My Personal Unmasking Journey: Understanding Autism Masking as a Late-Diagnosed Adult

Autism masking is something many neurodivergent people do—often without realizing it. It’s the process of hiding or suppressing traits to fit into a world that isn’t designed for how their brain works.

For most of my life, I didn’t know I was masking.

This is my personal unmasking journey—how it started with my son, led to my own diagnosis, and continues to shape how I move through the world today.

What Is Autism Masking?

Autism masking is the process of consciously or unconsciously hiding autistic traits to meet social expectations. This can include forcing eye contact, scripting conversations, suppressing stimming, or mimicking neurotypical behavior.

Masking isn’t always a deliberate choice. For many people, it develops over time as a way to navigate environments that reward conformity and discourage difference.

I didn’t realize I was doing it. I just thought I was doing what everyone else seemed to do naturally.

How My Understanding of Autism Changed

In 2020, I gave birth to my son during the height of the pandemic. Like many “pandemic babies,” his early development didn’t follow a typical path. At first, that was the explanation.

But by six months, I had a gut feeling something more was going on.

As he grew, I noticed differences:

• Limited response to his name

• Reduced eye contact

• Strong sensory sensitivities

• Repetitive movements and focused patterns of play

At 18 months, I started voicing concerns. He entered Early Intervention, and over time, therapies were added.

When autism became a real possibility, I struggled—not because of who he is, but because of what I thought autism meant.

Like many people, my understanding had been shaped by stereotypes. That autism meant limitation. That it defined what someone could or couldn’t become.

That belief didn’t hold up once I started learning.

Learning From Autistic Voices

While we waited for his evaluation, I started researching—intensively.

But the most important shift was who I learned from.

Instead of only relying on medical or parent-centered perspectives, I started listening to autistic adults.

That changed everything.

I learned about:

• Sensory processing differences

• Stimming as regulation

• Communication differences

• Masking and its long-term impact

I also began to understand ableism—how society defines worth based on productivity, independence, and conformity.

That lens forced me to re-evaluate my assumptions.

By the time my son was diagnosed at 2½, I no longer felt fear.

I felt clarity.

Recognizing Autism in My Family—and Myself

As part of the evaluation process, we looked closely at developmental history across our family.

That’s when things started to click.

My husband, who had been diagnosed with ADHD as a child, clearly fit an autistic profile as well. Looking back, it explained so much of his experience—especially in work environments that didn’t support how he processed information or navigated expectations.

Then, gradually, I turned that same lens inward.

At first, I dismissed it.

I could make eye contact.

I could communicate effectively.

I had built a career.

I loved traveling internationally and having new experiences.

But what I hadn’t recognized was how much effort that required.

I script conversations in my head.

I analyze decisions from every angle.

I rely on structure and clear expectations.

I experience sensory sensitivities across sound, light, and texture.

None of those things, on their own, define autism.

But together—and in context—they told a different story.

After months of research and reflection, I was diagnosed with autism and ADHD in December 2023.

For the first time, my life made sense.

Autism Masking in Adults: What It Looked Like for Me

Masking had been part of my life for as long as I could remember—I just didn’t have language for it.

I thought I was:

• Overthinking

• Too sensitive

• Socially anxious

• “Just wired differently”

In reality, I was constantly adapting.

Trying to meet expectations that weren’t designed for how my brain works.

There’s a cost to that.

Masking can lead to:

• Chronic exhaustion

• Increased anxiety

• Burnout

• A disconnect from your own needs

Understanding that was a turning point.

What Unmasking Autism Looks Like in Real Life

Unmasking isn’t a single decision. It’s an ongoing process of reducing the gap between who you are and how you show up.

For me, that looks like:

• Keeping fidgets nearby to support regulation

• Allowing myself to stim instead of suppressing it

• Managing sensory input with tools like earplugs

• Wearing clothes based on comfort, not expectation

• Using supports like Finch to maintain routines

• Letting go of unnecessary effort (pre-prepped food, simplifying tasks)

• Saying “no” more often

• Naming my needs instead of pushing through

• Making space for simple, enjoyable activities like puzzles or legos

These are small shifts—but they reduce a significant amount of cognitive load.

The Reality of Unmasking (It’s Not All or Nothing)

I’m not unmasked all the time.

Anxiety still shows up. Social expectations still exist. There are moments where masking feels easier—or necessary.

The difference now is awareness.

I recognize when I’m masking.I understand the impact.And I give myself more grace.

When I’m able to lower the mask, I feel less overwhelmed and more like myself.

Is It Safe to Unmask?

Unmasking is not an obligation.

For many people, it isn’t safe. There are real risks—social, professional, and personal.

This isn’t a one-size-fits-all process.

Unmasking can be:

• Partial

• Context-dependent

• Gradual

It might start at home. Or with trusted people. Or in small, private ways.

There is no “right” way to do this.

Where I Am Now

This journey started with my son.

But it led to a deeper understanding of my family, myself, and the systems we navigate every day.

Unmasking, for me, isn’t about removing every layer.

It’s about making life more sustainable.

Reducing the effort it takes to exist in environments that weren’t designed for you.

And, when possible, creating or contributing to environments that are.

Final Thought

If you’re exploring your own experience with masking or unmasking, you’re not alone.

This process looks different for everyone.

And it’s okay to move at your own pace.