GHA
Well-Known Member
Adaptation and Masking — The Shared Reality
I’m an NT with a neurodiverse son. For decades, I’ve watched his journey — through bullying, misunderstanding, and difficult schooling. There were times when the world tried to measure him by standards that didn’t reflect his true abilities. But I didn’t give up, and neither did he.
Over the years, I’ve learned that adaptation and masking are not experiences unique to neurodiverse people. NTs do them too — at work, in social situations, in moments where the stakes are high. The difference is that NTs tend to do it selectively, for short periods, and then return to their natural state. Because it isn’t constant, it doesn’t drain them the way it can for a neurodiverse person who feels pressure to maintain it all the time.
Masking, in particular, is often misunderstood. It’s not just “acting a bit differently.” It’s running two versions of yourself at once: the one the world sees and the one you keep inside. Every gesture, every word, every reaction runs through an extra filter — Will they take this the wrong way? Will they misunderstand? Am I standing out too much? Doing that all day, every day, takes a huge toll.
This is why my son’s biggest breakthrough came with selective adaptation. He didn’t stop adapting — he learned when it was worth doing and when it was not. That shift meant his energy wasn’t consumed by constant self-monitoring; it was channelled into his work, his ideas, and the things that truly mattered to him.
Adaptation and masking will always exist, for everyone. But for a neurodiverse person, the key is to make them tools you choose, not armour you’re forced to wear every hour of the day. When used on your terms, they stop being an energy drain and become part of your strategy — a way to navigate the world without losing yourself, and a way to let your abilities speak for themselves.
I’m an NT with a neurodiverse son. For decades, I’ve watched his journey — through bullying, misunderstanding, and difficult schooling. There were times when the world tried to measure him by standards that didn’t reflect his true abilities. But I didn’t give up, and neither did he.
Over the years, I’ve learned that adaptation and masking are not experiences unique to neurodiverse people. NTs do them too — at work, in social situations, in moments where the stakes are high. The difference is that NTs tend to do it selectively, for short periods, and then return to their natural state. Because it isn’t constant, it doesn’t drain them the way it can for a neurodiverse person who feels pressure to maintain it all the time.
Masking, in particular, is often misunderstood. It’s not just “acting a bit differently.” It’s running two versions of yourself at once: the one the world sees and the one you keep inside. Every gesture, every word, every reaction runs through an extra filter — Will they take this the wrong way? Will they misunderstand? Am I standing out too much? Doing that all day, every day, takes a huge toll.
This is why my son’s biggest breakthrough came with selective adaptation. He didn’t stop adapting — he learned when it was worth doing and when it was not. That shift meant his energy wasn’t consumed by constant self-monitoring; it was channelled into his work, his ideas, and the things that truly mattered to him.
Adaptation and masking will always exist, for everyone. But for a neurodiverse person, the key is to make them tools you choose, not armour you’re forced to wear every hour of the day. When used on your terms, they stop being an energy drain and become part of your strategy — a way to navigate the world without losing yourself, and a way to let your abilities speak for themselves.
