Why moments of disconnection can feel so intense – and how we can begin to understand them
14 April – written by Katrin Kemmerzehl – Blog
Relationships in all their forms can be some of the most meaningful parts of our lives and also some of the most complicated. Even in close, caring connections, there can be moments of uncertainty.
We misunderstand each other. We misread tone. We wonder what someone meant, or how we came across.
Sometimes, these moments are not about one person misreading the other, but about two different ways of communicating not quite meeting. At times, being in relationship can feel exhausting.
The philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre explored how being seen by others can stir up something uncomfortable in us, such as a sense of being evaluated, misunderstood, or defined in ways we can’t fully control (Sartre, 1943/2003).
His well-known phrase, “hell is other people,” is often taken at face value. In his work, he was pointing to something more nuanced: How do I exist, and feel secure in myself, when I am also seen through someone else’s eyes?
When Small Moments Start to Feel Bigger
These questions don’t only appear in big or dramatic moments. Often, they show up in our everyday life. Sometimes, it’s something small.
You send a message. You notice it’s been read. There’s no reply, at least not yet.
At first, it doesn’t seem like much. People are busy. Life moves on. But after a while, you might find yourself thinking back to what you wrote. Wondering how it came across. Whether it sounded a certain way, or landed differently than you intended.
By the time a reply comes, if it does, the feeling may already be there. A subtle, familiar sense that something in the connection has shifted.
For some people, especially those who identify as neurodivergent (including autistic, ADHD and AuDHD individuals), these moments can feel especially intense or hard to make sense of in the moment.
Often because similar experiences may have carried meaning before, where it wasn’t always clear what was happening, or where things stood.
Not Just About Rejection
What we often call rejection sensitivity isn’t always about rejection itself. It can be more about how moments of possible disconnection are felt and made sense of.
Sometimes, something quite small can suddenly feel much bigger. There might be a subtle shift that’s hard to explain, but difficult to ignore, a sense that something between you and the other person doesn’t feel as steady as it did a moment ago.
You might find yourself replaying a conversation afterwards, or noticing a change in someone’s tone, even if you can’t put your finger on what’s different.
Research suggests there can be a few different layers to these experiences. For some people, emotions can arise quickly and feel intense, and once something has landed, it may take longer to settle again (Shaw et al., 2014).
At the same time, many neurodivergent people carry a history of being misunderstood or not fully met in relationships, which can shape how safe or steady connection feels with another person (Hull et al., 2020).
So when something shifts between you and someone else, even in a small way, it can feel significant not only because of how strongly it’s felt in the moment, but also because of what similar moments have come to mean over time.
The Past in the Present
From a psychodynamic perspective, these moments are rarely just about the present. They can carry something older, shaped by earlier relational experiences that may not always be fully conscious (McWilliams, 2011).
Even a pause, a silence, or something small changing today can echo earlier experiences of disconnection:
- waiting to be responded to
- not quite knowing where you stand
- feeling unsure if you’re “getting it right”
These experiences don’t always live in clear memory. But they can stay in the body, in how something feels.
So when uncertainty appears, the response can be immediate, and we might think that something has changed or isn’t right.
The Small Moments Where It Shows Up
Rejection sensitivity tends to live in everyday life. Moments of disconnection, misunderstanding, or perceived distance can feel particularly charged, sometimes carrying a weight that seems larger than the situation itself.
You might recognise it in moments like:
- Leaving a conversation and thinking about it hours later
- Not being invited somewhere and feeling a drop inside
- Receiving feedback and finding it hard to let go of
- Sensing a shift in someone, even if nothing has been said
This sensitivity often becomes more relational, showing up in friendships, dating, work environments, parenting, and family roles.
Parenting and social spaces
If you’re a parent, moments with other parents can sometimes feel like a balancing act.
You might notice other parents chatting in groups and feeling unsure how, or whether, to join.
Standing at the school gate, you might wonder: Did I say the wrong thing? Did I come across as awkward? Why did that conversation end so quickly?
These are small moments, but they can carry a sense of pressure: to fit in, to get it right, to not stand out in the wrong way.
Family dynamics
In families, things can feel even more layered: a brief comment from a relative, a change in tone, a misunderstanding that isn’t quite cleared up.
You might find yourself thinking: Did I upset them? Have I done something wrong?
Even when nothing explicit has been said. Because family relationships often carry a long history, reactions can feel stronger, and harder to place.
Work and everyday interactions
At work, feeling sensitive to rejection can show up in lots of small, everyday ways, around feedback, in interactions with colleagues, in meetings, or in more social moments.
It might be an email that feels a bit short, a comment that lingers, a meeting where you spoke and aren’t quite sure how it was received, or a social situation that leaves you wondering where you stand.
