autismacceptance

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 “Jingle Bells” 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.

Part of the “Unmasking, One Post at a Time” series

Content Note:
This post explores masking, self-awareness, and the quiet moments of learning to be real. If you’re currently in a hard place with identity or self-acceptance, please take care while reading.

I used to think unmasking would be one big, dramatic moment.

Like a grand reveal. A breaking point. A phoenix rising.
And sometimes, it is.

But most days?
It’s much quieter than that.

It’s not wearing makeup when I don’t want to.
It’s asking, “Can you say that more directly?” instead of pretending I understood.
It’s sitting how I actually want to sit, even if it looks “weird.”
It’s saying no to a hangout, not because I’m busy—but because I don’t want to go.
It’s admitting I need more time, or quiet, or clarity.
It’s not faking a laugh when I didn’t get the joke.
It’s pausing.
It’s stimming.
It’s choosing softness instead of performance.

I still mask.

Let’s be clear—I still do it.
Because this world isn’t always safe for neurodivergent folks.
Because unmasking doesn’t mean suddenly being “free”—
It means slowly, carefully learning which parts of yourself deserve protection and which ones are finally safe to let out.

The mask slips off in layers.

Sometimes it clings.
Sometimes I peel it off only to reach for it again five minutes later.
But other times—I forget I even had it on.

And those are the best moments.

📝 Poem: I Didn’t Mean to Wear It

I didn’t mean to wear it—
the smile, the nod, the soft yes
when my body said no.
It’s stitched into me sometimes,
automatic,
like muscle memory.

But today—
I caught it halfway on.
I paused.
And let the silence speak
instead of the mask.

That’s a win.
That’s a whisper of healing.
That’s me.

🪞 A Memory

A few days ago, I was at the grocery store and someone I vaguely knew from high school waved.
She asked how I was.
And I almost did it.
The default: “Great!” with a grin, head tilt, eyes wide.

But instead, I shrugged a little.
“Honestly? Been better. But I’m okay.”
And just like that, the interaction felt human. Not scripted.
She smiled back—genuinely.
We didn’t force a conversation.
We just… existed next to each other for a moment.
And that felt good. Real.

This week, I noticed I didn’t fake a smile in a conversation where I used to.

I didn’t force small talk.
I didn’t interrupt myself with apologies.
I caught myself, and I let myself stay real.
Not perfect. Just real.

And that’s enough for now.

🌀 Reflection Questions:

What does unmasking look like for you right now?
Can you remember a moment this week where you were fully yourself, even just for a second?
What would it feel like to unmask just 5% more in one part of your day?

Tags:
#Unmasking #NeurodivergentLife #AutismAcceptance #BeingReal #SelfDiscovery #MentalHealth #MaskingAndUnmasking #EverydayCourage