The Hidden Costs of Neurodivergent Masking
- Brainz Magazine
- 6 hours ago
- 10 min read
Amy Noyes is a Neurodivergent-Affirming Coach and Consultant, specializing in late-identified Autistic and ADHD adults who are struggling with unmaking, burnout, and self-advocacy. Amy is passionate about creating consent-based space to guide clients in reconnecting with their needs, autonomy, and true selves.
If you are neurodivergent (ND) or if you support or care for someone who is, you may have heard the term masking. This essay is both personal and professional. It is about what masking has looked like in my own life, and what I have learned through years of living behind a mask without even realizing it. I hope that it helps those beginning to notice their own masking, and those who work with or love neurodivergent people, understand the depth and cost of this experience.
Moments of masking
I am sitting at the dining room table with my family of origin. It is incredibly loud, and the vibe is a bit dramatic. I am aware of everyone’s state, trying to appear calm, maybe even trying to make everyone laugh. But inside, I feel terror, because I have a note in my pocket from a boy at school, and I know down to my bones that no one in my family can see it. I am embarrassed because I do not understand the context of the note. What I do understand is that if my sisters find it, they will tease me mercilessly. I am in third grade, masking that everything is fine, while inside, I am frozen with fear.
I am at a party where people are telling jokes that everyone seems to get, except me. I laugh along like I understand what is going on, while I am using every ounce of mental energy to make sure the expression on my face matches what is expected. The stress only lifts because of the buzz from the alcohol. Eventually, it becomes too much, and I leave the party alone, sobbing the entire walk home. I am a freshman in college, trying to make friends.
It is midnight, and I have already worked 50 hours this week, at a job that only pays me for 20. I am ruminating over every decision. Will the board of directors, teachers, guidance counselors, and students approve of me? I feel like I am spinning out. But the grant reports and budgets are due next week, and I have a full caseload of clients to think about. When I walk through the halls tomorrow, everyone will see me smiling. I am 22, making sure everyone likes me, in my first job running a nonprofit.
Looking back, these moments show how much of my life, and the choices I made, were shaped by masking. For decades, I was not even aware I was performing. I just thought something was wrong with me, and I worked endlessly to fix it.
What is masking
Recently, someone said to me, “Doesn’t everyone mask a little?”
Relatively, yes, we could say that everyone takes on different roles in life. There are social expectations, and at work we may present one way, professional, while at home we can relax and let go of that role. However, neurodivergent masking is very different. It is not occasional or situational. It can be constant and all-consuming. It can feel like there is no place in life to truly relax or unwind, because the mask stays on around everyone. This is why neurodivergent masking can become debilitating, leading to serious health impacts and ultimately burnout.
ND masking refers to consciously or unconsciously suppressing or modifying one’s natural behaviors, instincts, or traits to fit in or meet social expectations.
For neurodivergent individuals, especially autistic and ADHD people, masking often means mimicking neurotypical behavior, suppressing emotions or stims, and pretending to be someone you are not. It is an exhausting, long-term coping mechanism that can lead to emotional burnout.
Three aspects of masking are often described:
Compensation: using learned strategies to blend in.Example: mimicking body language, studying social cues from movies.
Camouflaging: actively hiding or suppressing neurodivergent traits.Example: forcing eye contact, changing facial expressions to match others.
Assimilation: performing or pretending to fit in.Example: pretending to enjoy small talk or hobbies you do not actually like.
The cost of unseen effort
The stories above were my daily life, and eventually led to my first autistic burnout. After leaving my nonprofit job, I moved home with my parents. My health collapsed, and most of my friends disappeared. They could not understand what was happening. I felt utterly alone.
I wish I could say I recovered quickly. But because I did not yet know about autism or ADHD, I spent another two decades cycling through deep burnout and overworking, always trying to earn belonging.
My second major burnout, in my early forties, nearly broke me. I was exhausted beyond comprehension, having panic attacks daily. My health deteriorated rapidly, and I truly did not know if I would survive.
Spending decades pretending that everything is fine while feeling like you are drowning takes a profound toll on the body and mind. If you suspect that you or someone you support might be masking, here are some signs and ways to be curious about it.
