ADHD Masking: How I Lost Myself Trying to Fit In

 If you have spent years performing “normal” just to avoid sideways glances, crossed fingers, or the soADHD Masking: How I Lost Myself Trying to Fit Incial version of a police call, you already know what masking feels like. Masking is the daily act of pretending to be someone you are not so you can fit into a world that often punishes difference. For many adults with ADHD—especially women—masking becomes a survival strategy that slowly eats away at energy, identity, and joy.

What masking looks like

Masking is not one single behavior. It is a collection of adaptations we learn to navigate social expectations. It can include:

• Forcing polite laughter at jokes you do not get.
• Nodding along and mirroring opinions to avoid conflict.
• Hiding hyperfocus or interrupting intense interests so they seem “normal.”
• Suppressing fidgeting, stimming, or other sensory needs to appear composed.
• Overpreparing social scripts to manage conversation and impressions.

Why we mask

Humans are social creatures wired to seek approval and belonging. Add ADHD into the mix, and the sensitivity to criticism or rejection is often amplified. Rejection sensitive dysphoria makes a sideways glance feel like the end of the world. The result: we perform.

Masking often starts early. It can be a learned response to teachers, peers, or family who reward conformity and punish difference. For many women with ADHD, the pressure to be polite, organized, and unobtrusive creates a long-running habit of camouflaging authentic behaviors.

The real cost: exhaustion, burnout, and identity erosion

Wearing a mask all day is exhausting. Think of it as being onstage 24/7 without a script. You constantly observe, calculate, and perform. Studies show adults with ADHD who camouflage their behaviors experience higher stress and burnout. That makes sense: pretending to be someone else requires continuous cognitive and emotional labor.

Over time, masking does more than tire you out; it chips away at who you are. You can start to forget your own preferences, reactions, and even your sense of humor. Masking turns social survival into a loop of self-doubt: are you acting like you because you are, or because you learned it was safer?

My turning point: dropping the act

I perfected my mask for decades—agreeing, laughing, nodding—while wondering when the party would end. Eventually I tried not performing for once. The silence at that small gathering stretched on uncomfortably. People stared. I sat there, speaking softly to my stuffed Bigfoot, and felt every social rule I had learned since kindergarten flailing in the wind.

The revelation was simple: silence is not dangerous. Not performing is not a crime. The mask had stopped protecting me. It was no longer saving me from judgment; it was hiding me from myself. When I put it down, the world did not collapse. People did not abandon me. I felt lighter, had more energy, and gained patience for my own quirks.

Signs you might be masking

• You leave social events feeling drained even if they looked “fine” from the outside.
• You rehearse responses or social scripts to get through conversations.
• You frequently laugh at jokes you did not understand to avoid awkwardness.
• You suppress sensory needs or fidgets to appear calm.
• You worry constantly about how others perceive your competence or likability.

How to start dropping the mask

Unmasking does not mean abandoning all social skills overnight. It is a gradual reintroduction of authenticity with self-compassion. Try these practical steps:

1. Start small: Allow one genuine reaction a day—maybe a quiet comment, a real laugh, or a different opinion.
2. Practice self-checks: After social interactions, notice whether you felt like you were performing and how much energy it cost you.
3. Set low-stakes experiments: Try silence in a group conversation and observe the outcome. Silence is rarely catastrophic.
4. Find safe people: Share a little of your true self with someone who responds with curiosity rather than judgment. Authenticity grows in small wins.
5. Reframe rejection: Remind yourself that pushing people away who only liked the mask is a kind of liberation. Let them go.
6. Build supports: Therapy, ADHD coaching, and peer groups can help process the identity work that follows unmasking.

Why authenticity matters

Letting your quirks show will not make everyone like you—and that is okay. Being yourself attracts the people who truly fit your life and gently repels those who do not. Authenticity conserves energy, reduces burnout, and reconstructs a sense of self that masking had eroded.

Masking may have helped you survive, but at some point it stops serving you. When the mask becomes heavier than the relief it provides, it is time to put it down. The first breath after that is worth the awkwardness and the occasional embarrassing moment.

Final thoughts

Masking is common among neurodivergent adults, especially women with ADHD, but it does not have to be permanent. Reclaiming authenticity is messy, funny, and freeing. You do not have to entertain everyone, nod at the exact moment, or laugh on cue. Your true self is enough—and sometimes being a little weird is the most honest and joyful way to live.