The performance isn't free. It never was.

There was a version of me that turned up to work every day for about 25 years. He made the right amount of eye contact. Laughed at the right moments. Kept his inner monolgue locked in tight. Sat through meetings without visibly losing the will to live, nodded in the right places, and never once 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.

He was also completely knackered by about 2pm every single day, and nobody — including him — understood why.

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.

Most autistic and ADHD people feel forced to get very good at this. Not because we’re duplicitous — because we’ve learned, usually the hard way, that the alternative gets punished. The pause. The look. Being told you’re being “weird”. Being described as difficult when you thought you were being clear.

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 performance reviews or office politics.

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. Not because of the work — the work was good. Because of who I was. The way I communicated, processed things, showed up when I wasn’t performing. 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. The mask didn’t just get heavy. It became impossible.

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.

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 slightly nauseated.

What I am saying is there’s a difference between making neurotypical people uncomfortable and making yourself invisible so they stay comfortable. It’s a subtle difference. It matters.

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.