🎭 Tamás Bartók: Masking 🎭

“Masking is a term explaining how neurodivergent people feel the need to camouflage in
social situations to appear neurotypical. Masking is a form of social survival displayed in
different ways depending on the behaviours the individual wants to conceal.”

— Mia Barnes, Psychreg

I have always been different from the others. I can’t explain exactly how; I just was. I
always took things more seriously than others. I fidgeted more than other people, and I was
inattentive. All in all, I was socially awkward.
It didn’t take long for the bullies to find me. It all started with friendly teasing. I didn’t
get it at the time; and they saw my bad reaction to it. I took everything to heart. The adults
also couldn’t understand me. They told me to just shrug it off, ignore the bullies; and that was
exactly what I tried. When they came for me the next time I just shut down, locking out my
consciousness from my surroundings.
Years have passed and moved many schools, but the bullies somehow always found
me. I realized that I was doing something wrong. The constant shutdowns although made me
more resilient, but it also made me vulnerable; and most of all lonely. I had to employ a
different strategy. I had to put on a mask.
High school came and I tried my new mask. When people tried to approach me I
resorted to verbal aggression. I wasn’t aggressive or at least I wouldn’t have been on my own,
but my bullies have taught me well. I was even aggressive towards people who showed
temporary weakness. The beauty of it was that it was still not traditional bulling. I was
indiscriminate when I choose a target, and as an added bonus, I entertained the people who
were present when I verbally attacked someone. Eventually people started to fear me. I was
completely unpredictable. I humiliated people on a whim. I managed to protect myself form
others, but in the end, I became unbearably lonely.
To combat the loneliness that came with my intimidating behaviour, I came up with
more masks. My personality shattered into million forms. Eventually I had a mask for every
single person I interacted with. I started to adopt their personalities as masks when I talked to
them. Of course this made me a pleasant person, since everyone found something in common
in me. But this came with a great price.
I got so preoccupied with my masks that I didn’t realise that in the process I lost my
true face. My masks have permanently burned onto my face. I have become so afraid of
becoming an outcast again that I automatically tried to be appealing to every single person.
Rejection and abandonment became my worst fears. I have even started to put on masks for
people who would have understood me the way I was. I frantically tried to meet everyone’s
expectations, absolutely everyone’s.
 I have been living in this lie for years. I completely lost who I am. Now I cannot even
form plans for my future. I just no longer know what I want to be. I don’t know who I want to
be; and this is tremendously exhausting. Not to mention that I still have to keep up with my
facade. Even though that has become subconscious, I still find it increasingly difficult to cope
with. I stare in the mirror; my masks shatter; and I see that I no longer have a face.
Now I realise that I can never be truly happy with my life. The future looks grimmer
than it ever looked. I cannot achieve anything. Not that I know what I want to achieve. The
anxiety is getting worse and worse. I wake up with an upset stomach every single day. I don’t
even have real friends. No one knows me, and no one wants to be true friends with a stranger.
I don’t blame them. I blame myself. How can anyone know me when even I don’t know
myself. I am even trying to pursue a career that others have set for me. I truly hate my life,
and myself.
I feel like I am stuck in a tar pool. I cannot climb out. No one can help me. I have to
solve this on my own. But at this point does it really matter? Probably not. I know how to
escape from this trap. I know what I can do to end this misery. It has always seemed easy, but
now that I want to do it, it seems hard. I have to prepare myself. Some people might miss me,
but my pain is greater than theirs will be.
I write my goodbye letter; leave it on my desk to make it easily findable. Then I grab a
sharp BBQ knife from the kitchen. I walk into the bathroom so it will be easy to clean up the
mess. I do it. I just wait for my last slumber to come. The depression end; the anxiety is
killed; and finally, the masking is over.