If you’re anything like me, especially if you’ve arrived at an autism diagnosis a bit later in life (hello, fellow late-discoverers!), you might be familiar with a peculiar kind of exhaustion. It’s not just the ‘I need a nap’ kind, but something deeper, a weariness that settles in your bones. For ages, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and then, through my diagnosis, a new term swam into view: autistic masking.
Devon Price, in their brilliant book “Unmasking Autism,” puts it perfectly: “Masking is a common coping mechanism in which Autistic people hide their identifiably Autistic traits in order to fit in with societal norms, adopting a superficial personality at the expense of their mental health.” And honestly, reading that felt like someone had finally handed me a missing piece of my own puzzle. This post? Well, it’s me, tentatively stepping onto the path of understanding what this ‘masking’ business has meant for me, and what starting to ‘unmask’ might look like. It’s all very new, a bit wobbly, and definitely a journey.
The Weight of a Lifelong Performance
Imagine wearing a costume every single day. Not for a play, not for a party, but just to… exist. That’s a bit what masking can feel like. Devon Price also says, “Autistic people are born with the mask of neurotypicality pressed against our faces.” It becomes so ingrained, this performance of ‘normal,’ that figuring out where the mask ends and I begin is… well, it’s the million-dollar question at the moment, isn’t it? I’m only just beginning to explore this aspect of my life.
The sheer effort of it all is something else. That quote from Price about masking being “an exhausting performance that contributes to physical exhaustion, psychological burnout, depression, anxiety”? It hits home. Hard. Because, honestly, I’m tired. It’s a deep-seated tiredness that I’m only now starting to connect to this lifelong effort of, essentially, pretending.
Recognising the Mask
Now, here’s a funny thing – I’ve worn masks before. Growing up knowing I was gay but hiding it from the world? That was a heavy burden, a constant feeling of duplicity. I vividly remember the immense relief of coming out, of finally being honest with myself and everyone else. But that, in hindsight, felt like a simpler mask; it was about hiding a very clear and defined aspect of myself. My autistic mask, though? Oh, that’s a far more intricate, well-rehearsed, and frankly, sneakier beast. It’s woven into the very fabric of how I’ve learned to interact with the world.
Finding the Seams of the Mask
So, how am I even starting to spot it? It’s a bit like trying to see the air. But, slowly, with a lot of gentle curiosity (and a fair few podcasts on repeat!), I’m noticing things.
Little things, like certain repetitive movements I do – hello, stimming behaviours, I see you! Or my almost compulsive need to please others, to seek that external nod of approval. I’m noticing how I fawn, how I’m so incredibly compliant, just to avoid ruffling any feathers. You know, keep things smooth. Or so I thought.
Then there are the more public-facing things. When I’m out and about, I’ll often smile at passers-by, or nod and say hello. It’s automatic. But then, as soon as they’ve passed, I can literally feel my face just… drop. Back to neutral. It’s like the energy required for that brief performance is instantly switched off.
And here’s another pattern I’m exploring, one that’s full of contradictions. My diagnostic report indicated I have ADHD traits, and I’m beginning to wonder about this added complexity. I feel this constant push and pull within. There’s a part of me that thrives on systems, loves being organised, and craves the predictability of routine – something unexpected can really throw me. Yet, there seems to be another force at play, creating a kind of internal chaos that perhaps contributes to an outward appearance of being unstructured. It’s not just a simple mismatch; it’s another layer I’m only just beginning to unravel.
The Mask’s Double-Edged Sword
It’s important to say, though, this mask… it hasn’t all been bad. At times it’s been a survival tool. It’s helped me navigate a world that wasn’t really built for brains like mine. It’s allowed me to “sort of fit in,” to get by, to achieve things. For a long time, it was my shield and my passport to the neurotypical world.
But the flip side? The cost is becoming clearer. That feeling of pretending to be someone else, of being one person at home, in my safe space, and a completely different character out in the public sphere… it’s disorientating. It’s like I’m constantly code-switching, not just my words, but my entire being. And as I said, I’m still working it all out.
The Unfolding Path: What Next?
So, where does that leave me? Well, very much at the beginning, to be honest. Unmasking isn’t a switch I can just flick. It’s a gentle, often hesitant, unfolding. It’s about asking myself, “What if I didn’t force that smile?” or “What if I allowed myself to stim openly when I need to?” or “What if I honoured my need for routine without feeling I have to apologise for it?”
There’s a part of me that’s a bit scared, naturally. The mask has been there for so long. But there’s a bigger part, a more hopeful part, that’s curious to meet the ‘me’ that’s been hiding underneath. It feels a bit like an archaeological dig, dusting off layers of learned behaviours to find something more authentic.
I’m finding that connecting with other autistic voices, whether through podcasts, books, or online communities, is incredibly validating. It makes me feel less alone in this rather unique, and sometimes bewildering, experience.
This is all still very much a work in progress. Some days I feel like I take two steps forward, and other days it’s one step back into old, familiar patterns. But I’m trying to be kind to myself, to approach this with curiosity rather than judgment. It’s a journey, and I’m only just beginning.
What about you? If you’re autistic, especially if you were diagnosed later in life, does any of this resonate? I’d genuinely love to hear your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Perhaps we can navigate some of this path together.
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