I Didn’t Know I Was Masking

AWRYTE | Weekly Post I didn’t know what masking was. I just knew I felt like a different person in every room. That certain tones made my stomach clench. That I had to rehearse how to say “hi” without sounding weird. That I came home from school and collapsed—no noise, no talking, just nothing. Everyone said I was “so good.” I was “such a joy to have in class.” I was “mature for my age.” They didn’t see the rest. The shutdowns. The stomachaches. The way I’d replay every interaction on a loop until I cried. I wasn’t faking. I was surviving. I didn’t have the words for it, but I knew what was expected: Smile. Sit still. Make eye contact. Don’t interrupt. Laugh at the right time. Don’t correct anyone. Don’t ask weird questions. Don’t be weird. And if you can’t help it, hide it.

So I did. I copied how the other girls tilted their heads. I practiced my laugh in the mirror. I matched the way they said “like” and “uh-huh” and “oh my god” so I wouldn’t stand out. It was like learning choreography without a mirror. And I was good at it. Too good.

No one noticed how much energy it took. How I needed hours alone to recover. How even the fun parts—field trips, assemblies, birthday parties—left me overstimulated and miserable. I wasn’t moody. I was depleted.

They called it “social skills.” I called it acting. They said I was “just shy.” I was actually calculating every move I made. They said I was “sensitive.” But I knew I was just full to the brim.

The mask became default. Even with family. Even with friends. Even with people I loved. Because once you learn that your real self makes people uncomfortable, you start believing it’s your job to be someone else.

It didn’t click until adulthood. Not when I got diagnosed with ADHD. Not when I got told I had anxiety. Not even when I burned out. It clicked when I read the word “masking” and felt like someone had opened a window in my chest. That’s what this was. That’s why I couldn’t “just relax.” That’s why I never felt safe unless I was invisible.

AWRYTE is where the mask comes off. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But slowly. Carefully. Honestly. Where I let the real expressions show. Where I stop apologizing for the way I process the world. Where I unlearn the belief that being good means being silent.

If you’ve been performing so long you don’t know what’s under it— If you’ve been called “too much” and “not enough” in the same breath— If you’ve built your life around being easy to love— You’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re just masked. And tired. And ready for real.