Complex Regional Pain Syndrome

Recently, I was at a small get-together with close friends. They’re people who I love and trust deeply. The night started out lighthearted, full of laughter, shared stories, and the comfortable commotion that happens when everyone’s voices overlap. But somewhere in the middle of it all, something shifted.

A couple of people, including myself, were sitting in one of the rooms chatting and having fun. Then, all of a sudden, someone started praising one of my best friends, talking about how much they appreciated being around people who “have their life together”—people who aren’t lazy, who stay motivated, and who just handles things well.

I felt like the words were directed solely at me, a subtle dig about not measuring up. My brain immediately twisted the comment into the worst possible version of myself. In that moment, my body ached and felt weak. Tears came before I could stop them, and I had to step outside to find a space to be alone and regain my balance.

I knew I was overthinking it. Logically, it wasn’t an attack. But that didn’t stop the flood of self-doubt from rushing in. Later in the evening, when I left to say goodbye, another comment triggered the same reaction. Someone asked about what I’m doing with my life and said, “I’m glad you’re writing because otherwise I’d ask you what you’re doing?” I immediately interpreted it as criticism, and shame washed over me as if I weren’t measuring up to the standard of “success” others seemed to have.

That’s the thing about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD) — it doesn’t care about logic. It amplifies small moments until they feel like earthquakes. A single comment can send your nervous system spiraling, making you feel like you’ve failed some invisible test.

Physically, RSD hits hard. My chest tightens, my palms get clammy, my head feels foggy, and the tears come almost before I can process why. My body reacts as if I’ve just faced a threat, even when my mind knows there’s no danger. It’s exhausting, overwhelming, and intensely personal.

Experiencing moments like these is never easy. My body reacts before my mind can catch up, and my emotions feel bigger than the situation itself. But stepping outside, taking a few deep breaths, and allowing myself to feel — without judgment — is how I regain balance.

RSD may amplify small moments, but it also reminds me that I care — deeply — about connection, authenticity, and the energy I share with others. Learning to navigate it means noticing my triggers, creating space for myself, and practicing gentle self-talk.

It’s a work in progress, and some days are harder than others. But each time I step back, breathe, and honor my feelings, I reclaim a little more of my power and peace.

“Healing begins the moment we give ourselves permission to feel.” - Unknown

#MentalHealth #rejection sensitivity dysphoria #ASD #ADHD #Neurodiversity #Blog

My name is Kylie Pollan, and I am a survivor of domestic violence that occurred in Ellis County, Texas. After the assault, I began experiencing severe pain, swelling, and discoloration in my right leg. I sought help repeatedly from doctors and hospitals, including Baylor Scott & White, but despite clear symptoms and imaging showing injury, my pain was often dismissed or minimized. Instead of being heard and believed, I was told that what I felt “wasn’t that bad,” or that it was something I was creating in my mind. That experience broke my trust in a system that is supposed to protect victims and help them heal.

Over time, my condition worsened, and I was later diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS) — a debilitating nerve disorder often triggered by trauma. This diagnosis confirmed what I had been saying for months: my pain was real. Unfortunately, by the time doctors took me seriously, the damage had already progressed, leaving me with chronic pain, mobility struggles, and emotional trauma from both the violence and the medical neglect. I’ve since relocated to Oklahoma for safety and ongoing treatment, but my heart remains with the people of Ellis County who may still be suffering in silence.

I am now working to raise awareness about how often women’s pain is dismissed, particularly among survivors of abuse. Many victims are told their pain is emotional or exaggerated, when in reality, they are living with life-changing injuries. I don’t want what happened to me to happen to anyone else. I believe that by speaking out — through advocacy programs, support centers, and public awareness — we can help improve how medical professionals and systems respond to survivors.

