Masking in the Workplace: What It Costs Me as an Autistic Leader with ADHD
Masking helps me survive the corporate world—but it also pushes me closer to burnout. Here’s what I’ve learned about when to mask, when to unmask, and how to recover.
Masking in the workplace isn’t a choice—it’s survival.
Hi, I’m Brett, the AuDHD Boss. I’m an autistic leader with ADHD, and I’ve spent over a decade working in a leadership position in corporate workplace. And for most of that time, I’ve masked—hard.
If you’re not familiar with the term, masking refers to the strategies neurodivergent people use to “blend in” with neurotypical expectations. Here is how Dr. Megan Anna Neff describes it (from their website):
“Autism masking is an adaptive phenomenon where people develop intricate strategies to navigate an allistic society, blending in seamlessly like chameleons in their surroundings. High-masking Autistic people possess an exceptional ability to observe and analyze social cues, meticulously studying how people move, talk, and interact. It’s as if we have taken on the role of social detectives, mastering the art of fitting in.”
This perfectly explains my masking experience, which was happening unconsciously. For me it was mimicking social norms, hiding stimming behaviors, forcing eye contact, or downplaying emotional responses. At work, it has been editing myself constantly—what I say, how I say it, and even how I show up in meetings. I might appear quiet and reserved or even overly polite.
And while it might look like professionalism from the outside, the reality is much more complicated—and much more draining.
How I Learned to Mask at Work
When I was in college, I started unmasking more in creative spaces—often without realizing that my openness might be seen as “too much.” I was candid, driven, and direct, but not always effective in building cohesion. As I grew into leadership roles, I started learning how to observe first—reading the room, understanding the team dynamic, and figuring out who held influence before saying too much.
While some could consider that manipulation, for me it was survival, adapting, learning the environment so I could figure out the social cues of how to fit in.
But even now, in my current leadership role, I still mask—every day.
Why I Still Mask
I mask to be an effective leader. Yes, to protect myself and to ensure my team feels safe and engaged. I’ve learned that as a leader, how I enter a room or how I speak in a meeting can either open the door for collaboration—or shut it completely. It can build community and teams or it can be a barrier to success.
For example, if I speak first in a meeting, I risk stifling creativity. If I show up visibly stressed or overwhelmed, it ripples across the team. That means I often need to closely monitor my emotional state so others feel things are good. When there is conflict, I strive to listen first, ask questions, lead with curiosity, and work with the team to find collaborative resolutions. More difficult conversations are held privately. I work to maintain a collaborative workplace where everyone feels heard and seen and has the space to grow.
The Cost of Masking
There’s a line I’ve had to learn over time—the point where masking stops being strategic and starts becoming harmful. If I don’t get enough rest or space to unmask on my own time, I can become blunt, sarcastic, emotionally drained, and completely disconnected from myself; making me ineffective at work.
That’s when I know it’s time to step back. To log off. To take time to unmask, rest, and reconnect with who I am outside the role.
Sometimes that looks like taking a day off. Sometimes it looks like silence, creativity, or just doing nothing. Over time, that has meant facing hard truths about how deeply I’ve buried parts of myself, often without even knowing it.
Unmasking Doesn’t Mean Oversharing
Unmasking doesn’t have to mean being vulnerable in every meeting or disclosing your diagnosis to every colleague. It’s about being intentional—deciding when, where, and how to share more authentic parts of myself.
I have a few trusted colleagues where I can be more myself (but always work appropriate). But I’m always aware of the context: the politics of the room, the power dynamics, the safety (or lack thereof) of being real. I still mask—but now, I do it with awareness and with a recovery plan in place.
Why I’m Sharing This
I’m not sharing this to say “everyone should do what I do.” In fact, I hope you don’t have to mask as hard as I have.
I’m sharing this because I know I’m not the only one navigating the emotional labor of masking in corporate life—especially as a neurodivergent person, and especially as a leader.
Final Thoughts
I used to tell my journalism students that once I left the newsroom, it felt like my humanity started to grow back. Now I understand what I really meant: I had masked so hard for so long, I lost parts of myself along the way.
Unmasking allows me to find my identity again.
It’s about mental health. It’s about holding onto who you are—even when the system wasn’t built for you.
If you’re a leader, a manager, or just someone who wants to build a more inclusive workplace—know that supporting unmasking starts with creating safety, flexibility, and trust.
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