How to Stop Relying on Masking

Stop pretending to be a nice neurotypical woman and allow yourself to be a nice autistic person instead.

May 10, 2021

I started masking so early that I didn't realize I was masking. It seemed like all of my peers were being trained to hide the wilder parts of themselves via socialization. Isn’t that how school works for everyone?

Socializing requires performativity and play-acting from all of us, right? I had no idea how much harder I was finding the performance than other people until fairly recently.

I thought the rules of society were stupid and arbitrary (I still do a lot of the time) and there were far too many to keep up with. By the time I was thirteen, I felt frozen by the overwhelming amount of seemingly conflicting information coming at me, about how I was supposed to be.

Once someone introduced me to the idea of breaking the rules I felt some relief, at least. Rebellion allowed me to escape, but it didn’t offer me the extra support I needed to develop. Also, it led to me developing a drinking problem.

The end of fitting in

As I grew up, booze helped me to become a social chameleon, shifting to fit whatever group I was part of. Teenage hard nut (LOL! I was 4’10”); ultimate raver; smart little lady; art student; surfer; starving artist. Getting dressed was hard, and so was choosing clothes. How did people know what they should wear? I had no idea who I was, but I assumed nobody did.

Self is just a construct, right? We all have loads of selves, don’t we?

I could distract myself with this intellectualizing well into my early 20s. But by my early 30s, I was starting to see that something somewhere was wrong. I was passing out of the realm of the Late Developer into the realm of the Never Developed. Years were passing me by, but somehow my life refused to come together.

The first step I took after realizing this was to get sober. This gave me the calm and clarity to begin untangling some of the knots that had been limiting my life.

It would be 4 more years until I got a diagnosis, but sobriety was crucial.

Born again

Getting sober was a little like being born again, but aged 13.

I found myself back at the stage of development I had begun drinking at. And I quickly began to see why I had struggled so much the first time around. I discovered (and was grossed out by) Polite Robot. I found layer upon layer of social anxiety. And a horribly critical inner voice.

With the support of my new sober support group, I took the time to experiment and find what worked for me. This is what children, ideally, do in their adolescent years, with the support of present and mature adults. The total lack of stability in my home life meant that I sorely missed out on this.

Early sobriety was a very special and important nurturing time. I was 33, but secretly still a teenager. No wonder life had been so hard!

The revelations came thick and fast. I realized I was a quiet person who liked quiet environments. That I love people, but I don’t like groups. That my current relationship was abusive and that I needed to get out of it. That I prefer to do activities like drawing or walking together than just talking.

Over time, I caught up on some of the self-discovery I missed out on.

Life started to feel manageable for the first time since I could remember. I grew more content and started to make a life that better suited me, and fell in love, and made a home life sweeter and more comfortable than I had ever experienced.

As I learned how to be responsible my life filled up, and I got a Proper Job where I felt a lot of pressure to behave like a Proper Woman.

Gradually I became overwhelmed again.

I had to be signed off work because my anxiety and dread grew so powerful. Forcing myself to fit in at the cost of my own needs and requirements had yet again made me ill. I am not able to ‘push through’ like other people seem to be able to push through. My body, eventually, refuses to continue. I now understand this as autistic burnout.

This latest bout of ‘illness’ eventually led to my diagnosis of autism. This felt incredibly relieving and positive and empowering, as well as shocking and upsetting and bewildering, because it gave me hope for a different kind of future.

I am committed to avoiding autistic burnout in future. Incidentally, avoiding this is predominantly what this newsletter is about <3.

Self-knowledge is the answer

If you know that you can default to intense passivity when overwhelmed, you can work to avoid situations that are overwhelming. Or you can approach them with a plan. An exit strategy can be helpful.

Likewise, you can avoid or be cautious with people you find overwhelming. Brief visits could help. Agreeing end times might help. Staying in your own accommodation may help.

If you understand that you struggle with initiation you can explore possible workarounds. Ask for help by telling your friends the importance of allowing space for you to think and come to my own decision. Surround yourself with patient and supportive people who want you to decide for yourself.

Steer clear of those who see your struggle for autonomy as evidence they need to decide for you. Avoid those who see your uncertainty as another opportunity to get their own way.

I am learning that I am entitled to decide for myself in my own time, and I’m sad and a bit embarrassed, and fairly angry, that I’ve learned this so late. But at this point in my life, I won’t automatically realise that I am entitled to this.

I sincerely hope that in future, this will become naturalised, but who knows.

How diagnosis is helping me

All my life I thought I was a faulty, inept and weird neurotypical woman. Recently, I am starting to see that I might instead be a pretty excellent autistic person. Having a diagnosis is helping me to be kind to myself about what I once rather embarrassingly and gravely referred to as ‘my private failures’.

Identifying as autistic (and getting a lovely certificate) is giving me the confidence to work towards my strengths. I might be clueless when it comes to office politics, but I can deconstruct a novel like nobody's business.

My administrative skills are shocking, but my imagination is a total powerhouse. I can’t read maps to save my life (literally) but I can write thousands of pretty good words in a couple of hours.

What I lack in autonomy in social situations I make up for in creativity when I am alone. Reading, writing and drawing are much more enjoyable to me than parties. And this is okay.

(I wonder if reading, writing and drawing parties would be enjoyable. Should we try it?)

Ways I am learning to unmask:

Admitting more often when I don’t understand what is going on.

Letting myself sing and whistle more, and being understanding and affectionate towards myself about my lack of control over it/the absolute stream of nonsense.

Saying no to invitations more.

Admitting I don’t enjoy the things that many people seem to really enjoy.

Talking more honestly about my difficulties and what is really going on with me.

Asking people to help me with remembering, and admitting that I find it very hard.

Telling people I’m autistic and that I have issues with executive functioning.

Being more proactive in arranging activities and dates that actually suit me.

Arranging dates with end times. 90 minutes is plenty of time with anyone, thanks : D

Do you have any other techniques for unmasking?

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