In my 30’s and only within the last few years have I been able to really introspect my life, and realize behaviors that I’ve “created” or “fake” in social interactions. I struggled a lot in middle/high school, and even through my 20’s. I’ve essentially “found” myself to some degree in my 30’s, but I’m actually not sure how much of it is me and how much of it is masking.
I recognize the signs when I’m being fake in interactions that would benefit from being more genuine. It’s automatic, and I’ve noticed others take notice when it’s the wrong mask at the wrong time. Which just means I get better at it, which is nice and all, but it would be cool if it wasn’t such an automatic reaction.
So my question to all of you is how do you reduce masking behavior in situations or relationships where it may be beneficial or necessary to not do so?
Awkwardly I guess you could answer this with “You get better at it with time”, which is true of most things. However, I’m looking for some emotionally intelligent advice or anecdotes.
I had a unique upbringing. My father was an illiterate dyslexic (and maybe autistic himself) and he is fuckin weird - to put bluntly. That side of my family never really understood neurodivergence per-se, but they understood that everyone’s a little weird - but we embraced that we’re VERY weird. Hanging out with my dad’s extended family is a lot of flailing, weird humor, and zany shenanigans and they embraced every moment.
My mother by contrast was more “abled” but she relished the “weirdness” that my father had in spades. Her own family had a bit of a zany streak as well - with my maternal Grandfather very obviously being undiagnosed autistic and having his own brand of severely understated and jump-scare humor.
Masking was entirely unnecessary in my family - and I can recognize the state pretty easily. It’s more mentally relaxed, less hypervigilant, and generally more comfortable.
It was great not having to mask in my childhood - until I went to school and it suddenly wasn’t a good thing.
Learning my masks was an absolutely agonizing process because “being myself” wasn’t acceptable “out there”. I felt so out of place compared to my peers. I was also bullied relentlessly to the point of PTSD. My masks eventually became automatic through the tumultuous times. It wasn’t until my diagnosis in my early 30’s that I even began to understand what it all was, and start deconstructing the masks.
Unmasking was as easy as accessing a “younger” me and simply not caring about the social results. (to a point)
For my echolalia, I don’t hold back my vocal stimming anymore. I used to feel embarrassed and self conscious around it. Now I embrace it and have fun with it. Will you get movie trailer voice me or death metal voice me? Who knows!? Will I throw a random phrase using an English accent into an otherwise monotone statement, yoooouuu bet!
For my special interests, I LET my excitement bubble over. Sure, I might need to regain my composure from time to time, but hiding my excitement about these things nearly destroyed me. I try not to be hyper-focused though so as to allow natural conversational flow, but I also don’t overly police myself anymore.
There’s a few other things, but it’s hard to reflect on them all.
Ultimately I’m unsure how helpful my experience is to others - it’s a bit unique having a deep family culture of being really weird. I think that really helps me put my guard down and unmask. If I didn’t have these memories, finding my unmasked state would be a LOT harder.
This had me thinking a lot about it… Damn.
I grew up having to mask within my family who were, and still are, strict traditionalists. Extremely formal, I learned to “hide” myself probably before I was even 10.
I started to express more in my teens in school, but relentless bullying taught me how to mask better. And home was a strict and unforgiving environment alongside.
I’m only starting to discover the trauma I’ve been causing myself over the last 25+ years.
I can’t even express myself freely, in a room by myself, I feel self conscious and a need to “control” myself to fit norms even when I’m the only one in the bloody room. “But what if someone sees me?!?”
Gah, what a mess.
Awesome story, thank you so much for sharing. Unique is the right word!