Nat, one of our incredible Spoony community members, explores her experiences of masking as a neurodivergent person in a powerful letter written to her mask.
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Dear Mask,
You and I have been inseparable for as long as I can remember. You are my armour, my shield, my disguise. Since childhood, you’ve helped me navigate a world that wasn’t built for me. With you, I can blend in, adapt, and present whatever version of myself feels safest in the moment. You’ve kept me from standing out in ways that might bring judgement, rejection, or worse—hurt.
I’ve worn you so well and for so long that sometimes I forget where you end and I begin. The moment I sense that my true thoughts, emotions, or reactions might not align with what’s expected of me, you slip into place without hesitation. I have one of you for every situation, every social setting, every version of myself that might be more “acceptable” than the real me. You have been my survival tool, my safety net.
But lately, I’ve started to wonder—what is the cost of wearing you?
At first, you made things easier. You protected me from judgement, helped me fit in, and kept my vulnerabilities hidden. You gave me a sense of control when my emotions felt overwhelming, when uncertainty loomed too large. With you, I could regulate how I was perceived, avoiding the discomfort of being too much or not enough. You made the world feel safer.
But the truth is, you’ve also made my world lonelier.
Because when I wear you, no one truly sees me. And if they don’t see me, how can they know me? How can they love me? The energy it takes to maintain you—to constantly monitor, filter, and shape myself into something palatable—is exhausting. And the longer I wear you, the more I lose touch with who I actually am. I start questioning whether the person beneath you is even real or yet another version of my performance.
I’ve come to realise that while you may have protected me, you’ve also trapped me.
So, dear Mask, it’s time for a change. I’m not going to take you off in one big reveal like they do in the movies—that would be too much, too soon. Instead, I’m going to learn how to peel back your layers, bit by bit. I’m going to test the waters of unmasking, allowing pieces of my true self to come through. I know it won’t be easy. Vulnerability is terrifying, and the world isn’t always kind to those who stop pretending.
But I don’t want to live my life hiding. I don’t want my relationships to be built on illusions. I want to be seen, known, and loved for who I am—not for the version of me that you’ve curated. Little by little, I want to learn how to be real.
So thank you, Mask, for everything. I see why I needed you. But I think it’s time for me to step out from behind you and see who I am without you.
Nat is a writer with a passion for art, music, and nature. Through writing, she explores life and humanity with curiosity and insight.