Level 1 Autism: Masking, Identity Confusion, and Authenticity
As someone with level 1 (high-functioning) autism, there is a grieving process for the life I would or could have had. Unlike what many parents worry about (Will she ever do this? Will she ever experience this?), my thoughts are wishes rather than worries: I wish I could go to concerts with friends. I wish I could do small talk. I wish I didn’t need accommodations. The list is endless; however, one aspect of autism stands out above the rest. It drains my self-esteem, confidence, and willpower. It confuses me and the people around me. “It” is my authentic self; I wish I knew who I really am.
A large part of adolescence is discovering who you want to be. What people do I want to surround myself with? What are my interests and passions? What do I want people to know about me or see in me? Erik Erikson, a prominent psychoanalyst in the twentieth century divided human life into 8 stages of psychosocial development. His fifth stage, identity vs. role confusion, is defined as a psychosocial crisis every adolescent (ages 12-18) experiences. During this crisis (also called an identity crisis), the adolescent forms their identity. An identity is comprised of two contradictory yet simultaneous understandings: self-sameness and uniqueness. Self-sameness is when your perception of yourself matches with others’ perception of you. An example: I think I am a kind person and other people think I am a kind person. Uniqueness is the identifiable features about yourself that you know are different, but that you claim as part of your one-of-a-kind identity. An example: I am obsessed with World War II. That sets me apart from others, but I embrace it.
When an identity does not develop according to plan, you enter what Erikson termed as “role confusion.” You don’t understand who you are, why you do the things you do, or who you want to be. People with level 1 autism often get stuck in role confusion because our identities are only 50% complete. We have a strong sense of uniqueness; boy, do we know we are different. Before we were autistic, we were “quirky” or “odd.” Where we struggle is our sense of self-sameness, specifically: I know I am autistic, but do others believe it? People tell us: “Well, you don’t look autistic.” “You don’t act like my grandson who is autistic.” “But, you’re so smart.” “You talk just fine to me.” These comments throw us into a vicious cycle of broken self-sameness. We start believing: If I can learn to act normal, then I will be normal. How do we act normal? We use a strategy/coping mechanism called masking. Masking is almost exclusively tied to level 1 autism and is interestingly most prominent in females. The definition of autistic masking is hiding one’s authentic self to fit inside society’s box. A box not-so-lovingly defined as “normal.” Need to take a walk? Scratch that, “normal” people can sit through a 45-minute class. No eye-contact? Absolutely not, “normal” people make eye contact.
As we mature, we pick up on “normal” behaviors that are not intuitive to us and we begin to do those things, especially in public/social contexts, but remembering what to do, when do to it, and how to do it, is exhausting. It is almost like preparing a show for an audience. When I hear this line, I will say this. When this person enters stage left, I will make this facial expression. We are putting on a mask, hence the name. In an attempt to reach self-sameness by identifying ourselves as normal, we fall short, and instead, we are normal by others’ standards, but still autistic by our own.
Self-sameness score: inward–I know I am autistic, outward–others think I am normal. Hello, role confusion!
To fix the problem, we try to be our actual selves; time to take off the mask, but, not so fast. Unmasking is super difficult. Because we have upheld an inauthentic public persona for so long, we are terrified of what people will think about our real selves. Instead of “Well, you don’t look autistic,” now we get “Faker!” “What happened to you?” “You’re not autistic, you’re just anxious. We all feel anxiety.” We start to worry: will our perceptions of ourselves ever match others’ perceptions of us? In all honesty, I cannot answer this yet, because I haven’t figured it out myself. Just the other day, I was in a loud, chaotic environment where I could not mask. I was overwhelmed and my brain was dealing with too much harmful sensory stimuli. When an autistic brain is in overdrive, it starts to shut down certain functions to preserve energy and prepare to block incoming stimuli, so, my ability to mask faded. I couldn’t use rehearsed responses, eye contact, or facial expressions. When someone I knew approached me and tried to chat, I responded flatly with one sentence and then silence; I couldn’t keep the conversation up. Later that day, I was removed from that overwhelming environment and the same person came to talk to me. This time I was ready; eye contact, check, social pleasantries, check, personal story, check. I was ready to have a “normal” conversation, and I did. However, after I left that conversation, I was wracked with regret. Shoot! I just had an entire “normal” conversation after barely muttering 3 words earlier. What do they think of me now? I bet they probably think I was faking my autism in the first interaction. I leave thinking my reputation with that person is ruined. This is the difficulty with masking. Not only is it mentally and emotionally draining because of the planning and execution of trying so hard to be “normal,” but when it fails us, and our true, autistic tendencies/interactions are exposed, we are left reeling in regret and shame. Self-sameness score: inward–I know I am autistic, outward–others don’t believe it.
No matter what I seem to do, I cannot get my perception of myself to match others’ perceptions of me, and vice versa. I am caught in a perpetual state of incomplete self-sameness and therefore an incomplete identity. I do not know who I am. Am I my intuitive self or my masked self? I begin to doubt my own diagnosis. Maybe I am a faker? If I can mask so well, maybe it is not masking or mimicking at all, maybe I actually do have social skills.
While I have long since accepted the correctness of my diagnosis thanks to working in a ministry with people who can, and do, tell me my autistic characteristics (thanks, Christina), I am unsure if my perception of myself will ever match others’ perceptions of me. I am too scared to quit masking altogether. I don’t want to be a “faker, “attention-seeker,” or worse. I don’t want to be different, yet I know I am not normal. I am high-functioning enough to identify my own autistic characteristics, and if I can identify them, I can fix them, right? But if I fix them, will I still be autistic? The problem with “fixing” my autism is that I am ignoring how God made me. I am ignoring my intuitive thoughts, feelings, and needs. Fighting against your true self is draining and confusing, but will I ever be able to stop? I encourage you, readers, to never make a comment like “you don’t look autistic” or “you’re faking it” to anyone. Think it, sure, but say it, preferably not. While identity is majorly an internal battle, it is greatly influenced by external factors and perceptions (as you have learned with self-sameness). What can we do for level 1 autistics who feel lost in themselves, feeling like they need to hide away? As best as you can, help them come to terms with their diagnosis. If anything has helped my sense of self, it is my confidence in my diagnosis. When others point out my autistic characteristics, I don’t feel ashamed, I feel understood; they are affirming my beliefs about myself. They are affirming my autism.
Self-sameness score: inward–I know I am autistic, outward–they know I am autistic.
Post Script: Thanks for hanging in there, identity can be pretty confusing. Add masking to the equation, and everything gets even more confusing. Autistic masking is shockingly common but very hard to identify. Perhaps you are a “safe person” and your autistic friend or relative is always authentic around you, or perhaps you have a friend you don’t even know is autistic because they always mask. Masking is a complex topic with serious, negative effects on mental health and self-esteem. If you are interested in learning more about masking, visit my essay linked below.
July 14, 2024
