Entry #4: A Mask-erade Ball

Facial Un-expressions

    For as long as I can remember, I've been a bit... strange. I always thought the ways I acted and the things I did were fairly normal. The most my family ever said about my oddities was that it was "just the way I am." There's certainly nothing wrong with being yourself; that message is copy-pasted into every piece of children's media. Everyone wants you to be exactly who you are. Unless they don't like it. Unless it's unusual. Unless it's different.

    Since I was very young, I could not smile. I simply did not know how. I'm being 100% serious, I don't think I actually knew how to smile. At least not like everyone else did. If I was playing or laughing it would come naturally, I didn't have any issue with that. It was replicating it that stumped me. Say cheese! According to my family, I would push out my bottom jaw and make a somewhat upturned shape with my lips. I have no recollection of this ever happening. As far as I knew, I was smiling big and it looked beautiful. Similarly, my mom would often ask me what was wrong. Randomly. Nothing ever was wrong when she asked, so I was always confused. Every single time I would respond, "This is my happy face." in the most monotone voice. 

    I find that even now, when I think I'm flashing the biggest, happiest smile, I freeze my face and run to the closest mirror only to find it's a pathetic half-smile. Something's always wrong with the eyes. I've learned that this is actually called flat affect. It's very common in autism; the face and the voice don't line up with what you're trying to make them do. 

    For me, this always results in my family saying I have the funniest and wittiest humor in the family. I say funny comments on purpose, but I think my mannerisms and delivery make it funnier to others. I almost always have a neutral expression and my voice always comes out louder or quieter than I intend (and usually monotone)... when I'm in my natural state of being. If I have to speak in front of others, you can bet I feel like I'm putting on the show of a lifetime.

    I am masking.

Masking

    What is masking? 

    Masking is a survival strategy. Masking can be thought of as sort of copying what others do in order to make yourself appear more "normal" (whatever that means). It is figuratively putting on a mask to appear like anyone but yourself. Neurodivergent people--people who have brains that deviate from the majority--often learn this tactic through life experiences such as childhood bullying and abuse. Masking is most often seen in people who have neurodivergencies such as ADHD and Autism.

    But I was never bullied or abused in childhood, so what gives? Let's analogize. Imagine you walk into a new class on the first day of school. Everyone is standing around, talking. It seems like some people know each other. You find an empty seat and sit down, looking around for a potential friend. The teacher walks in and immediately everyone goes quiet. You get a strange feeling. Everyone is saluting the teacher. Something deep in you feels compelled to do the same, so you stand up and salute. It seems like salutation time is over because right as you stand up, everyone else sits down.

    The classroom setting is analogous to life. To me, it seems like everyone instinctively knows how to do this whole 'life' thing. Everyone knows how to interact with each other, how to address people, the hows and whens of everything. It seems as if everyone else has some secret I'm not being let-in on. For 18 years. What else am I to do but assimilate? Even if it's somewhat off. Smiling during small-talk doesn't come natural to me. Hell, small-talk doesn't even come natural to me. Everything I do in front of others is an act! I can't even exist in front of people without analyzing my every move, wondering if I'm putting on the right face or nodding at the right time. When it's appropriate to interject with an "mm-hmm" I have no idea.

    I am in the middle of one big masquerade ball, except I'm the only person wearing a mask. It's not some black, sparkly, feathery mask, either. It's a regular human face. Because underneath that mask I know I don't look human. I'm some alien creature. And I cannot let people know I'm an alien.

Damned if I Do, Damned if I Don't

    Masking is stressful, but not masking is even more anxiety-inducing. A study found that neurotypical people (people without neurodivergencies) could quickly identify that a stranger is autistic--usually within milliseconds of meeting them. They don't know they've identified the strangers as autistic; it's subconscious. They just think they're weird. In the study, a group of neurotypical people watched and listened to various videos, audio clips, and images of 60 second mock auditions from both other neurotypical people and autistics. They then rated the auditions based on factors like whether or not they would hang out with the person, sit with them, talk to them, etc. The neurotypical people in the study--those who watched the auditions--were less interested in engaging with the autistic people. They rated the autistic participants significantly lower on almost all categories. The only category they rated significantly higher in was awkwardness. 

    So, if I expend my energy masking (and it does take up a lot of energy), I end up worrying excessively about how I'm being perceived. If I don't mask, I risk being a weirdo and I end up worrying excessively about how I'm being perceived. Sigh. I have started working on deconstructing my mask: I smile less at people, I bring fidget toys to school, and I worry less and less about making eye contact. I think this has really lessened my day-to-day anxiety significantly.

    However, I often find myself putting the mask back on, so to speak. Sometimes when I'm unmasking someone strikes up a conversation. I continue being myself and I can sense the raging uncomfortability and uneasiness seeping from their pores. For some reason I can never understand, it's very off-putting to people when you don't smile back at them. Even when they say sentences that don't require a response, it unnerves them when silence is in the air. Suddenly, on the mask goes and it's "Oh was I not smiling? I was deep in thought, sorry! I'll make sure to stare into your soul while I focus entirely too much on my own presentation all the while not retaining any information you're telling me! Teehee!"

    To be honest, I don't even know what my face is doing when I'm masking. It's just not natural. More times than I can count I've closed my eyes and practiced my best human smile only to open them and see that it is... less than subpar. My face just doesn't go that way. 

    It's a long process and deep struggle to fully unmask. Many autistic people say they don't even know who they really are. Many don't figure it out until late in life. When you can feel the uneasiness of others in response to your existence, you learn to exist differently. You learn to exist like them. I try to reduce anxiety by unmasking, but oftentimes unmasking is just as anxiety-inducing. 

    I guess you win some, you lose some.