The performance isn't free. It never was.

Having read this back a few times, I’ve found it easier if you think of Ronnie Corbett telling this story from an armchair, wearing a Pringle Jumper. But that might just be me.

There was a version of me that turned up to work every day for about 25 years. He thought he made the right amount of eye contact. Laughed at the right moments. Kept his inner monolgue locked in whenever possible. Sat through meetings without visibly losing the will to live, nodded in the right places, and rarely said what he was actually thinking, which was usually something along the lines of “why are we all in a room for this? Ooh, squirrel.”

He was good. Convincing. Professional, even. But also manipulated, bullied and scared to speak up.

That was masking, I just didn’t know it had a name until I was 45.

What is Neurodivergent masking?

For anyone who hasn’t come across the term: masking is the thing neurodivergent people do when they perform neurotypical behaviour in order to fit in. You adjust your tone, your face, your volume, your eye contact, your fidgeting, your reactions — all in real time, all whilst simultaneously trying to do whatever you’re actually supposed to be doing.

A lot of autistic and ADHD people feel pressured to get very good at this.

Not because we’re duplicitous — because we’ve learned that the alternative gets punished. The pause. The eye-roll. Being told you’re being “weird”. Being described as difficult when you thought you were being clear.

Don’t be weird. Don’t be sensitive. Don’t challenge the hierarchy.

I’ve never had a “proper” job. I started my own creative agency by 23. So my version of masking didn’t play out in job interviews.

And still, I masked. Because running your own thing doesn’t exempt you from it. If anything, it raises the stakes. You’re not just fitting in with colleagues — you’re holding together relationships with co-founders, clients, partners. People who need to trust you. So you soften your directness. You sit through the social bits you find excruciating. All the while, something doesn’t feel right.

Then, one day, the mask stopped working.

I got pushed out of a business I’d founded. Because of who I was. The way I communicated, processed things, showed up when I wasn’t masking. And at the time, I was also losing one of my oldest friends and my sister-in-law — both dying, both at the same time.

It was a few years after that when I got the diagnosis. Autism and ADHD, at 45. And, eventually, it all made sense. The traits that got me ostracised weren’t flaws. I wasn’t broken. They were just me — unfiltered. Meanwhile, at 40, I was lost, believed I was broken and regularly being told I’d let everyone down.

Post-diagnosis support

You’d think the diagnosis would be the turning point. It wasn’t. Not immediately. In the UK, post-diagnosis support is essentially non-existent — you get the label and then you’re on your own to figure out what it means, and what a better way to live means. I had to fail hard a few more times before I learned any kind of forgiveness for myself.

Learning to find a process to trust. Listening for the warning signs that I was heading for a burnout. Allowing myself to just. bloody. stop.

I’m not saying everyone should stop masking tomorrow morning. That would be terrible advice. And the “bring your whole self to work!” version of this conversation makes me more than slightly twitchy.

There’s a difference between making neurotypical people uncomfortable and making yourself invisible so they stay comfortable. It’s a subtle difference. It matters.

I still have a mask, but now I choose when to wear it.

I’m not at a point where I’m ready to leave the mask behind. I still need it now and again. The difference is, I choose when I want to wear it, and I take it off when I feel comfortable to. And if I don’t feel comfortable, I leave. No more grinning-and-bearing it. No more having my boundaries or my mental health trampled. If you still think I’m broken, that’s your problem, pal.

The performance isn’t free

I’ve been having a lot of these conversations through the Big Bad Beautiful Brains podcast recently. People at every stage — pre-diagnosis, post, never-going-to-seek-one-but-know-something’s-different. The common thread is always the cost of masking or being performative.

I lost a business to it. Not to the traits themselves — to the gap between who I was performing and who I actually am.

The performance isn’t free. It never was.

Hi! I'm James Kindred. I wrote this!

With over 25 years in design, branding and startups, I help businesses craft compelling identities, develop engaging assets, and build results-focused growth plans. I am AuDHD and bring my unique thought process to every project, ensuring that your brand is more than a logo. It's a reason to believe.