"I like to be surprised by what I say… it makes me work harder to find out what I mean." This quote from Robin Ince’s Bibliomaniac resonates deeply with me. Ince, a brilliant comedian, broadcaster, and author, also happens to be an ADHDer. Recently, I heard him on an episode of the history podcast “You’re Dead to Me,” and it got me reflecting on the concept of ADHD masking.
As I listened to the podcast, I was struck by the interaction between Robin and the host. The host would ask a question, and Robin’s responses were filled with insightful comments. His pace of speech was rapid, and each thought seemed to create new connections in his mind, following a flow that some might label as a tangent.
A tangent is often seen as a digression from a main topic, with negative connotations suggesting that the “right way” of communicating is concise and “to the point.” While I value directness, sometimes concise speech makes me miss important information. For me, the more context, the better. I find tangential speech easy to follow. I can see the links and enjoy the discoveries I make along the way. It isn’t a linear A-to-B journey, with point A having the sole purpose of getting to point B. It’s a sightseeing journey, stopping and starting, taking detours to admire what we’ve noticed along the way.
Experienced broadcasters can always bring a person back to a point with a prompt or a question. In this instance, the host didn’t need to do this; the conversation was flowing and interesting—the number one goal of a podcast. It wasn’t the tangents that struck me. They are what people go to see Robin for. Usually, when I hear Robin speak, it’s at his own shows. This was someone else’s show, and what struck me was that a few times during the podcast, Robin would stop dead in his tracks and apologise.
Speaking of tangents…
Let me tell you a little story from a few months ago (I promise it is related) In January this year, I could tell I was heading towards burnout. I had been working long hours, and the work had been emotionally and intellectually intense. I have a few jobs and roles, and it was hard keeping on top of everything. I have always kept two days of NHS work because: one, it’s the only consistent teamwork I get, so it isn’t lonely; I have people to bounce ideas off. And two, it has always been very contained—I can switch off from it outside of working hours. That stopped happening.
In the first week of January, I took a holiday. I said I wasn’t going to make a rash or impulsive decision, but if things didn’t improve in three months, then I would resign. We got back from the holiday, I returned to work, and a couple of weeks later, Tony went away for a week, leaving me and the cat without a responsible adult for supervision. One working day later, I wrote a resignation letter. I popped an online meeting in with the manager for the next working day we were both in, for the afternoon.
The morning of the meeting, I had a great working day—great teamwork, great and contained assessments. I went to the meeting with the manager, and instead of handing in my notice, I told them I felt I needed a break from the NHS to prevent burnout. We discussed options and, over the next week, agreed on a short three-month career break. I got an email from my manager: "Can you pop everything you want that we discussed into a letter and email it to me so HR can do their thing?" Yep, no problem, I will get that over.
The next day, I emailed over the summary of what we agreed. A meeting appeared in my diary for that afternoon. I assumed it was to talk through the detail. I showed up at the meeting. The manager started: “So, I just want to say that was the most beautiful letter.”
Beautiful? What? It was very matter-of-fact corporate stuff.
“Err,” brain processing.
She continued, “Having read it, I can absolutely see why you need to leave.”
“Whhhhhaaaa, wait, err,” .. my laughter starts.
She continues; I don’t hear her. I am probably talking over her, but I have no memory of that. What I do remember is jumbled bunch of words along the lines of “Err, what do you think the letter said? Err, what letter? Err, can you read out the first sentence of the letter you think I sent you?”
And you’ve guessed it. I sent the wrong letter. I sent the resignation one. Past Sarah would have been quiet, wouldn’t have been able to process in the moment what was happening, and by the time I had processed, I would have just gone along with it. I would have been the first person ever to respond to the “reason for leaving your last job” on an application form as “admin error.”
But I’m not past Sarah. I am all-new improved January 2024 Sarah. This Sarah laughed and laughed, and then cracked a joke, admitting I had sent the wrong letter and asking if the one I sent was legally binding. Using humour to defuse the situation: “Is this a no-backsies situation? Hey, you can take credit for your excellent management skills in that you listened to my needs and convinced me to stay—brilliant leadership, boss.”
So, it all turned out fine.
But did it? Do chameleons know that they are changing colour to fit in with their surroundings? Do they know that as they meander across a branch, they feel so unsafe that they are blending in?
Most people alter their behaviour for short periods to fit into different settings, e.g., you might not behave the same way in a meeting with 20 acquaintances as you would when you are sitting with one trusted person in your living room.
So, why does this matter? In autism, there are blogs, social media posts, academic papers, and numerous books on “masking.”
Masking is the act of hiding parts of yourself to fit in with societal norms and expectations. It’s often a trauma response, a subconscious strategy for safety. It can involve trying to suppress parts of yourself or exaggerate other parts that you feel are deemed more acceptable. Sadly, Sarah Cassidy’s research has shown a strong link between masking and suicidality in autistic adults. Masking, a natural human way to create safety, actually indicates we aren’t safe. The less safe we are, the less we can show ourselves, and the less we can show ourselves, the less we can accept ourselves, creating what Sarah Cassidy powerfully calls a “thwarted sense of belonging.”
More and more autistic advocates, academics, and social media folks are sharing this knowledge and ways of creating safety to find places where you can drop the mask. I am not seeing the same for ADHD and masking.
