When I was a young and inexperienced attorney at my first law firm, I suffered from paroxysms of my own. worry just walking the corridors. Who will I face – a senior lawyer, a name partner? Was the outfit I wore that day professional enough to pass the meeting? How has my work history been so far? Will I survive their cross-examination, however brief?
Most of the time, the lawyers I passed didn’t even look at me. That’s when the real self-condemnation begins. I went back to my office and closed the door against the cruel, cruel world. Surely they must have heard something negative about me. They must have averted their eyes so as not to show their obvious dislike and displeasure. Or on really bad days: They should fire me.
I finally got in therapy because I had a nagging, intermittent feeling that life shouldn’t be so hard. I was convinced there had to be a better way, and I was going to find it—even if I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone at my law firm that I was seeking professional help for my mental health. It was the eighties, after all, and it wasn’t done by ambitious young entertainment lawyers, at least.
I learned a lot about myself during the first few years of therapy. I realized how terrified I was of disappointing people, including (most importantly) myself. I held myself to ridiculously high standards and assumed everyone else did the same for me. Avoiding rejection or criticism of any kind can be nearly impossible; but i tried it very well. No wonder the world has rewarded my efforts – however miserable they have made me.
I remember being frustrated with my bad feelings because I didn’t think they had escalated to a clearly diagnosable level – which would at least justify the time and money I put into my training, minus the risk at work. From what I read about “real”. depressionafflicted people could not sleep, eat or pay attention to anything; Whereas I always wanted to sleep, ate things that weren’t fixed, and suffered from every little thing.
Then one day my doctor said these magic words: “I believe you have atypical depression,” he said. “It is characterized by the desire to oversleep and overeat rejection sensitivity“.
My ears, my spirit, my hopes have been restored. “Wait, what was the third thing you said?” I asked.
“Rejection sensitivity.”
He notes that this is an excessive, even irrational sensitivity to criticism, which is often accompanied by attempts to avoid the appearance of real or imagined rejection.
Ever had a talented artist draw your likeness? That’s what my doctor did that day, just with words. Beautiful, in scientific terminology, meaning that other people should do the same – I wasn’t the only one. It wasn’t a natural flaw I was alone in the universe with. It meant there was hope.
Real, transformative hope slowly emerged, one baby step at a time. My therapist did every test fantasy I panicked about rejection. I remember one of our most important experiences. I had to walk the halls as always, not making eye contact with whomever I passed, but I did not hesitate; then come back to my office and carefully record what happened to that person. Most of the time, nothing happened – good or bad. Nothing.
“It’s kind of depressing,” I told my therapist. “I admit, they didn’t treat me badly, but they didn’t even register me.”
“Maybe they are busy with their own thoughts, with their own lives. Don’t think of it as rejection,” he says. “Think of it as indifference.”
It hit me between the eyes, sometimes like a good truth. It never occurred to me that they might not think about me at all.
Rejection Sensitivity Essential Readings
Over the years my diagnosis has changed from atypical depression bipolar disorder. But that doesn’t mean rejection sensitivity is no longer one of my symptoms. Surprisingly, not much research has been done on this feature in bipolar disorder. Which several studies confirm what I expected: bipolar patients are very sensitive to rejection even in remission (Cognit Ther Res. 2013 Jun 6;37(6):1169–1178.)
In any case, the evolution of my diagnosis did not make the work I did earlier in therapy any easier. “Good indifference” remains two of the sweetest words I know. They have given me the ability to function socially, to live with others in a world that is sometimes unthinking and sometimes not. They are a small but powerful testament to the amazing power of therapy.
