Removing the mask I didn't realize I had cultivated for years...

Although the actual date eludes me, I will never forget the night almost 2 years ago when my friend Desiree texted me one night. She was driving enroute to Arizona for a visit and was listening to an audio book. So, I get this text to the effect of "hey dude, have you read Unmasking Autism by Devon Price?" Now she knows I am a voracious reader, but I said "no, why?" She then went on to describe this book that is about autism that she thought I might find "really interesting." I giggled as I read and was quick to respond, "do you mean I will find it randomly interesting or are you trying to slow walk me to something?" Brief pause in the texting..."Well, it's just as I'm listening to it, a lot of it is reminding me of you when we were growing up." I giggled again and said I would check it out. I did. That night. If I had not known I had to get up in the morning as primary caregiver for my mom, I would have stayed up all night finishing the book as I felt so much of it had been written about me. Instead, I finished it the next day. This was the 2nd time in my life I had been reached out to regarding a book that was resonating with the person as being applicable to myself. (The 1st was Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, when my therapist at the time called me from her vacation, poolside, to say "Stop what you are doing and go buy this book right now, it is about you." I did and she was correct.) Turns out it was to be the 2nd time someone who knew me was spot on.

Now, in all fairness as the subject of autism had come up with my aunt's best friend prior to my aunts passing as she was convinced my aunt was indeed autistic, I had already been doing a bit of research and would be lying if I said it didn't feel familiar. Also, my aunt and I had albeit a very unique relationship, but a very close one as well. I can't count the times I had commented over the years that genetics mattered as she was the person in my family I related to the most. My aunt passed away without a diagnosis, or at least one we knew about. Fast forward a few months later and my therapist had recommended a therapist who specialized in autism testing and I was officially diagnosed as being ASD Level 1. I remember the night before getting my diagnosis my mom anxiously looked at me and asked if I was hoping that I was or was not autistic and how I felt about it. I didn't have to think about it as I had spent a large portion of my 50 years on this earth trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me. Because whether I shared it with others or not, I knew I was different. After years of different therapists & a psychiatrist, they all agreed I was hyper-sensitive, but not bi-polar, etc. I remember the last therapist I had gone to at Kaiser whilst still in my corporate job because I literally thought I was losing my mind and the sweet man says to me on my 3rd visit, "I feel so bad, but I don't think I can treat you." Ok... He went on to explain I was in fact the most self-aware person he had ever encountered and had absolutely no idea how he could help. Keep in mind that although they are only really now learning about autism in women, especially late diagnosed and this was 13 years earlier, so perhaps frustrating to reflect on, but not really a surprise.

Now before I dive into the masking aspect and the whole impetus of this piece, let me share a few of the traits that resonated, nay, are absolutely me, as I am sure many others can relate. Of course, autism is in fact a vast and varied spectrum, so this is just my list. Again, for ease, bullet points:

• Desperate need for being alone after large groups or "peopling" to recharge.

• Hyper-sensitive

• Strong sense of injustice in the world - craving for things to be "fair"

• High energy

• Super literal

• Intensely empathetic

• Painfully honest

• Lack of filter

• Mimicking others

• Anxiety (often mis-diagnosed as depression)

• Lack of emotional armor

• Not understand how most women communicate

• Artistic / creative

• Observant to details, especially the small ones

• Childlike interests - youthful things / toys

• Repetitive behaviors / routines

• Loathing of surprises or last-minute changes to plans

• Emotional meltdowns seemingly out of no where

• Intense eye contact - ironically opposite of many male autistics, often confused as flirtation

• Particular about textures and temperatures of food

• Crappy spatial awareness - I often have bruises on hands or legs from walking like a kid and swinging my arms without paying attention - file cabinets were my nemesis.

• High tolerance for physical pain

• Stimming - mine was and is still often walking or standing on the balls of my feet when anxious (I have insanely strong calf muscles!)

• Incredibly detailed story telling

• Steel trap of a memory for details

• Inability to sit still for long periods of time

• My personal favorite (insert sarcasm here) info dumping

I took the time to list these all out for the simple purpose of allowing for the opportunity of better understanding why "masking" is so exhaustive and detrimental to one's mental health, especially when undiagnosed.

Prior to my diagnosis, I certainly knew all these things about myself, but thought of them more as quirks. One of my prior bosses used to introduce me as the "resident eccentric" when new people came to the office and stopped by my desk, which I actually found to be a compliment as I was quite used to being, well, me. I didn't even realize at the time just how exhausted I was as again; I had been living this way for most of my life. Now of course I am more comfortable saying I was surviving my life; not living it. I had work so hard over the years to take my very shy, kind and overtly people pleasing self and train her to fit in. I had spent large chunks of my early childhood watching others, like some alien species I wanted to be like. I say alien because I didn't understand why people did the things they did. The lack of transparency. Saying what was popular or trendy at the time, instead of what was actually on their mind. I noticed this because when you are young and quiet people don't notice you as much. That meant I got to hear a lot of conversations I probably wasn't supposed to and I started seeing discrepancies in what was being said. And lord give me strength, small talk. To this day I loathe small talk, and I can honestly say it is simply because I don't understand it or its purpose.