I am reaching out in the hope that my story can be used to help others — whether through education, awareness campaigns, or local advocacy efforts. If there are opportunities to share my experience, participate in community outreach, or contribute to training programs for victim support or healthcare sensitivity, I would be honored to help. My goal is simple: to make sure that when the next woman says she’s in pain, she’s believed, treated with compassion, and given the care she deserves.#domesticviolencesurvivor #BreakTheSilence #believewomen #godsplannotmine #faiththroughhealing

Have you ever felt uncomfortable in your own skin? I have. For most of my life in fact. Growing up I always felt so out of place and distant from my peers. I was, and quite frankly still am, the quiet and shy person whose mind is constantly occupied by anxious thoughts, fear, doubt, and sometimes shame. For a long time, I was never comfortable being myself because I was afraid of harsh criticism. I was scared of judgment, rejection, and expressing my sensitivity. I had no idea why I felt so different. Little did I know there were underlying issues that would go undiagnosed for years.

When I was a child, I remember being so embarrassed by any form of attention. For my fourth birthday, and yes, I still vividly remember this, I cried and threw a tantrum because classmates and family members were singing me happy birthday. I recall the sheer panic and utter embarrassment from being so sensitive, so frustrated, so angry even. My cheeks were flushed, my heart was racing, and I could essentially feel a numbness wash over me. It was a near traumatic experience for me in the sense that I felt heavy guilt and shame for acting out the way that I did.

During my teenage years I would act out in rebel against conforming to society. I dressed in black, listened to heavy meatal, and ignored the system. Deep down, I felt lost. I didn’t know who I was. I felt like I created this persona of a happy go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality, I was experiencing extreme inner emotional pain. I never wanted to appear overly dramatic, or being too much to handle, so I would suppress my feelings, and bury them deeply, hoping they would never resurface. But the saying, ignorance is bliss, only lasts for so long. And when my mind gets too cluttered, those emotions come out screaming, and I mean screaming quite literally. I learned that you can only carry so much before having a meltdown.

Into early adulthood, I hit a wall. I experienced a deep, dark depression that caused me to disassociate from reality and drown in my sorrows. I spent years just lying around, moping and sobbing into oblivion. Something had triggered me. Perhaps it was the overwhelm of trying to fit in, or the constant overthinking that usually made my brain swell. Either way, it was a time in my life that I wish to forget.

After feeling like I hit rock bottom, I finally made the right decision for myself. I sought out professional help. I was always against the idea of medicating myself. I just never wanted to succumb to the typical myths, “you’ll feel like a zombie,” “It’ll change your personality,” etc. Growing up I never really knew too much about mental health. It wasn’t really acknowledged or taught in schools (at least from my experience). So, I decided to do a little more research. I learned that I resonated with a lot of mental health issues, and that I could finally pinpoint why I felt the way I did for so long.

I decided to meet with a psychiatrist to get to the bottom of my core issues. At first, I felt a little dismissed because I was only diagnosed with depression and anxiety, but I knew there was more to the story. But because I’m fearful of confrontation and speaking up for myself, I didn’t say anything. I was treated with medication, and I must say, it did help. It certainly didn’t erase depression or anxiety, but it was a small step toward healing.

After nearly a decade, I fought for myself to be evaluated for ADHD. I fought because I haven’t had the best of luck finding the right professional for me. So, sure enough when I was tested and diagnosed it all came together full circle. I had also self-diagnosed being on the spectrum because I carry a lot of the traits. But it was such a relief because I finally had the answers to what I had long been searching for, something that finally made sense.

Even though I was diagnosed later in life, I’ve found such a deeper connection to myself. At first, it’s somewhat difficult to take in, “Do I even know the real me?” I had been masking my whole life, and had created this character to play every single day just to blend in. It exhausted me. One day I realized that I was tired of holding up the mask. I decided to let it down, and I’ve never felt so free. I still mask in public sometimes, but when I’m by myself or around loved ones, I can breathe and just be me.

I’m more accepting of myself nowadays and I’m continually making growth, no matter how small. I’m healing one step at a time, and I’m getting to know myself all over again. What my likes and dislikes really are, what my strengths and weaknesses are. and what I truly want in life. Before this, I would always mimic others and adopt their interests as my own. Now, I feel more comfortable in my own skin, and I stand up for what I want, what I believe in, and the direction I want to go. I’m living life authentically, and for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.

