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I get angry very easily. I’ll admit it. It doesn’t take much — a tone of voice, a dismissive comment, a small criticism — and suddenly, I can feel it bubbling up inside me. My chest tightens, my face gets hot, and before I even know what’s happening, I’m reacting.
For a long time, I hated that part of myself. I thought it made me difficult, sensitive, or hard to love. But the more I’ve learned about myself — especially after my diagnoses — the more I understand where it comes from.
My anger isn’t really about being mad. It’s about feeling hurt. Anytime I experience even the slightest rejection or criticism, I immediately go into defense mode. It’s like my brain flips a switch and says, “You need to protect yourself before they hurt you.”
It’s not that I want to lash out. It’s that I don’t want to feel small or unseen ever again. I’ve always been a sensitive soul. When I was younger, if someone criticized me, I’d either shut down or fight back — not because I was trying to be rude, but because it hurt too much to sit with it. I’ve since learned that this is common for people like me — people with Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD), ADHD, and other forms of neurodivergence.
When you’ve spent most of your life feeling misunderstood or “too much,” even small moments of disapproval can feel earth-shattering. It’s not just emotional, it’s physical. My body tenses, my heart pounds, my thoughts spiral.
That reaction used to control me. I’d beat myself up for being “overly emotional.” But now, I try to see it for what it really is, it’s a protective response from a nervous system that’s been on high alert for too long.
Anger has layers. Underneath mine, there’s often sadness, fear, or exhaustion. Sometimes I’m not angry at all — I’m overstimulated, burnt out, or emotionally drained. But my body doesn’t always know the difference.
These days, when I feel that fire rising, I try to pause. I ask myself: “Am I actually angry… or am I hurting?” Most of the time, it’s the latter. And once I realize that, I can give myself what I actually need — space, quiet, rest, or simply compassion.
“Sometimes anger is just sadness with armor on."--Unknown
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