I remember once when I was in middle school and I didn't have a lot of friends, but this one girl Anna I knew called me one day to talk on the phone. My mom was so excited because I was actually getting a call as one might expect a 6th grade girl to get. After what I remember as being about 2 minutes on the phone (felt like 90) I finally asked why she had called me. She responded something to the effect of "I dunno, just wanted to see what you were up to." "Huh, well if you figure out something to talk about feel free to call back" and I hung up the phone and went back to my room. The fact that my mother did not die of horror at that moment was a shock, but when she came and found me and asked what the heck I was thinking, I simply said, "well, I was doing something else, and it was stupid." I can still see the look on her face, abject horror. I mean, my mom was neurotypical, from a small town, married to a British guy (my dad) and Canadian so that kind of social Fuapau set her teeth on edge. I still don't understand why anyone would call if they don't have something they want to talk about, so most people know not to call me. I still want to hug whoever creating texting as it simply makes more sense to me. I would probably have had sex with the person who created texting if they had created a built-in design feature that would not allow texts to go through when you have been drinking...

On that subject once I started to better understand being autistic and "masking" it was so clear to me why both my overeating (lifetime struggle) and drinking went so off the rails when I had inadvertently overloaded my system. By my mid 30's I had fine-tuned my ability to be social and funny and thoughtful at enough of the right times that people who met me during that time thought it was naturally who I was. In retrospect it had taken me 2 decades of literally mimicking others and patching together enough socially acceptable behaviors, and some not that got me to the point where I was actually designated as the person in charge of all the event planning at my job along with being the litmus test for new applicants, as I had also earned a reputation for being able to read people well. People trusted me because I got to know them, and I mean KNOW them. I could tell when they were having an off day or feeling sad as I had watched them so closely so I would know how to interact with them. I would remember important details about them, or things that were important to them. I genuinely think most of us desire to be "seen" in this life, so it was a skill that served me well. Let me be clear here as well. Although I now understand better why I did it (survival), I didn't mind as I am genuinely interested in people, and it helped me to better understand the world around me. Plus, let's be honest it feels good to make someone smile. Even more so when you have had to work so hard to figure them out.

There is an expression that most of us are familiar with and that is the higher one gets, the harder the fall. In the almost 10 years I worked at this job I had gone from someone who challenged themselves their first month to actually talk to everyone I worked with. It took me almost a month and I am not joking when I say, almost a bottle a day of Pepto Bismol, because my nerves got so frayed diarrhea would hit. Thank you Pepto Bismol! Fast forward almost 10 years, I had gastric bypass surgery (I had gotten up to 340lbs from emotional eating) and I was finally slim, attractive to others - so a whole new level of attention, had people who wanted to hang out with me, was climbing higher in my job with learning and responsibilities - bonusing every year, had gotten married 5 years in and was getting divorced, had an affair with a married man who I worked with and was drinking near constantly. A few months before I quit drinking, I awoke on my living room floor of the tiny cottage I rented in the middle of the day one Saturday and realized I had taken approximately a dozen or so Ambien (my prescription bottle was empty on floor next to me) on top of drinking straight gin and somehow I was still alive and still did not stop drinking then. It was a few months later right before I found out my father was dying of Lung Cancer that I finally got sober. My entire world was crashing hard and to this day I am still not sure how I made it through that period. My relationship was in the toilet. I was failing at my job. Several co-workers hated me, with good reason. What I understand now is that I was simply unable to read any of the normal signals that I was actively destroying myself as I really had zero idea of who I actually was. That steel trap of a memory held onto every horrible behavior I did, every thought released unfiltered out to someone I loved deeply but felt so hurt by, that there was no amount of numbing that would shut my mind off. I left my job and my father died a couple weeks later in my arms. The next few years were humbling to say the least as I made peace with who I had become and everything I had done.

Fast forward 10 years and Covid hit.  I had given up my massage practice (which I trained for after my dad died so I could avoid an office job) as I had gotten fibromyalgia. By this point I was remarried and caregiving for my mom who had been diagnosed with IPF a week before I got married. During Covid I was hyper-vigilant whenever I went out as the risk to my mom and her lung disease was huge, but like most, we got through it. The funny part for me is I started to joke that Covid had acted as a reset button for me. I had rediscovered my introvert self. Sure, I could gab with the best of them when out in short bursts, but found I no longer missed being the center of attention and craved my artwork, nesting at home, working behind the scenes and of course my forever love - reading. I realized once I got my Autism diagnosis and started learning everything I could about it that Covid had in fact unmasked me. I was gifted with almost a 2-year window with my husband now working from home and caring for my mom that I had no reason to mask. For that, despite what a painful and honestly scary time it was, I was inadvertently freed from being the person I had worked so hard to become and I remain grateful. The funny part is masking didn't make me a different person per se, just a more extreme version of me and I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy a lot of it.

About 6 months after my diagnosis my mom passed away, also in my arms as my father had and I was able to really start to grieve. Not just the loss of family, but the realization of how much of my life I had lost trying to be someone I wasn't. A year and a half after my mom's passing, life is pretty damn good. I am able to laugh at some of the mistakes I made, deal with the shame from some and come to terms with the fact if I had to do it all over again I would because I learned so much! With my husband Brodie getting ready to retire next year I am currently going through Jay Shetty's Certification School to get certified as a life coach so I can work with other neurodivergent women and support their journeys in finding their self-worth and the building of the lives they wish to achieve. Best part is for the most part it is done online or for those I will eventually see in my home office, it will be one on one. I do hope to do larger groups and workshops when I'm ready as I know personally how much one can benefit from them. But mostly I continue to read and absorb as much information on Autism as I can as so much of it is still being researched and discovered every day.  My sobriety keeps me grounded and food, well...that I shall enjoy the roller coaster until I die (thank God for different sized jeans). I enjoy our home as my husband Brodie is supportive of all the art projects that permeate every square inch of our home with every color of the rainbow in full force & of course the furries 4 (our 4 black cats) keep my soul calm and I am grateful beyond words every single day that I no longer have to "mask" to survive.