Again, these are ordinary situations. But they don’t always feel ordinary from the inside.
How sensitivity to disconnection develops
These experiences often evolve over time, gradually taking shape in different ways.
For some people, earlier in life there may be a persistent sense of being different, without quite having the words for it. It can feel as though something is “off,” without knowing why.
Later on, this may become more defined. What once felt like a general sense of difference can begin to show up more clearly in relationships, in how we notice and respond to how we’re received, how others react to us, and how safe connection feels.
Erik Erikson described life as shaped by questions of identity and belonging. These questions don’t disappear as we grow, they usually deepen. For many neurodivergent people, they can remain close to the surface.
The complexities of relationships
It’s often in close relationships that these patterns become most visible.
There can be moments when something doesn’t quite settle, even when nothing obvious has gone wrong. You might find yourself going over an interaction, noticing a tone, or wondering how something was received. The feeling can linger in a way that’s hard to fully explain.
Often, it’s not only about what happened in that moment. It can feel as though something else has come with it, something familiar, even if it’s difficult to put into words.
At the same time, the other person may feel unsure how to respond or reassure without it feeling like pressure, or how to stay close without getting it wrong.
In relational and psychodynamic approaches, relationships are understood as spaces where both people bring their histories, sensitivities, and ways of protecting themselves (Benjamin, 2004).
Over time, certain patterns can begin to form.
One person may look for reassurance, while the other feels unsure and pulls back. Without meaning to, this can create more distance, and the sense of disconnection grows.
Not because either person is doing anything wrong, but because something is happening between them.
What happens between us
Irvin Yalom wrote about how much of our emotional life unfolds in the space between people. We are constantly noticing, interpreting, and responding (Yalom, 2002).
A pause might mean very little to one person, and a great deal to another. But once meaning forms, it can feel real and convincing. Without realising it, we can find ourselves in familiar places: waiting, wondering, trying to hold onto connection or stepping back to protect ourselves.
Seen this way, what’s often called rejection sensitivity can be understood as a form of relational sensitivity, something that takes shape in connection with others.
A more compassionate way of seeing it
Instead of asking, ‘Why am I like this?’, we can reflect, ‘What has this been like for me?’ – moving from judgment to understanding.
From this perspective, relational sensitivity isn’t a flaw. It has developed in response to real experiences and is a way of trying to stay connected, even when connection has felt uncertain.
This is where self-compassion can begin to soften things. Kristin Neff describes self-compassion as meeting ourselves with kindness, especially in moments of difficulty (Neff, 2011):
“This hurts.”
“Of course this matters to me.”
“I don’t have to turn this against myself.”
How counselling can help
Counselling offers a space to explore and understand these experiences at your own pace.
Because therapy itself is a relationship, these patterns can show up there too: wondering what the therapist thinks, noticing moments of closeness or distance, feeling unsure, and then finding a way to speak about it.
Over time, something different can begin to happen. Disconnection doesn’t have to mean that something has gone wrong. It can become something that can be spoken about, understood, and repaired.
As Irvin Yalom suggests, it is often through this kind of relational experience that change begins.
A hopeful perspective
Relational sensitivity can feel painful and confusing. But it also points to something important: a deep sensitivity to connection, a wish to belong, a desire to be seen and understood. These are not things to lose.
With time, understanding, and supportive relationships, it can become possible for these moments to feel less overwhelming, less defining, and more like something you can gently notice and move through.
If any of this feels familiar, you are very welcome to get in touch.
References
- Benjamin, J. (2004). Beyond doer and done to: An intersubjective view of thirdness. Psychoanalytic Quarterly, 73(1), 5–46.
- Erikson, E. H. (1950). Childhood and society. W. W. Norton & Company.
- Hull, L., Petrides, K. V., & Mandy, W. (2020). The female autism phenotype and camouflaging: A narrative review. Review Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, 7(4), 306–317.
- McWilliams, N. (2011). Psychoanalytic diagnosis: Understanding personality structure in the clinical process (2nd ed.). Guilford Press.
- Neff, K. (2011). Self-compassion: The proven power of being kind to yourself. William Morrow.
- Sartre, J.-P. (2003). Being and nothingness (H. E. Barnes, Trans.). Routledge. (Original work published 1943)
- Shaw, P., Stringaris, A., Nigg, J., & Leibenluft, E. (2014). Emotion dysregulation in attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. American Journal of Psychiatry, 171(3), 276–293.
- Yalom, I. D. (2002). The gift of therapy: An open letter to a new generation of therapists and their patients. HarperCollins.
Katrin Kemmerzehl
I am a qualified psychotherapeutic counsellor in Newcastle upon Tyne.
Please get in touch if you’re interested in arranging a consultation.