What Is Rejection Sensitivity?

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Rejection sensitivity, an extreme vulnerability to rejection or criticism, can be a symptom of mental illness.

People who suffer from this painful trait often perceive rejection where none exists.

Realizing that others may be indifferent, not critical, can be the starting point of healing.

When I was a young and inexperienced associate attorney at my very first law firm, I used to suffer paroxysms of anxiety just walking through the halls. Who would I encounter—a senior lawyer, a name partner? Was what I was wearing that day professional enough to pass muster? How was my work reputation thus far? Would I survive their certain cross-examination, however brief it might be?

Much of the time, the lawyers I passed didn’t even give me a glance. And that’s when the real self-recrimination would start. I’d scurry back to my office and shut the door against the cruel, cruel world. Obviously, they must have heard something negative about me. They must have averted their eyes so as not to show their obvious dislike and disapproval. Or on really bad days: they must be about to fire me.

I finally went into therapy because I had this nagging, intermittent feeling that life wasn’t supposed to be this hard. I was convinced there had to be a better way, and I was going to find it—even if I didn’t dare tell anyone at my law firm that I was seeking professional help for my mental health. It was the eighties, after all, and that just wasn’t done—at least, not by ambitious young entertainment lawyers.

I learned a lot about myself in those first few years of therapy. I realized how terrified I was of disappointing people, including (most importantly) myself. I maintained ridiculously high standards and assumed that everyone else had them of me, too. Avoiding rejection or criticism of any kind might be next to impossible; but I gave it a damn good try. The world, not surprisingly, rewarded my efforts—however miserable they made me.

I remember feeling bad about my bad feelings, because I didn’t think they rose to a recognizably diagnosable state—one that would at least justify the time and money I was spending on my sessions, not to mention the risk I was taking at work. From what I had read about “real” depression, afflicted people couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and didn’t care about anything; whereas I just wanted to sleep all the time, ate anything that wasn’t securely pinned down, and agonized over every single little thing.

Then one day, my doctor spoke these magic words: “I believe you have atypical depression,” he said. “It’s characterized by a desire to oversleep and overeat, as well as extreme rejection sensitivity.”

My ears, my psyche, my hopes perked up. “Wait, what was that third thing you said?” I asked.

“Rejection sensitivity.”

He explained that it was an inordinate, even irrational sensitivity to criticism, which was often accompanied by attempts to avoid any semblance of rejection whatsoever, real or imagined.

Have you ever had a talented artist draw your likeness? That’s what my doctor did that day, only in words. In beautiful, scientific terminology that meant other people must act this way too—I wasn’t the only one. It wasn’t an inherent character flaw that I alone in the universe possessed. It meant that there was hope.

What Is Rejection Sensitivity?

Take our Rejection Sensitivity Test

Find a therapist near me

Real, transformative hope came about slowly, baby step-by-baby step. My therapist painstakingly put to the test every fantasy I conjured about being rejected. I remember one of our most salient experiments. I had to walk the halls as usual, not seeking eye contact with whoever I passed but not flinching from it, either; then come back to my office and keep a careful record of what happened next with that person. The vast majority of the time, nothing happened—either good or bad. Nothing.

“That’s kind of depressing,” I told my therapist. “I’ll admit, they didn’t act meanly towards me, but they didn’t even register me, either.”

“Most likely they were caught up in their own thoughts, their own lives. Don’t think of it as rejection,” she said. “Think of it as benign indifference.”

That hit me right between the eyes, the way a good truth sometimes can. It simply hadn’t occurred to me that they might not be thinking of me at all.

Over the years, my diagnosis changed from atypical depression to bipolar disorder. But that didn’t mean rejection sensitivity was no longer one of my symptoms. Surprisingly, there hasn’t been much research regarding this trait in bipolar disorder. What few studies exist confirm what I expected: bipolar patients are highly sensitive to rejection, even during periods of remission (Cognit Ther Res. 2013 Jun 6;37(6):1169–1178.)

In any event, the evolution of my diagnosis didn’t mitigate the work I had previously done in therapy. “Benign indifference” remains two of the loveliest words I know. They’ve given me the ability to function socially, to co-exist with others in a sometimes thoughtless, sometimes not world. They are a small but mighty testament to the awesome power of therapy.

Tommy H Ng, Sheri L Johnson. "Rejection Sensitivity is Associated with Quality of Life, Psychosocial Outcome, and the Course of Depression in Euthymic Patients With Bipolar Disorder," Cognitive Therapy and Research. 2013 Jun 6;37(6):11769-1178

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