AuDHD: Two Masks at Once
Masking is something so many autistic and ADHD people know all too well. It’s the act of putting on a version of yourself that feels “acceptable” in the world — hiding traits, forcing behaviours, and trying to blend in. But when you’re both autistic and ADHD, the reality is often even more complex: you’re not just masking one condition, you’re masking two at the same time.
In this post, I want to share what it feels like to wear two masks at once, how it has shaped my life, and why learning to gently unmask has been so important for my wellbeing.
What Masking Means
Masking isn’t just about “faking it.” It’s survival. From a young age, many of us learn that our natural ways of being aren’t always accepted by others.
For autism, masking might mean forcing eye contact, copying the way others talk or behave, holding back stims, or pretending not to be overwhelmed in noisy, chaotic places. For ADHD, masking can look like overcompensating with rigid to-do lists, laughing off mistakes, or forcing yourself to sit still even when your body is desperate to move.
When you combine both, it becomes a double act — a performance that takes place almost every time you step out the door.
Living With Two Masks
For years, I didn’t even realise I was wearing two masks. It felt “normal” to script conversations in my head, to copy people’s expressions, to force myself to look organised, to laugh louder than I felt inside just to keep up socially.
But behind those masks, I was exhausted.
After a day of work or socialising, I’d collapse into silence. I’d replay conversations over and over, worrying if I’d said the wrong thing. My body ached from holding in stims and fidgets. My mind buzzed from the effort of holding it all together.
The world saw someone capable, chatty, and put-together. Inside, I felt like I was barely surviving.
Why We Mask
We mask because, at some point, we learned that our authentic selves weren’t welcome. Maybe it was being told we were “too much” as kids, or getting side-eyes for being “awkward” in a group, or being punished for not sitting still in school.
Masking becomes second nature because it keeps us safe. It avoids bullying, judgment, rejection, or awkward questions. But while it protects us, it also erases us.
The Cost of Double Masking
When you’re masking both autism and ADHD, the toll is huge.
Burnout: The mental load of constantly performing eventually catches up with you. Identity confusion: After years of masking, it’s hard to know who the “real me” is. Emotional toll: Suppressing your needs creates shame, anxiety, and often depression. Physical exhaustion: Your body feels it, too — in tension, headaches, or sheer fatigue.
For me, the hardest part was realising I didn’t even know where the mask ended and where I began.
My Turning Point
I hit a point where the double mask wasn’t sustainable anymore. I was burned out, irritable, and constantly drained. I knew I couldn’t keep living like that — but I also didn’t know how to stop.
Slowly, with diagnosis and more self-understanding, I began to experiment with safe spaces where I could drop the mask. With close friends, at home, online — I tested what it felt like to stim openly, to admit I was overwhelmed, to let myself fidget instead of forcing stillness.
It was terrifying at first, but also liberating.
Learning to Unmask Gently
Unmasking doesn’t happen overnight. It’s not about ripping both masks off and suddenly being “authentic” everywhere. It’s about choosing moments where it feels safe and kind to yourself.
Here are some of the ways I started to unmask:
Tracking when I masked most helped me notice patterns. Paying attention to energy levels I could literally see how much masking cost me in a day. Practising honesty: Small statements like, “I need a quiet moment” or “I’m fidgety today” helped me show up more authentically without feeling exposed. I’ve created a 7 day guidebook on unmasking here.
And the FREE Diagnosis Roadmap was key in reminding me that unmasking wasn’t just personal — it was something professionals needed to see, too, if I wanted the right diagnosis and support.
What I’ve Learned From Double Masking
Masking taught me resilience, but it also hid my struggles. It kept me safe, but it cost me energy. Now, I’m learning that I don’t always have to perform. The people who love me will accept me with the stims, the tangents, the awkward pauses, and the ADHD messiness.
The truth is: dropping the mask feels scary — but keeping it on forever is scarier.
Conclusion
Wearing two masks at once might feel like survival, but it isn’t sustainable. The good news is, you don’t have to unmask everywhere, all at once. You can choose safe places, small steps, and gentle honesty.
For me, unmasking has been a slow but powerful process of finding out who I really am underneath the performance. And for the first time, I’m learning that the real me is more than enough.
