Masking my autism

Masking my autism, I often fell into the trap of internalized ableism. It’s like wearing a costume so tight, it cuts into your very being, altering how you view yourself and, inadvertently, others who share similar experiences. There were times, caught in that cycle, where I mirrored attitudes or behaviors I now understand were shaped by that internalized ableism. It’s a hard pill to swallow, acknowledging that part of my past, but it’s also a step towards understanding and accepting not just myself, but also embracing the diversity of experiences within the autism spectrum. It’s a reminder of the journey from self-acceptance to advocacy, a path not just about unlearning harmful perceptions but also about recognizing and celebrating the unique perspectives and strengths autism brings.

Ah, this hits close to home, doesn’t it? That costume analogy is spot on. It’s as if you’re squeezed into a version of yourself that’s not quite right, all in the name of fitting in, of not sticking out. It’s suffocating, really, and it does more than just restrict your movements; it warps your self-perception, makes you second-guess every unique trait you possess. And the worst part? It’s not just you — it affects how you see others who are also struggling, trying on their own tight costumes. It’s a cycle of self-alienation, not just from yourself but from a community of people who might actually get it, who might actually understand what it’s like to feel so out of place in your own skin. It’s a tough realization, recognizing this self-imposed masquerade, but acknowledging it? That’s the first step towards breaking free.

There’s an undeniable echo in my own experiences. Masking autism, it’s more than just an act of blending in; it’s a full-on performance where the costume is so restrictive, it leaves marks on your soul. This analogy, the costume that’s too tight, captures it perfectly. It’s an armor that’s supposed to protect you from standing out, from being ‘too much’ or ‘not enough’, yet it ends up doing more harm than good. It’s suffocating, limiting, forcing you into a mold that’s never meant for you. And this act, this performance, it changes how you see yourself, how you value your quirks and unique perspectives. It’s a distortion of self, a lens that also alters how you perceive others fighting their own battles with their costumes.

Acknowledging this, admitting to this self-imposed masquerade, it’s painful but also liberating. It’s the first step towards shedding that costume, towards embracing the authenticity of your being. It’s a journey towards self-acceptance, towards finding your place in a community that understands, that empathizes, that supports. It’s about breaking free from the constraints of masking and finding comfort in your true self, and in doing so, offering a beacon of hope for others who are also learning to embrace their unmasked selves.