Signs someone might be masking
As a high masker for more than forty years, no one in my life would have guessed. I could appear social, confident, even easygoing, while internally feeling terrified and disoriented.
At social gatherings, I might seem fine, sometimes even the life of the party, but as soon as I got into the car, I would ask my partner, “Did I do okay? Was what I said okay?” I would replay those moments for weeks.
It was not until I found a neuroaffirming coach who created safety and curiosity that I began to understand my own masking.
Masking is deeply tied to safety and survival. You might notice that someone:
Overthinks or replays social interactions.
Avoids social situations because they are exhausting.
Suppresses natural movements or stims.
Tries to act normal even when distressed.
Downplays feelings or discomfort to avoid rejection.
How to be curious about masking
Whether you are exploring your own masking or supporting someone else, curiosity is the key.
Ask reflective questions, be curious: Instead of assuming someone's behavior, approach them with curiosity. For example, “I noticed you seemed a bit distracted during the meeting. Was there something challenging happening for you?” This invites the person to explore their experiences.
Listen actively: Pay attention to verbal and non-verbal cues. Sometimes masking shows itself in subtle ways that can be noticed in body language, tone, or pauses in conversation.
Respect their boundaries: Be mindful that not everyone wants to share details about their masking. Some may only reveal it once they feel safe or supported. Remember, masking is a survival strategy.
Create a supportive environment: When masking is understood as a coping mechanism, not as something to be fixed, it can create an opportunity for sharing authentically. This encourages others to share their experiences.
Provide encouragement: Encourage and reinforce moments when someone does not mask, showing appreciation for their authentic self. This helps them feel safer and more validated.
Learn and educate yourself: Understanding masking from a neurodiverse perspective, such as reading books, articles, or speaking to neurodivergent individuals about their experiences, will provide valuable insight.
The impacts of masking
Increased anxiety and depression: The pressure to mask and fit into social expectations can exacerbate anxiety, depression, and other mental health issues. The person may feel isolated because they fear that their true self will not be accepted. This can intensify feelings of loneliness and self-doubt.
Mental and emotional exhaustion: Masking is incredibly exhausting. Not only are they using all their energy and resources to act like everyone else, they are also having to remember all the social rules, work hard to recognize patterns of engagement, and constantly monitor and suppress their natural way of being. They also do not feel they can show up in a way that works for them, or have fun in an easy-going way.
Loss of authenticity: Masking often leads to a sense of disconnection from one’s true self. The person may begin to feel like they are pretending to be someone they are not, leading to identity confusion or a sense of lost self. This dissonance can contribute to a lack of fulfillment or inner conflict.
Difficulty in building authentic relationships: Since masking involves hiding parts of oneself, it can be challenging to form deep, meaningful connections with others. If someone is constantly masking, it is hard for others to truly get to know them. This can lead to shallow relationships or feelings of being misunderstood.
Hindered self-awareness and self-advocacy: When someone is masking, they might not fully understand or accept their own needs, strengths, and challenges. Over time, this can hinder their ability to self-advocate because they are not in touch with their authentic needs and experiences. They may also struggle to communicate those needs effectively.
Impact on physical health: The stress and exhaustion from masking can manifest physically. Chronic stress from masking has been linked to various health issues, such as headaches, gastrointestinal problems, sleep disturbances, and nervous system impacts.
Low self-esteem: People who mask start believing they must hide themselves to be loved. They may also feel that they have to earn their way to be worthy enough to get their needs met.
Finding my way back
The turning point for me came when someone suggested I might be autistic. I was surprised. My ideas about autism were narrow and stereotypical, but I started researching and quickly self-identified. That moment saved my life.
Unmasking was really challenging at first. Sometimes it felt like no matter what I did, I could not win. If I masked, my health would be deeply impacted, and my body and mind would become completely exhausted. If I did not mask, the people around me, especially those in my existing relationships, would perceive me as rude, too direct, or even unreasonable. There were a lot of “Well, Amy.” Those moments made my body feel like it was in trouble or danger. In many ways, those same feelings are what led me to start masking as a child.
