When I got diagnosed, a lot of what I read online made unmasking sound like taking off a Halloween costume. Find the real you underneath, let it out, done.
That isn't how it went for me. After fifty-odd years, I'm not completely sure what's under there. Some days I find a bit more of it. Some days I catch myself performing in front of the bathroom mirror, which is a weird thing to notice about yourself in your mid-fifties.
So how do you stop masking as an autistic adult? Slowly, and not everywhere at once. Notice what you hide and what it costs. Drop the mask first in places where you're safe. Let small things back in. Find other autistic people. And keep the option of masking on purpose, because sometimes you'll need it.
If you're not sure what masking even is, start with what masking is. This post is about what comes after.
Why does unmasking feel so hard after decades?
Because the mask stopped being a choice a long time ago. It's reflex. It's how you hold your face in a grocery line. You can't just decide to stop doing something you don't notice you're doing.
There's also a fear under it. The mask was there for a reason. As a kid, being "too much" got me in trouble. As an adult, the performing version of me got hired, got clients, ran a company. So part of my brain is convinced that if the mask comes off, everything falls apart. Fear of abandonment is a big theme in my life (I tend to leave before I can be left), and unmasking pokes right at that.
And then there's grief. Realising how much energy went into the act, for how long, without knowing, can knock you flat. I wrote about that in grief and relief after a late diagnosis.
Where I started: noticing
The first step for me wasn't changing anything. It was just catching it.
I started noticing when I was rehearsing a conversation in my head before a phone call. When I was holding back a tic in front of someone. When I laughed because the other person laughed. No judgement, no fixing. Just: there it is.
Writing it down helped. A note on my phone. After a while you see patterns. For me, the masking got heaviest with new people and with anyone who had some kind of power over me. Makes sense, when you think about it.
Drop it where it's safe first
Home is the lab. I let the tics and fidgeting happen now when I'm home, instead of saving them for when I'm alone. I stopped pretending I'm fine with the TV and a conversation going at the same time.
That's changed things with Sandra, my partner. She sees more of the real version now, and it's not always the prettier one. It's more honest, though, and we've both had to get used to it.
A few other small things I've been trying:
Taking breaks without a cover story. Going outside for ten minutes at a gathering, and saying "I need some quiet" instead of inventing a phone call.
Leaving earlier. Before the tank hits zero, not after.
Letting my interests be as big as they are. For years I toned down how much I could talk about one thing. Now I let it run a bit more, with people who seem to enjoy it.
Sensory gear in public. Noise cancelling, sunglasses. Stuff that cuts the load so there's less to hide.
Things nobody warned me about
People react differently. I told a few people about the diagnosis. Some got it right away. Some looked at me like I'd announced a new hobby. One or two clearly preferred the old version. The National Autistic Society has a section on disclosing your diagnosis that I wish I'd read first.
Unmasking can be used as an excuse. This one's on me. It would be easy to tell myself being short with people is "just being authentic." Bullshit. The robplosions (my word, well, a friend's word, for when I blow up at people) come out of overload, and they hurt people. Calling them authenticity would be a lie. Dropping the mask doesn't give me a pass on how I treat anyone. If anything I have to watch it harder.
It doesn't make you less tired overnight. At first, unmasking took energy too, because I was thinking about it all the time. It got lighter as it became normal.
You're allowed to keep the mask in your pocket
Unmasking isn't all or nothing. I still mask sometimes. At the bank, in a meeting, at a funeral. The difference is that now I know I'm doing it, I choose it, and I plan time to recover after. That's a different deal from fifty years on autopilot.
Mask when I decide to, not because my body did it before I noticed. That's about where I've landed for now.
Who can help with unmasking?
Other autistic people. I didn't expect this one to matter as much as it does. Hearing someone describe the exact thing you thought was just you is a big deal. Reframing Autism, an autistic-led charity, has a section for the newly diagnosed. The NAS runs an online community too.
A therapist who gets autism. Not every therapist does. Some will try to train the mask back on, with the best of intentions. Ask straight out if they work with autistic adults. In Québec, I put together notes on finding an autism-aware therapist.
A book. Devon Price's Unmasking Autism has exercises for figuring out your values and what you actually like, under all the performing. It helped me.