredictable world.

Narrative-based trauma research shows that when people grow up in unpredictable or emotionally dismissive environments, their nervous system learns to create protective meaning-making patterns that prioritize safety over accuracy. That's why the old story of "It must be about me" feels so instinctive—it once protected you.

The problem is, that same protective mechanism that once kept you safe now creates suffering where there doesn't need to be any.

The Rejection Sensitivity Loop

This pattern creates what we call rejection sensitivity, but it's more complex than just "fear of rejection." Here's how the loop typically plays out:

1. Accurate perception of an emotional shift in someone else

2. Automatic "about me/threat" story (because asking once felt unsafe)

3. Body responds to the story with anxiety, panic, shame

4. Behavior changes—you might withdraw, seek excessive reassurance, become defensive, or people-please

5. This behavior may actually create tension in the relationship

6. Which confirms the original story: "See, I WAS right to worry"

And here's where the dopamine piece becomes crucial. Research shows that with insufficient dopamine in ADHD brains, social approval doesn't provide the same rewarding feeling it does for neurotypical folks. Your brain becomes desperate to avoid even mild rejections because they feel devastatingly punishing without the dopamine-fueled reward from acceptance or praise.

This can show up as:

• Ruminating when you're alone—feeling rejected even when no one else is around, as if the mere absence of connection equals abandonment

• Constant mental scanning—preoccupied with potential rejection even when there's no evidence

• Social inhibition—afraid of saying something "out of pocket" and facing rejection

• Valuing others' opinions more than your own—their approval becomes the source of dopamine you desperately need

• Self-loathing lens—when self-worth is low, all perceptions get filtered through self-contempt

The exhausting truth? You're not just managing relationships. You're managing an internal narrative system that's working overtime to protect you from a threat that may not even be there.

The Way Out: Rewriting Your Story

Here's the liberating truth that changes everything: That past moment is not happening right now.

If you're reading this, you're safe. You're here. And you have a choice about the story you tell yourself.

The old story kept you safe once. But now? Now you get to choose a new one—one that honors both your incredible perceptiveness AND your right to verify what you're sensing.

Understanding the Hidden Face of Depression in Women with ADHD

For many women with ADHD, depression doesn't always look like sadness—it shows up as perfectionism. Research shows that perfectionism in ADHD is deeply linked to fear of failure, disappointing others, and vulnerability to anxiety and depression. Women with ADHD often become overly critical of themselves, fearing rejection based on perceived shortcomings, which directly impacts self-esteem.

When matters of the heart are involved, this perfectionism intensifies. The constant second-guessing—Did I say the right thing? Did I misread that? Am I too much?—becomes a relentless internal critic that erodes self-worth over time. Girls and women with ADHD face societal expectations that drive them to mask symptoms through perfectionistic behaviors, and this self-criticism fuels both anxiety and depression.

In relationships, this perfectionism isn't about having impossibly high standards for yourself—it's about judging yourself more harshly for not meeting them. Each perceived misstep, each moment of uncertainty, becomes evidence in a story of "not good enough."

But here's what research shows: this story can be rewritten. A 2021 study in Japanese Psychological Research found that women who participated in narrative therapy groups focused on re-authoring their stories experienced new understanding of themselves, forward-looking perspectives on life, and measurable reductions in depression. When women learned to separate their perception (accurate) from their interpretation (often distorted by old protective stories), they found freedom from the perfectionism trap.

The New Story Framework

Trust your perception. That signal you're picking up? It's real. Your sensitivity is a gift, not a flaw. You notice things others miss. That's valuable.

Question the automatic meaning. The story your brain instantly adds—"this means rejection, this means I'm not enough, this means danger"—that's old wiring. It's not truth. It's interpretation based on outdated protective programming.

Give yourself permission to inquire. This is where the real healing happens. Practice asking: "Hey, I noticed a shift in your energy. What's going on for you?"

Notice the wording: for you. Not "what did I do?" Not "are you mad at me?" Just genuine curiosity about their internal experience.

Will this feel scary at first? Probably. The old programming will scream that asking is dangerous. But here's what you'll discover: most of the time, their answer has nothing to do with you. They're stressed about work. They're worried about their mom. They're hungry. They're processing something from earlier.

And when it IS about something in the relationship? You'll know. You can address it directly instead of drowning in assumptions.

Gratitude and Compassion as Tools

This rewriting process isn't about forcing positivity or gaslighting yourself into believing "everything is fine." It's about bringing both gratitude and compassion to your experience:

Gratitude for:

• The sensitivity that kept you safe and makes you deeply perceptive

• Your capacity to notice the difference between signal (real) and story (interpretation)

• Your courage to learn a new way of being in relationships

Compassion for:

• Your younger self who needed that protective story

• The learning curve as you practice inquiry instead of assumption

• The moments when the old pattern still shows up (because it will—that's normal)

What You Can and Can't Control

Here's the empowering distinction that changes everything:

You CAN control:

• The story you tell yourself about what you perceive

• Whether you choose to inquire or assume

• How you respond to your own emotions with kindness

• The meaning you make of your experiences

You CAN'T control:

• Other people's internal states or moods

• Whether someone is having a difficult moment

• The past and what happened there

• How quickly this new pattern becomes natural

Right here, right now, you get to choose a story that empowers you instead of one that keeps you small and afraid.

Ready to Take the Next Step?

Understanding these patterns is the first step. But actually rewiring them? That takes support, practice, and often guidance from someone who understands the neurodivergent experience.

If you're ready to explore rewriting the narratives that no longer serve you, I invite you to join me for a free 15-minute consultation call. Together we can explore whether now is the right time in your life to seek support in rewriting the past in order to create a brighter future.

You're not too sensitive. You're not broken. You're perceptive, you're feeling, and you're ready for a new story—one where your sensitivity becomes your strength.

Schedule your free consultation here

References

Bunford, N., Evans, S. W., & Wymbs, F. (2015). ADHD and emotion dysregulation among children and adolescents. Clinical Child and Family Psychology Review, 18(3), 185-217.

Karibwende, F., Niyonsenga, J., Nyirinkwaya, S., Hitayezu, I., Sebuhoroo, C., Sebatukura, G. S., Ntete, J. M., & Mutabaruka, J. (2022). A randomized controlled trial evaluating the effectiveness of narrative therapy on resilience of orphaned and abandoned children fostered in SOS children's village. European Journal of Psychotraumatology, 13(1), 2152111. https://doi.org/10.1080/20008066.2022.2152111

Koganei, K. (2021). Women's narrative in a narrative therapy‐based group: A qualitative study. Japanese Psychological Research, 63(4), 326-338. https://doi.org/10.1111/jpr.12326

Quinn, P. O., & Madhoo, M. (2014). A review of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder in women and girls: Uncovering this hidden diagnosis. The Primary Care Companion for CNS Disorders, 16(3). https://doi.org/10.4088/PCC.13r01596

Shaw, P., Stringaris, A., Nigg, J., & Leibenluft, E. (2014). Emotion dysregulation in attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. American Journal of Psychiatry, 171(3), 276-293. https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.ajp.2013.13070966

Surman, C. B., Biederman, J., Spencer, T., Miller, C. A., McDermott, K. M., & Faraone, S. V. (2013). Understanding deficient emotional self-regulation in adults with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder: A controlled study. ADHD Attention Deficit and Hyperactivity Disorders, 5(3), 273-281.