Sensitive to Rejection: Surviving Academic Criticism Without Giving Up

Academia has an odd way of making your worth feel measurable, by grades, publications, and whether or not you get into grad school. For most people, feedback or rejection is discouraging but manageable. While I often connect these feelings to my experiences with BPD, rejection sensitivity isn’t unique to one diagnosis. It can show up in ADHD, social anxiety, trauma, and even depression, basically anywhere our self-worth feels tied to being accepted or validated.

For many, academic performance has never felt insignificant. Each grade represents more than a measure of achievement; it can feel like a reflection of ability and potential. A mark lower than expected does not simply indicate areas for improvement. A B can feel like a sign of inadequacy, while a C may feel like evidence that one does not belong in the field. Even when guidance or reassurance is offered, the grades themselves carry authority, suggesting an objective evaluation of capability.

It is not only individual marks but the overall pattern of performance that weighs heavily. GPA, class rank, and cumulative results can be interpreted as indicators of prospects, particularly for graduate study. When these outcomes fall short of personal or perceived external expectations, they do not arrive as neutral information but as judgments about potential. The numbers can be internalized as confirmation of limitations and an inability to succeed. Even tentative remarks from faculty about readiness or suitability for advanced study are amplified by performance metrics, reinforcing a sense that achievement is being measured and found lacking. In this way, academic results can profoundly influence self-perception, creating pressure and doubt that extend far beyond the classroom.

The competitive nature of psychology makes this even harder. Everyone’s applying to grad school, joining labs, publishing papers, and presenting at conferences; it’s a constant reminder of how “behind” you are, even if you are very well not. I, for one, despite how much I do and accomplish, will feel like it is not enough. When you already struggle with rejection sensitivity, every comparison feels personal. Every missed opportunity feels like failure, and every piece of feedback feels like confirmation that maybe everyone else was right, ma

ybe you’re just not cut out for it.

The irony is that we enter this field because we care about people, about empathy, healing, and understanding the mind, yet the system we learn in can be anything but gentle. Feedback is often blunt, rejection letters impersonal, and success stories overrepresented. It can start to feel like the program values your output more than your well-being, your achievements more than your growth.

Research shows that people with BPD experience heightened emotional pain in response to criticism or rejection. One study found that after receiving negative feedback, participants with BPD were more likely to shut down or disengage rather than use it to improve. This reaction isn’t laziness or low self-discipline; it’s self-protection. When shame feels unbearable, quitting can seem safer than trying again.

I’ve been there more times than I’d like to admit. Getting a disappointing grade, missing a lab position, or hearing someone doubt my ability has, at times, made me want to give up completely. But over time, I’ve realized that those feelings, as intense as they are, don’t have to define what I do next. Sometimes I take a day to be upset. Sometimes I talk it out with a friend who reminds me that feedback and rejection don’t mean I’m incapable; they’re just part of the process everyone faces, even if mine feels louder and sharper.

What has helped me most is learning to reframe rejection not as a dead end but as a redirection. When someone says I’m “not fit” for something, I’ve started asking myself: Not fit according to who? Maybe they can’t see my potential through my self-doubt, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. Truthfully, you're only as capable as you allow yourself to be.

Some Evidence-Informed Approaches

• Acknowledge the emotional response. Simply identifying the emotion (“I’m feeling shame,” “I’m overwhelmed”) engages cognitive processing and reduces limbic reactivity. It’s a small way to regulate before you evaluate.

• Differentiate the work from the self. In academic settings, feedback is typically about the product, not the person. Treating critique as information about the assignment, rather than about one’s ability, helps reduce threat responses.

• Notice the urge to disengage. The feeling of “why bother trying?” after criticism is often less about apathy and more about self-protection. Stepping away reduces discomfort in the moment, but it also teaches the brain that withdrawal is the safest option. Even taking a minimal step—opening the document or rereading the instructions—can interrupt that cycle and keep you tethered to the task.

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• Create a “bridge” back to the work. Going straight from emotional overwhelm into full productivity isn’t always realistic. A transitional step, such as skimming comments, outlining a section, or reorganizing notes, keeps you engaged without demanding too much. These small bridge behaviours reduce all-or-nothing thinking and make it easier to return when your nervous system settles.

If you’re reading this as a psychology student who’s been told you’re not cut out for grad school, please know that one person’s opinion doesn’t get to decide your future.

Academia might not always feel like it was built for you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t carve your own place in it, one that allows for both ambition and compassion, both excellence and imperfection.