“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about unbecoming everything that isn’t really you.”-Paulo Cahelo

#ADHD #MentalHealth #ASD #RSD #Depression #Anxiety

Have you ever felt uncomfortable in your own skin? I have. For most of my life in fact. Growing up I always felt so out of place and distant from my peers. I was, and quite frankly still am, the quiet and shy person whose mind is constantly occupied by anxious thoughts, fear, doubt, and sometimes shame. For a long time, I was never comfortable being myself because I was afraid of harsh criticism. I was scared of judgment, rejection, and expressing my sensitivity. I had no idea why I felt so different. Little did I know there were underlying issues that would go undiagnosed for years.

When I was a child, I remember being so embarrassed by any form of attention. For my fourth birthday, and yes, I still vividly remember this, I cried and threw a tantrum because classmates and family members were singing me happy birthday. I recall the sheer panic and utter embarrassment from being so sensitive, so frustrated, so angry even. My cheeks were flushed, my heart was racing, and I could essentially feel a numbness wash over me. It was a near traumatic experience for me in the sense that I felt heavy guilt and shame for acting out the way that I did.

During my teenage years I would act out in rebel against conforming to society. I dressed in black, listened to heavy meatal, and ignored the system. Deep down, I felt lost. I didn’t know who I was. I felt like I created this persona of a happy go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality, I was experiencing extreme inner emotional pain. I never wanted to appear overly dramatic, or being too much to handle, so I would suppress my feelings, and bury them deeply, hoping they would never resurface. But the saying, ignorance is bliss, only lasts for so long. And when my mind gets too cluttered, those emotions come out screaming, and I mean screaming quite literally. I learned that you can only carry so much before having a meltdown.

Into early adulthood, I hit a wall. I experienced a deep, dark depression that caused me to disassociate from reality and drown in my sorrows. I spent years just lying around, moping and sobbing into oblivion. Something had triggered me. Perhaps it was the overwhelm of trying to fit in, or the constant overthinking that usually made my brain swell. Either way, it was a time in my life that I wish to forget.

After feeling like I hit rock bottom, I finally made the right decision for myself. I sought out professional help. I was always against the idea of medicating myself. I just never wanted to succumb to the typical myths, “you’ll feel like a zombie,” “It’ll change your personality,” etc. Growing up I never really knew too much about mental health. It wasn’t really acknowledged or taught in schools (at least from my experience). So, I decided to do a little more research. I learned that I resonated with a lot of mental health issues, and that I could finally pinpoint why I felt the way I did for so long.

I decided to meet with a psychiatrist to get to the bottom of my core issues. At first, I felt a little dismissed because I was only diagnosed with depression and anxiety, but I knew there was more to the story. But because I’m fearful of confrontation and speaking up for myself, I didn’t say anything. I was treated with medication, and I must say, it did help. It certainly didn’t erase depression or anxiety, but it was a small step toward healing.

After nearly a decade, I fought for myself to be evaluated for ADHD. I fought because I haven’t had the best of luck finding the right professional for me. So, sure enough when I was tested and diagnosed it all came together full circle. I had also self-diagnosed being on the spectrum because I carry a lot of the traits. But it was such a relief because I finally had the answers to what I had long been searching for, something that finally made sense.

Even though I was diagnosed later in life, I’ve found such a deeper connection to myself. At first, it’s somewhat difficult to take in, “Do I even know the real me?” I had been masking my whole life, and had created this character to play every single day just to blend in. It exhausted me. One day I realized that I was tired of holding up the mask. I decided to let it down, and I’ve never felt so free. I still mask in public sometimes, but when I’m by myself or around loved ones, I can breathe and just be me.

I’m more accepting of myself nowadays and I’m continually making growth, no matter how small. I’m healing one step at a time, and I’m getting to know myself all over again. What my likes and dislikes really are, what my strengths and weaknesses are. and what I truly want in life. Before this, I would always mimic others and adopt their interests as my own. Now, I feel more comfortable in my own skin, and I stand up for what I want, what I believe in, and the direction I want to go. I’m living life authentically, and for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.

“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about unbecoming everything that isn’t really you.”-Paulo Cahelo

#ADHD #MentalHealth #ASD #RSD #Depression #Anxiety