Understanding Neurodivergence and the Exhaustion of Masking

Masking can be exhausting.

And I think sometimes we talk about masking as though the difficult part is just hiding parts of yourself. But for me, one of the bigger pieces to understand is how much work can go into navigating everyday interactions when you're neurodivergent.

You may be thinking about a conversation before it even happens. You might run through different ways it could go or think about what you might say if someone responds a certain way. Then, while you're actually in the conversation, you're paying attention to your tone, your facial expressions, your body language, whether you're making enough eye contact, whether you're talking too much, whether you responded the way you were supposed to.

And sometimes you don't even realize you're doing all of that because you've been doing it for so long that it just feels like you're having a conversation.

That's part of what can make masking so exhausting. A lot of the work is happening underneath what everyone else can see.

From the outside, you might look like you're doing just fine. You might come across as confident. You might be social and funny and engaged. You might be really good at your job. You can have the conversation, get through the meeting, go to dinner, make people laugh.

And then you get home and you're done.

Not just tired. Done.

You don't want to talk to anyone. You don't want to answer the text that came in. You don't want to make dinner. You don't want to make another decision. You may have been looking forward to seeing your friends, and now the thought of doing it again sounds completely overwhelming.

Your battery is on E.

I think this can be really hard to explain to ourselves or to other people. You get to the end of the day and feel like you didn't really do anything, but you're completely exhausted. You might have just gone out, had a conversation, gone to a meeting, or spent time with people, and wonder why that took so much out of you. When you can't see all of the work that was happening underneath the interaction, it can be hard to understand where that exhaustion came from.

Masking Isn't the Same as Being Different in Different Situations

I also think it's important to talk about what masking actually is, because sometimes the conversation around masking can make it sound like we're supposed to be exactly the same person in every situation.

That's not realistic.

We all wear different hats depending on the situation and the people we're around. I'm not going to talk to my best friend the same way I talk to a coworker or someone I've just met. There are things I'm going to share with one person that I wouldn't share with another. I'm going to behave differently in a professional setting than I do at home.

That doesn't mean I'm being fake.

Being authentic doesn't mean acting exactly the same way everywhere.

For neurodivergent people, though, there can be a lot more happening underneath those adjustments. It may not just be that you're choosing to communicate differently because you're at work. You may be actively monitoring yourself the entire time. You're thinking about whether you're making the right facial expression, whether you're standing the right way, whether you're talking too much, whether you're interrupting, whether you're responding appropriately.

That's a lot of work, and I think that's the part that sometimes gets missed.

It's not simply, I act differently at work than I do at home.

It's more, How much work am I doing to make sure I am acting the way I'm expected to act?

That's where masking can start to look very different from simply adjusting how you communicate depending on the situation.

The Part Nobody Sees

Another tricky part is that you may not even recognize that you're masking.

If you've spent years figuring out how to navigate social situations and learning what people expect from you, some of those things can become automatic. You aren't necessarily thinking, Okay, I'm going to mask now.

You just do it.

This can sometimes become more noticeable when someone learns they're neurodivergent later in life. They may start looking back at things that have always felt difficult or exhausting and realize there was more effort involved than they understood at the time.

Maybe that's why certain social situations have always left them completely drained. Maybe that's why they need so much time alone after being around people. Maybe they can hold everything together during the day and then fall apart once they get home.

That isn't everyone's experience, and being diagnosed later in life doesn't automatically mean someone has been masking in the same way; however, for some people, having language for masking can help explain something they've been experiencing for a very long time.

There can be a pretty big shift from thinking, Why can't I handle this? and realizing, I've been working really hard to handle this.

And sometimes the interaction itself isn't even the most exhausting part.

It's what happens afterward.

You might replay the conversation. You might think about something you said and wonder if it came out the wrong way. You might wonder if you talked too much or if someone was annoyed with you. You may find yourself going back over the interaction trying to figure out what you could have done differently.

If rejection is something that feels particularly difficult for you, that can add another layer to all of this.

Sometimes masking can feel like a way of protecting yourself from rejection. If I can figure out what I'm supposed to say and how I'm supposed to act, maybe I can avoid doing something that someone else will react negatively to.

But then you can spend all of this energy trying to get the interaction right, and afterward you're still wondering if you got it right.

Did I do the mask good enough?

And if you decide you didn't, that's when the negative self-talk can really kick in.

Why did I say that?

Why am I like this?

I should have known better.

Instead of recognizing how much energy you just used, you end up criticizing yourself for not having more energy left.

When Your Battery Is Empty

This exhaustion doesn’t always end with the interaction. It can follow you home.

When you've spent the day using so much energy to navigate social interactions, monitor yourself, interpret what other people are doing, and figure out how you're supposed to respond, it makes sense that you may not have much left for everything else.

You may not want to socialize again. You may want to be alone. You may not feel motivated to do the things you usually enjoy.

You may look at the dishes or the laundry or the dinner you need to make and think, I just can't.

And then it's really easy to turn that into something about yourself.

I'm so lazy.

I'm so antisocial.

Why can't I just do what everyone else seems to be able to do?

But maybe you're not lazy.

Maybe you're exhausted.

Maybe you've been using a tremendous amount of energy just to get through the day in a way that other people don't necessarily see.

Of course you don't want to socialize again after that.

Of course you may want to be alone.

Of course you may not have the motivation to do one more thing.

Your battery is empty.

I don't think understanding masking means we need to decide that every time we adjust our behavior, we're doing something wrong. You don't have to stop masking completely. You don't have to tell everyone exactly what you're thinking. You don't have to behave the same way with everyone.

You're allowed to have boundaries. You're allowed to choose what you share. You're allowed to communicate differently depending on the situation.

I think it's more about noticing the amount of effort underneath those choices.

How much energy are you using?

How much are you monitoring yourself?

How exhausted are you afterward?

And what do you tell yourself about that exhaustion?

Because sometimes recognizing masking isn't about figuring out how to unmask.

Sometimes it's just about understanding why something that looks easy from the outside is taking so much energy on the inside.

The fact that you can navigate a social interaction doesn't mean it was easy. It doesn't mean it didn't take work, and it doesn't mean you should still have a full battery when you get home. Sometimes you really did use all of it.

Instead of criticizing yourself for needing to be alone or for not wanting to socialize again, you can recognize what happened. This can be a space where you start to give yourself some grace.

You spent a lot of energy getting through the day.

Your battery is on E.

Maybe the question isn't, Why am I so exhausted? or Why can't I do more?

Maybe it's, What do I need when my battery is this low?

How can I support myself when I'm on E, instead of beating myself up for being on E?

Because needing to recharge doesn't mean you've done something wrong.

Sometimes, you really just need to recharge.