When I first began to unmask, my voice would quiver, my face would flush, and I felt an urgency to rush through my words. I spoke quickly and often tried to prove my worth or excuse my existence. I apologized constantly. Over time, that began to change, but it took patience and a lot of self-compassion. One day, I noticed that I was calm. I was not looking over my shoulder for approval. I simply felt like myself. It was, in some ways, completely unremarkable, and yet profoundly freeing.
When I support my clients through their own unmasking, it can feel terrifying for them at first. Sometimes it even feels abstract or like a foreign concept. It can also feel like things are getting worse before they get better. Part of this is because they are finally feeling their bodies’ reactions rather than dissociating from them. When dissociation starts to lift, sensory sensitivities can feel more intense.
When I first started unmasking, my husband asked me if I was getting worse instead of better. At that moment, I realized I was getting better. I was feeling freer, but my ability to express discomfort was harder for him. I could finally say, “The rattle in the back of the car is hurting me.” I would stop the car, get out, and find the source of the sound. Those rattles, smells, and other stimuli had always hurt my body, but I was too disconnected to recognize it. Now, I know the source of my pain instead of believing there was something fundamentally wrong with me.
From my own experience and from witnessing my clients’ journeys, I can say that it does get better. That does not mean there are no new challenges, but understanding your needs and limits is life-changing. I can now communicate those needs to my loved ones. I am no longer seen as a closed book or too private.
I do not mask nearly as much as I used to. But when I do, I usually feel it in my body first. I call it losing my legs. My legs start to feel numb. Then my heart rate rises, my vision blurs, and I get lightheaded. Another sign I am masking is when I start to fawn, showing unbalanced interest in the person or people I am with. Unless I need to stay for professional reasons or for safety, I typically leave.
My health does not allow me to spend much time around people who require me to mask, and that is part of how I have found peace. I have built a community of neurodivergent friends and colleagues who understand and care for me in ways I never experienced before. Finding those relationships showed me what belonging actually feels like, ease, safety, and mutual understanding.
A moment of unmasking
I wake up in the morning, and my entire body is covered in pain. That is not something I experience often anymore. I turn to my husband and tell him how much I hurt. In an instant, I remember that the night before, we had dinner with people I felt uncomfortable around. I say, “I masked last night. I cannot spend time with that couple anymore.” He responds, “That makes perfect sense, and I support that 100 percent.”
I start to cry with relief. Relief that I can finally express my needs and be believed. Relief that my needs matter. I still cry even now, because this is my new reality. I can exist exactly as myself, without adjustment, and I am loved. I love myself.
This is what unmasking can look like, not a single dramatic event, but a quiet realization that you no longer have to perform to be accepted.
It is okay to ask for help
At ND Friendly Life, Miranda and I support people who are discovering that they have been masking, often for years or decades. We understand, personally and professionally, how profound that realization can be.
If you or someone you care for has been newly identified as autistic, ADHD, or simply starting to question the role of masking in your life, we welcome you to connect with us by visiting our website.
It takes time to understand how masking operates within you. Go slowly. Because masking is a self-protection mechanism, unmasking requires safety, patience, and self-compassion.
One of the most important steps is learning to find your way back to yourself, to notice when your body moves into fight, flight, freeze, or fawn, and to respond with care rather than judgment. Sometimes that means naming it out loud. Sometimes it means stepping away and finding safety first. Over time, these moments of awareness become small acts of self-acceptance.
Masking can be invisible to the outside world, but all-consuming inside. Whether you are beginning to notice it in yourself or supporting someone who is, remember, masking is not a failure or flaw. It is a survival strategy born of love and hope for belonging. Understanding it gently, with curiosity, is often the first step toward freedom.
Visit my website for more info!
Read more from Amy Noyes
Amy Noyes, Autistic and ADHD Coach and Advocate
Amy Noyes is a late-identified Autistic, ADHD, and PDA individual with a deep commitment to helping others discover and embrace their authentic selves. They understand how living in environments not designed for neurodivergent ways of being can lead to internalized ableism. Amy believes that uncovering one’s neurodivergence can unlock self-understanding, self-acceptance, and the ability to create spaces that truly support our brains. With degrees and professional experience in Autism Studies, Transpersonal Psychology, and Social Work, Amy has dedicated their life to supporting anyone who wants to better understand their true self.
