For most of my teen and even adult life, dating was confusing, intense, and emotionally exhausting in ways I couldn’t really explain. I didn’t understand why I could feel so deeply connected to someone so quickly, or why a delayed text or a change in tone could send me spiraling into shame, anxiety, and self-blame.
I told myself all the time that I was “too sensitive,” “too needy,” “too much.”
What I didn’t know then was that I was trying to make my way through the dating world, dealing with two things that in a way were working against me: limerence and Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD). Both of these are strongly connected to neurodivergence and, in my case, undiagnosed AuDHD that wasn’t diagnosed until I was 56.
Learning more about what was happening in my brain
Discovering these things didn’t magically fix my dating life. But it gave me a greater sense of compassion for myself. And it gave me clarity about what was going on in my brain.
Limerence was the first thing I uncovered. But what is that? Limerence is an intense, all-consuming emotional attachment to someone. It is not about just having a crush or feeling excited about someone new. When I experienced this, my nervous system didn’t just like someone…it latched on.
Suddenly, this person felt essential to my life and my emotional safety. My mind created make-believe futures, gave deep meaning to things that didn’t exist, and gave me a sense that things were fated that weren’t actually true. Every interaction felt absolutely electric. Every sign of interest was sheer bliss. And every moment of distance was completely devastating to me.
Limerence made dating feel both electric…and unbearable.
The RSD connection
And then I learned about Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria (RSD). RSD is not just “being afraid of rejection.” It’s an overwhelming and intense emotional response to rejection (perceived or actual). This rejection is deeply painful. For me, rejection didn’t just hurt my feelings. It felt like confirmation of my worst fears about myself…that I was somehow a monster, and unworthy of being loved.
A simple thing like a text left unanswered didn’t feel neutral to me. It felt like I was being abandoned. Someone pulling away didn’t feel like incompatibility. It felt like I had done something horribly wrong to turn them away.
And when limerence and RSD joined forces, dating became emotionally impossible. Limerence increased my emotional investment to unhealthy levels, while RSD made every slight change feel catastrophic. I wasn’t just dating people…I was emotionally regulating through them. And that’s a heavy, impossible role for another human to try to fill.
Looking back, I can see how often I overextended myself in relationships. I ignored red flags, stayed WAY too long, and tried to be “easygoing” while everything inside of me was screaming for reassurance. I confused intensity with intimacy and chemistry with safety. And honestly, it was absolutely exhausting!
And because I didn’t understand what was going on in my brain, every ending became my own personal failure.
Learning about limerence and RSD in my 50’s was heartbreaking, but also liberating. It was heartbreaking because I could see how many years I spent thinking I was broken. Liberating, because I finally understood that my reactions weren’t character flaws, but they were nervous system responses.
My brain was trying its hardest to seek connection, safety, and regulation in a world that never taught me how to do that more gently.
My dating life today
Today, my dating life looks very different. Not because I’ve “fixed” myself, but because I’ve slowed down. I pay attention to my body and notice when fantasy starts to take over. I don’t rush emotional intimacy. And I remind myself all the time that rejection isn’t a measure of my worth…it’s just feedback. I’ve also learned that life will not end because someone decides they don’t want to be in my life. I would rather have people in my life who love me…and not attempt to keep people around who don’t.
I’m learning that a healthy relationship feels calmer than I used to believe. It feels steady, not all-consuming. It inspires curiosity, not obsession. And it makes me feel safe, not constantly activating my fear of loss.
If you identify with any of this and if dating has felt intense, confusing, or painful in ways you couldn’t explain, I want you to know this…you’re not weak, broken, or unlovable. You may have a neurodivergent brain that is wired for connection in a world that doesn’t always meet you where you are.
This journey hasn’t erased my desire for love. It gave me the ability to give myself some grace while I learn how to love and be loved…without losing myself in the process.
And that, for me, has been the real healing.
