Skill regression (Unmasking)

Unmasking. I have spent the past year realising that something in my life needed to change, and it has. I have started unmasking.

No one told me how difficult it would be. No one warned me how long it would take, how painful it would feel, or how isolating it would become. Especially when your support system does not understand what you are going through. I believed unmasking would only bring relief and freedom. That it would feel good. But unmasking is not just freeing. It can also be painful.

Growing up neurodivergent, I always felt like I had to prove something. People told me I was clever, a fast learner, mature for my age. But I never felt that way deep down. My grades never matched those compliments, so I assumed they were just being polite. Still, I kept chasing validation through achievements.

People said I was clever because I was quiet. But that quietness came from selective mutism. It allowed others to project their own ideas onto me. Ideas that never reflected who I truly was. That disconnect caused confusion and pain, and now I am left to sort through it.

Unmasking has meant learning to speak more and express myself more. But when I started speaking, I noticed how much I struggle. I stammer, I lose my train of thought, I make mistakes. Society often sees this as a personal failing, something that can be fixed with practice or reading more. But that is not the real issue.

The cost of my so called bad speech is me being true to myself. And I am okay with that.

No one talks enough about skill regression. So many neurodivergent children are praised early on for being gifted or advanced. Then as they begin to unmask, they lose those so called skills. But it makes sense. When we mask, we are performing. We mimic how others speak, behave, work and even think. We are not learning. We are surviving.

In school, I was not absorbing knowledge. I was simply copying what everyone else did. Staying quiet. Keeping my head down. Pretending to be busy. People assumed I was smart because I was not disruptive. But inside, my thoughts were loud. Intrusive. Chaotic. I was not quiet because I was focused. I was quiet because I was in a constant mental battle. Trying to manage intrusive thoughts. Getting lost in maladaptive daydreams. Living in survival mode.

And on top of all that, I had to figure out how to survive socially. People did not like that I was not an open book. It made them feel uneasy when they could not read me. So I masked harder. I forced smiles. I tried to dress like everyone else. I tried to speak louder, and clearer.

Now I am paying the price. My communication skills have regressed. I stutter more. I need extra time to write. I need more space to express myself. But I am learning to be patient with myself.

I would rather make spelling mistakes than feel ashamed of who I am.

Unmasking has come with social consequences. But to me, that is worth it. Because now I get to live authentically.

I write for myself, to return and remember.

I write for others, so no one feels lost.

Simplicity is my way of building bridges,

not barriers :)

Me at the peak of my selective mutism :)