Burning The Bridge My Mask Built

At some point, I realized that I had been chasing a ghost. The mask I had constructed, refined, embodied my entire life was built on the approval of a ghost. There really wasn’t anyone there watching me, needing me to live up to some impossible standard I had set for myself. Yet, when I betrayed my mask, something felt off. Who am I if I lean into the fact I really do want sameness, routine, predictability? No one will think that’s sexy or enviable or awesome. 

To unmask is to stand stark naked in front of the world, bare skin open to the elements, no more protection, no more striving to finally fit, to finally belong. To mask has been a comfort, a way to at least try to appear to fit in with the society I’ve been surrounded by my entire life. No one stares at me in disbelief much, I wear the appropriate clothing at the appropriate times (as far as I am aware), I blink, smile and respond mostly at the right cadence. On the surface, I seem okay enough. It is only when anyone digs deeper or the relationship goes beyond a couple sentences that my Autism leaks through. But just a little bit, just a trickle, it’s controlled, I have another bag of tricks to pull from, my accomplishments, my experiences, my credentials, I’ll throw those at them if needed. 

It’s hard to explain in words what connects me to other Autistic people. It is not simply being Autistic as that is such a broad experience. It is more about having a kinship with other people who also don’t fit in, that also have to constantly go out in public and feel like an other, like someone no one else can relate to, to feel outside of everything. And this is something felt only by the Autistic person, since by looking at someone, you may not be able to tell how different and separate they feel from other people. And that makes it all the more lonely. 

So masking offerings a temporary, imperfect, but effective small bridge between the me that will never fit and the part I can play just enough to pretend like I could. It’s hard to give it up knowing that when I do, I truly do feel alone. It is like I am burning my bridge to the other side, the side that surrounds me, the side I’ve spent my entire life studying, trying to figure out, trying to belong to. Maybe, in the end, it was a bridge to nowhere.