The End-of-Year Crash: Learning How To Recognize and Address Masking Fatigue
I made it through this past week. I did it. What now? I honestly don’t fully know. All I know is that I’m just incredibly fatigued and burnt out. Incredibly.
I know that I’ve been masking for a long time. I started masking pretty early in my life, and it’s incredibly hard to recognize that I do it, even at this point in my life. Masking was formed as a protective mechanism to help me blend in and make it through school and my life in general.
I was never fully allowed to be myself, growing up. That’s the honest truth and the unfortunate reality. I was praised for “behaving” and taking up as little space as possible. The less needy and expressive that I was as a child, the better. Honestly, safer too.
The Influence of Family Dynamics on Masking
I remember, when I was incredibly young (about 2 years old), I loved to dance. I was constantly freely dancing to music around the house with my sister (Britney Spears was our all-time favorite). There was no shame whatsoever with how I moved my body. Music was everything, and I was constantly moving and stimming freely.
That was when I was 2 years old. At some point in my life, that changed. And it changed incredibly quickly.
I do remember the very first time that I started to be self-conscious of my own body. I was four. We were over at my grandparents’ on my dad’s side of the family, with my cousins and aunt. It was a holiday, possibly Thanksgiving. I still remember it well, likely because it was the catalyst to the deterioration of my self-image and the formation of the critical, self-deprecating thoughts in my head.
Anyway, we were just standing in the kitchen. My aunt decided that it would be fun to judge belly buttons, try to see who had the cleanest belly button. It was really odd, honestly. My aunt pulled my shirt up, without even asking me, and then gasped super loudly and dramatically.
Remember, I was four years old. I didn’t understand her reaction at all.
Then my aunt, cousin, and grandma all proceeded to laugh at me and told me that I was a disgusting pig. They made jabs at my mom, making fun of her for not cleaning my belly button, saying we were filthy and disgusting. They made me feel incredibly embarrassed, and actually told me that I shouldn’t go out into public until I got my belly button cleaning sorted out.
I was disgusting. I was bad. That is what they wanted me to believe. For some people it’s fun, making other people miserable and completely taking away all autonomy. They are miserable and deeply hate themselves, but they find joy in messing with and emotionally scaring the vulnerable people in their lives.
Then, I went to school where my classmates and teachers also bullied me. I was the quiet, dumb, weird kid at school — I was an incredibly easy target. In elementary school, a lot of people would talk and make fun of me to their friends, right in front of me. They acted like I wasn’t there and would call me the r-slur. People also actually asked me to my face, “Are you (the r-slur)?” I absolutely hated school. School and family were both bullies and absolutely terrible when it came to the formation of my sense of self and overall confidence. Honestly zero stars, wouldn’t recommend at all.
So, I actually have layers upon layers of masks that I have formed over the years. Just to survive. Yay me.
Neither my mom nor my dad ever stood up to my family. They always just took everything and never took a firm stand against any of it — so that is exactly what I did too. No one knew about the bullying at school. I just pushed through and masked my way through school. I truly believed that I deserved the treatment that I received. The problem was me, and I just needed to do better. Be better. I learned over the years to absolutely hate myself.
I realize now that even though my parents had no intention of it, that’s exactly how I developed my sense of self — formed by a fragmented self-esteem, where I learned to constantly shame and never trust my own self.
It’s sad and a terrible thing to have to reconcile with and untangle now as a full-grown adult. But I’ve begun to realize that I have to. I can’t continue to manage and get through my life like this — it’s incredibly unsustainable and will likely lead to more health issues and instability as I continue to age.
Masking and The Deterioration of Health
My nervous system is mostly always in a state of hyperarousal. I’ve always lived with incredibly high levels of anxiety that are likely going to weigh much more heavily on my health as I get older. I need to change this, and really the only way to improve this is by unmasking and working through my shame.
I like to think of it like a computer slowly overheating, smoking, and then eventually completely bursting into flames. I’ve already slowly started to overheat, and I think at this point in my life I’m now smoking. I don’t have a whole lot of time before I am bursting into flames.
Or, if I don’t do anything, then at some point, I will be bursting into flames. I won’t have a choice, then. Right now, I still have a choice — I can work on this. I can actually better understand my anxiety, rather than shame it. Or mask over it. I deserve to heal and have a lower level of anxiety overall. I deserve to enjoy my life with confidence.
Moving Towards a Healthier, Unmasked Version Of Myself
I have to go back to the very beginning, when I first started masking. Understand that the people that heavily influenced my need to mask didn’t know more than I did. They were in no way more justified in their beliefs than I was.
Also, they are completely out of my life now — I don’t have to get their input or continue allowing their input to influence how I think about myself. I’m working with myself now. I’m going to need to teach myself self-compassion and learn how to trust my own perspective of the world around me. Gaining my own trust, with myself, is incredibly important.
It’s not at all going to be easy, but thankfully I’m on summer break now. Away from a school environment, I’m able to better figure out the ways in which I mask. With a clear head. I’m able to take time to get more comfortable unmasking.
It’ll take time and work, but I’m going to be okay. Even if it makes some people uncomfortable, I can live my life unmasked. I can be more authentic. I shouldn’t have to continue masking.
And if someone doesn’t like that, I’ve got to learn to be okay with that. A lot of the time, it’s primarily a person’s own preference, which in no way indicates that I am a bad person. Or that I am doing something wrong. I’m allowed to be my true neurodivergent self. We’re all allowed to be our neurodivergent selves with no shame.
Love,
Kaitlin
