26 May 2025 3 min read

The Quiet Work of Coming Home to Yourself

Unmasking is often painted as a destination—a grand reveal, a dramatic letting-go of who we were and a bold embrace of who we truly are. But for many of us, especially autistic adults navigating late diagnosis, it’s not that simple. It’s not just about peeling off the mask. It’s about finding a safe place to do it.

Not Everyone Can Unmask the Same Way

Unmasking is often talked about like it’s just a matter of courage. But the truth is, not everyone holds the same privileges when it comes to safety, acceptance, or even the option to mask in the first place. For some, masking is a survival strategy in environments that punish difference. For others, unmasking can come with very real risks—job security, social relationships, or even physical safety.

For many in marginalized communities—whether due to race, gender identity, sexuality, disability, class, or religion—unmasking can carry added risk. Being openly autistic while also being black, trans, undocumented, or visibly disabled, for example, can amplify discrimination and violence. Some workplaces, schools, or cultures may not only misunderstand neurodivergence—they may punish or pathologize it. In some environments, just being different is enough to be seen as a threat. For these individuals, masking isn’t a choice. It’s protection.

This is why unmasking shouldn’t be seen as a universal step or a moral obligation. It’s not “braver” to unmask when someone else might be risking their job, safety, or life to do the same. The goal isn’t to perform authenticity. The goal is to create a world where everyone can exist as they are—safely, fully, and without shame.

My Small, Powerful Acts of Unmasking

Over the past few months, I’ve been experimenting with ways to quietly, safely unmask—mostly in private or low-stakes spaces. And I’ve learned that even small shifts can feel radical when you’ve spent a lifetime hiding your natural self.

Here are a few things I’ve started doing:

Bringing a weighted stuffy when I drive. It helps regulate my nervous system, keeps me calm, and actually makes trips more enjoyable. The sensory comfort is grounding in a way I never knew I needed.
Wearing a weighted neck wrap while working. It’s purple, soft, and shaped like a monkey (because why not?). When I feel dysregulated or overstimulated by the work environment, I gently tighten it so it rests against my face. The softness and pressure soothe me. I even add rose scent to it—something I find deeply calming.
Using fidget tools that work for me. I’m exploring more of them lately—soft squishies, toys with spinning or moving parts, and one that holds a small rose-scented stone. They help me focus, but they also just bring me joy.
Letting my silly, goofy, childlike self out at home. This one might be the most freeing. I spent so long keeping that part of me hidden, worried about seeming immature or “weird.” But being playful—really, fully playful—has helped me reconnect with a version of myself I’d almost forgotten.
Wearing only comfortable clothes. I’ve stopped forcing myself into stiff fabrics and dress codes that feel like costumes. I’ve found clothes that look put-together but feel like sweats. Pima cotton has become a favorite—soft, breathable, and gentle on my skin. A small change, but it’s made a big difference.

You Don’t Have to Start Big

Unmasking doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. Sometimes it’s just letting yourself stim without shame, or giving yourself permission to dress for comfort, or making space to feel joy in the ways that come naturally to you.

If you can’t unmask everywhere, that’s okay. If it still feels scary, that’s valid. You don’t owe anyone a performance of authenticity. But you do deserve a life where you can breathe, move, and exist without contorting yourself into someone else’s idea of “normal.”

Start where you are. Start safe. Start small if you need to. But if you can, start.

The Quiet Work of Coming Home

Unmasking isn’t about arriving at some perfect, final version of yourself. It’s about giving yourself permission—to explore, to regulate, to be. Some days will feel like progress. Other days, like setbacks. But every time you choose comfort over conformity, honesty over performance, softness over shame—you’re unmasking.

💬 What’s one small sensory comfort you could invite into your day today?
It doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be yours.

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Thank you for being here. If this post resonated with you, feel free to share it, or just know you’re not alone on this journey. We’re all learning to come home to ourselves—one soft step at a time.