Rejection-Sensitive Dysphoria

Yesterday morning, I went to a meeting of other church leaders from across the city. I’d cancelled most of my morning routines and shuffled work around to go; I made it a priority to get there. It was a prayer meeting, and I think that praying with other church leaders is really important. But a delay dropping off the kids at school, and then heavy traffic meant that I arrived at 9:45 for a 9:30 start. I got to the room, I looked in and saw that they were sitting in a circle talking, that it was a closed shape, there weren’t any empty chairs and the door was shut.

I immediately felt an overwhelming expectation of rejection. I didn’t go in. I stayed outside the room for a few minutes, then walked off and went to a coffee shop where I listened to a podcast for a bit. I never made it into the meeting, but I spent just as much time as I would have spent if I’d actually been, and I felt much worse afterwards.

What was going on inside me? It wasn’t Imposter Syndrome. If I’d been on time, I’d have gone in, and I’m fairly confident that if I’d been there I would have been at least average at church leader skills and above average at church leader experience.

It wasn’t shame – if I’d been invited to speak to the group at 10am, I’d have been absolutely fine going in.

I’m fairly sure it’s what is called Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria. Essentially, I am so used to feeling rejected that I’ve got something a bit like PTSD from it, and my rejection meters are on crazy sensitive mode.

It’s not a problem in my day-to-day work. I’m the vicar, and being vicar means that I get an automatic pass for a lot of situations. It wasn’t a problem when I was a teacher, for the same reasons.

But once I get outside the role I’m licensed for, it can be a real difficulty with job interviews and so on. Before now, I’ve applied for a job, been given an interview and then pulled out because I didn’t think I could cope with being rejected by the interview panel.

It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me on paper. I’m a highly qualified experienced professional middle-aged white guy with a wife and two kids. And yet, if I’m having a bad day, I still struggle to walk into a room of my peers if the door is closed and the seats are laid out in a way that doesn’t look like there’s somewhere obvious for me to sit.

I think it’s because I’m so used to being rejected, ignored and made to feel unwelcome (usually unintentionally) that I’ve come to expect it in many fairly normal situations, and I’d rather avoid those situations than go through it again.