šŸ’­ Unmasking: The Struggle of Being Myself

Unmasking, One Post at a Time

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Specifically about unmasking my autism. And while I’ve had some positive experiences with it, I’ve come to realize that the negative experiences still outweigh the positive ones. And that makes me really sad. It’s hard, honestly, because I don’t know what else to do or who else to be. I can’t be anything but myself, and sometimes it feels like that’s just too much for people to handle.

I know I’ve gotten some positive responses—people have been understanding, kind, and validating—but still, the negativity lingers. And that’s tough. It’s like a heavy weight in my chest. When my mom was sharing her experiences with unmasking, I couldn’t really respond in the way I wanted to. I wasn’t sure how to say it, but I’ve been feeling like my own experience of unmasking has been harder.

A person sitting on a bathroom toilet, holding a small white dog and a bundle of flowers, with a smile on their face. The bathroom features green walls and a vanity with toiletries in the background.

For me, it’s not just about letting go of the mask. It’s about trying to explain the way I move through the world. I feel like I need to explain why I do certain things, like singing loudly to myself or having the song ā€œJingle Bellsā€ stuck in my head 24/7. Or why I sometimes talk out loud to myself, the animals, or even inanimate objects around me. These are stims. If you don’t know what stimming is, I suggest you look it up. It’s a way of self-regulating, a form of expression. It’s something that helps me feel grounded. But it’s also something that makes me feel like I have to explain myself to others.

A person smiling while posing next to vibrant green leaves and clusters of white flowers in a natural setting.
Mmmmmm smells so good.

Here’s the thing: I can talk to animals or inanimate objects with ease, but when it comes to talking to people? That’s when I freeze. That’s when it gets too weird. It’s like my brain can’t quite make the connection, and then the pressure of social expectations just hits me. So, I just keep it inside. I don’t feel free to express myself the way I want to. And that’s painful—not just mentally, but physically too. Holding in stims isn’t just hard emotionally; it hurts in my body, and it’s depressing. It’s exhausting to try to be something I’m not.

A close-up view of a flowering strawberry plant with a white bloom and green leaves emerging from dark soil in a pot.

I’ve spent so much of my life masking my true self because I thought it would make things easier. But it hasn’t. Not really. And now, as I’m unmasking, I’m faced with all these conflicting feelings. The sadness of wanting to be myself, but also feeling like I have to explain why I am the way I am. It’s like trying to explain the air I breathe or the way my heart beats. It’s me. It’s who I am. It’s autism. It’s ADHD. It’s my brain. It’s my body. Take it or leave it.

A smiling person holding a dandelion flower in a backyard with cloudy skies and a white fence in the background.

But sometimes, when I’m still caught in the moments of doubt, I wonder: what would it be like to just be free? Free from the expectations, the need for explanations, the weight of others’ judgment. It feels so far out of reach some days. But I hold on to the hope that one day, the world will be a little more understanding and a lot less demanding of conformity.

Smiling person in a yellow jacket sitting by a riverbank, with a laptop in front, surrounded by lush greenery and a cloudy sky.

So yeah, I’m unmasking. And it’s a process. A painful, raw, beautiful process. And I’m doing it for me.

A close-up selfie of a person with long hair, wearing a bright yellow jacket and a colorful striped sweater, standing outdoors with a wooden structure in the background under a cloudy sky.

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