ADHD Speedrun #3: LOL. Rejected
Rejections, Cope, and Scooby Dooby Doo

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Rejections, Cope, and Scooby Dooby Doo

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Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD) is one of those things that sounds made up until it happens to you. If you have ADHD, you probably know the drill: one ignored text, one offhand comment, one lukewarm response to something you poured your soul into—and suddenly it feels like the universe personally filed for divorce against you. No lawyers, no alimony, just straight-up abandonment.
The worst part? It’s not just emotional. The pain is real. Studies suggest that the brain of someone with ADHD processes rejection the way it would physical pain. The anterior cingulate cortex—the part responsible for emotional regulation—essentially short-circuits, sending distress signals all over the place. It’s like your brain’s firewall is missing, so every rejection—big or small—burns straight through your defenses.
I wish I could tell you I learned about RSD through a textbook or a deep dive into neuroscience journals. But I learned it the old-fashioned way: by getting pummeled by it.
Back in 2022, I was raising capital for a startup. In theory, I was prepared for rejection. I had read the founder war stories. I had mentally rehearsed my responses to polite "we’ll pass for now" emails. What I was not prepared for was getting rejected sixty times over fifty-odd days.
Sixty. That’s more than the number of matches I’ve gotten on dating apps. More than the number of unread WhatsApp messages from my extended family. More than the number of times my mom has reminded me to eat vegetables in a month.
Each rejection felt like someone was slowly erasing me from existence. I kept telling myself it was just business, that these investors weren’t rejecting me, just the business model. But my brain wasn’t having it.
At rejection #15, I told myself this was normal. At rejection #30, I started questioning my entire life trajectory. At rejection #45, I began to wonder if I was just fundamentally unfit to exist in this world. At rejection #60, I didn’t even have the energy to check my inbox anymore. The spiral was complete. The depression that followed was long, dark, and existential. I stopped working out. Stopped sleeping well. Stopped believing in anything, except the certainty that I had failed.
And yet, looking back, I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything. Because it taught me how to fail properly.
Rejection is inevitable. But letting it dictate your self-worth? That part is optional. Here’s what helped me claw my way out:
For the past two years, I’ve been practicing Stoicism. Not in a "cold shower at 5 AM" way, but in a "reminding myself daily that I control my response to events, not the events themselves" way. One of the core Stoic ideas is that external events have no power over you—only your perception of them does.
So instead of seeing rejection as a referendum on my worth, I started seeing it as data. If 60 investors said no, what was the pattern? Was it the pitch? The business model? The market? Was it actually about me, or was my brain just catastrophizing? (Spoiler: It was always the latter.)
If Stoicism doesn’t work for you, find something that does. Existentialism, Buddhism, Taoism—every major philosophy has some version of "you are not your failures." The key is finding one that makes sense to you and committing to practicing it, especially when your brain is screaming otherwise.
The most successful people I know have failed more than anyone else.
Take Reid Hoffman. Before LinkedIn, he launched a social network called SocialNet. It flopped. Steve Jobs got kicked out of his own company. Elon Musk got ousted from PayPal. These people didn’t let failure define them. They used it as fuel. Because the reality is, every failure is an iteration. It teaches you what doesn’t work. It sharpens your instincts. It forces you to adapt.
If you only succeed, you’re not actually learning. You’re just coasting.
Rejection feels like the end of the world because we assume we’re running out of time. But life is long. If your startup fails, you build another one. If you get fired, you find a new path. If someone doesn’t love you back, you move on.
Nothing is final except death (and even then, some philosophers would argue otherwise). Everything else? Just a chapter in the book, not the ending.
The biggest lesson I learned from those 60 rejections? Rejection is a skill. The more you experience it, the better you get at handling it. It never stops hurting, but it stops breaking you.
So if you’re struggling with RSD, here’s what I’ll tell you: Keep going. Keep failing. Keep learning. Keep finding ways to make peace with the fact that rejection is just part of life’s algorithm. And most importantly—never, ever let it stop you from showing up again.
Because sometimes, the best things in life only happen when you refuse to stay down.
Yours Lovingly,
Frodo Mercury