Unmasking: My Journey to Understanding Autism as an Adult

For most of my life, I thought I was just “a bit different.” I’d been described as bubbly, friendly, and always up for an adventure — the kind of person who seemed confident and full of life. But on the inside, I was exhausted. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was playing a role, a carefully constructed version of myself that helped me fit in and hide the struggles I didn’t know how to explain.

I felt like a chameleon, constantly changing and adapting my personality depending on who I was with. Around loud, confident people, I’d become louder. Around quieter people, I’d tone myself down. With every different friendship group, workplace, or social situation, I had a slightly different “version” of me.

At the time, I thought this was a skill — being able to “read the room” and fit in anywhere. While it can be helpful to mirror people in certain situations, looking back, I realise it was survival. I was scanning for cues, adjusting my tone, copying mannerisms, and rehearsing conversations so I wouldn’t stand out for the “wrong” reasons. The problem was, I got so good at it, I lost sight of what the real me actually looked like.

When I was diagnosed as autistic as an adult, everything suddenly made sense.

Why I couldn’t hear properly in restaurants when the background noise blurred people’s voices together.
Why I’d get overwhelmed in rooms where too many people were talking at once.
Why certain fabrics and seams in clothing made me feel on edge all day.
Why bright lights felt like they drilled into my brain.

I had no idea these were autistic sensory differences. I just thought I was overly sensitive or “bad at coping.” My bubbly personality wasn’t entirely fake. It was part of me. But I realise now I was turning up the volume on it to hide my struggles. If I could be the friendly, happy, high-energy person, maybe no one would notice how hard I was working just to get through a conversation, or how much I wanted to go home and collapse afterwards.

What Is Masking?

Masking is when an autistic person consciously or unconsciously hides or suppresses their natural behaviours, communication style, and needs to fit into the expectations of the world around them.

It can look like:

  • Forcing eye contact even though it feels uncomfortable

  • Mimicking social behaviours you’ve observed in others

  • Hiding stimming, such as fidgeting, rocking, or tapping

  • Preparing and rehearsing social scripts in advance

  • Downplaying sensory discomfort, like pretending noise, bright lights, or clothing textures don’t bother you

How Masking Can Look for Children

Masking often starts in childhood, sometimes before we even have the words to explain why. For autistic children, masking might look like:

  • Copying classmates’ body language, speech patterns, or facial expressions

  • Holding in stims or meltdowns all day at school, only to have a huge meltdown at home

  • Smiling or laughing along in situations they don’t understand

  • Pretending not to be bothered by loud noises, smells, or uncomfortable clothing

  • Becoming the “model student” to avoid attention, even if it means pushing through discomfort

  • Being overly agreeable to avoid conflict, even when they’re unhappy

Because these behaviours often look like “good coping skills,” masking in children can go unnoticed, which can delay diagnosis and support.

Why Do We Mask?

Masking isn’t about deception. It’s about safety and belonging. Many of us mask to:

  • Avoid bullying or social exclusion

  • Meet workplace or school expectations

  • Reduce the emotional labour of constantly explaining ourselves

  • Gain acceptance in family, friendship, and community spaces

  • Protect ourselves from misunderstanding or discrimination

Years of Masking Without Realising: The Late Diagnosis Experience

For those diagnosed later in life, masking can be so deeply woven into our identity that it’s mistaken for personality.

You might hear:

  • “You’re so good with people, you can’t be autistic.”

  • “You just seem shy, anxious, or introverted. That’s all.”

Because the mask is what the world sees, the exhaustion, anxiety, and sensory struggles underneath remain hidden. This is why late diagnosis is so common, especially for women, who are often taught from an early age to “fit in” and “be nice.”

How Masking Changes After Diagnosis

Receiving an autism diagnosis can feel like the lights finally coming on. Suddenly, there’s a reason for the exhaustion and confusion. Many people begin to let the mask drop, at least in safe spaces.

Post-diagnosis, you might:

  • Allow yourself to stim freely

  • Set clearer boundaries around sensory needs

  • Drop social scripts in favour of more authentic conversations

  • Spend less energy “performing” and more on self-care

It can feel liberating, but it’s also an adjustment. Some relationships change when you stop overcompensating, and it takes time to trust that your unmasked self is enough.

The Cost of Masking: Burnout

Masking demands constant effort. Over years, this can lead to autistic burnout, a state of extreme exhaustion.

Signs can include:

  • Heightened sensory sensitivity

  • Struggling with daily tasks

  • Withdrawing from social situations

  • Increased anxiety or depression

  • Physical symptoms like headaches, muscle tension, or chronic fatigue

For many, burnout becomes the wake-up call that reveals just how much they’ve been masking, and how necessary it is to rest and recover.

Moving Towards Authenticity

Masking isn’t inherently bad. Sometimes it’s a tool for safety. But learning to recognise when you’re masking, and giving yourself permission to unmask in safe environments, is vital for long-term wellbeing.

If you’ve been masking for years, remember:

  • You are not “too much” or “not enough”

  • Your sensory needs are real and valid

  • You don’t need to earn acceptance by performing

Your authentic self has always been there, and it is worthy exactly as it is.

By Kylie Gardner
The A List