A quick Google Scholar search for “autism masking” creates 43,300 results. All the results on the first page focus on the experience of masking for autistic people.
Try the same for ADHD and masking, and we get just over half the results—26,800—and most of these are in reference to a different concept (auditory contralateral masking, which is related to sensory processing). The articles focus on what’s wrong with a person and how it causes impulsiveness. And the relevant articles looking at ADHD masking, they aren’t as good in quality, often unpublished or with tiny amounts of data. There's also no consideration of the likely co occurance of autism and ADHd.
This year, Putten et al. in “Is camouflaging unique for autism? A comparison of camouflaging between adults with autism and ADHD” published a comparison between autism and ADHD masking. They found that the form of masking ADHDers appeared to utilise involved “assimilation” (the process of absorbing and integrating people, ideas, or culture into a wider society or culture), but they were less likely than autistic people to utilise compensation strategies such as copying or studying other people’s behaviour in either life or from TV.
Leong and Grachen also published this year and talked about ADHD masking resulting in “racketeering” (a word with significant connotations as it's generally defined as "engaging in dishonest and fraudulent business dealings") and scripting for situations.
Ginapp et al. (2023) studied 43 self-selected participants aged 18-35 who mask during social interactions, having experienced stigma and social prejudice related to their ADHD. They found that many ADHDers mask to avoid negative feedback.
So, the two examples I gave earlier, of listening to a radio show and my meeting with my boss, are reflective of the masking we do. If a kid says something unexpected, the results can be that other people respond in neutral, positive, or negative ways. Negative ways might be anything from punishment, being shouted at, being told you are wrong, or having the thing misinterpreted: “Don’t mess around.” It’s laughed at or ignored.
If we think about laughter, humans laugh at the unexpected. If a kid misses some information or makes an interesting/unusual statement, the response may be laughter. Laughter can be a much safer or more pleasant response than the other outcomes. So even if initially the kid doesn’t know why people are laughing at the things they say, they soon learn, “Oh, they are funny,” or “Oh, people enjoy laughter. I can lean into this and do more.”
Or we apologise. We think, “Oh, we’ve got something wrong. We aren’t good enough,” and the best way is to diffuse the situation. In day-to-day communication, people apologise when they’ve done something wrong or when an action has hurt someone else, such as being rude or invalidating. We learn to say sorry through feedback, which can often be negative, even as strong as punishment for behaving in a certain way. A sorry isn’t warranted when you are fulfilling the brief and just going about your day-to-day work.
Or we avoid. Best not to put ourselves in those situations.
The tiny amount of literature out there on ADHD masking says that the way ADHders get respite from needing to mask is to be in places where they can let the mask down. Ginapp’s study reported ADHders find safety in communities where they can communicate more naturally, where they can connect with people with similar communication styles or experiences. The research is suggesting that the way ADHDers respond to masking is to find people they can communicate well with, creating safety in online communities or with other neurodivergent people.
Unmasking ADHd is about understanding and accepting our true selves. It’s about recognising the strategies we use to fit into societal norms and finding spaces where we can be authentic. For those of us who expierience ADHd, it’s crucial to create environments where we feel safe to communicate naturally, free from the need to mask.
For those who do not experience ADHD, take a moment to think about what you can do differently to give signs of acceptance and appreciation. We can all:
1. Educate Ourselves: Learn about how wonderfully varied the human mind is (google "neurodivergent paradigm" for more on this) and create compassion and empathy for the challenges we face. Recognise that tangential speech or impulsive actions are not disruptions but an equally important communication style.
2. Encourage Authenticity: Create environments—whether at work, school, or home—where people feel safe to express themselves without fear of judgement.
3. Collaborate and Share Constructive Feedback: Styles won’t always match; feedback might be needed so that each person understands the other's perspective. This can be done in ways that are devoid of negativity, to ensure neither person feels attacked.
4. Promote Inclusivity: Encourage inclusive practices and policies that accommodate neurodiverse communication styles and working methods.
5. Listen and Validate: Take the time to listen and validate experiences (this can be just as hard for the ADHDer to do as it can be for someone who does not experience ADHD). Acknowledge struggles and successes, which can make a significant difference.
By taking these steps, we can all contribute to creating a more inclusive and understanding world where individuals experinceing ADHd can thrive without the need to mask.
References
1. Ince, R. (2021). Bibliomaniac: An Obsessive's Tour of the Bookshops of Britain. Atlantic Books.
2. Putten, A. A. J., de Bruin, E. I., Scheeren, A. M., Glennon, J. C., & Verheij, F. (2024). Is camouflaging unique for autism? A comparison of camouflaging between adults with autism and ADHD. Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders. doi: [10.1007/s10803-024-05877-8](https://doi.org/10.1007/s10803-024-05877-8).
3. Leong, C., & Grachen, S. (2024). ADHD masking: The dynamics of racketeering and scripting in social interactions. Journal of Neurodivergent Studies. doi: [10.1016/j.jns.2024.100232](https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jns.2024.100232).
4. Ginapp, C. M., Greenberg, N. R., MacDonald-Gagnon, G., Angarita, G. A., Bold, K. W., & Potenza, M. N. (2023). The experiences of adults with ADHD in interpersonal relationships and online communities: A qualitative study. SSM - Qualitative Research in Health, 3, 100223. doi: [10.1016/j.ssmqr.2023.100223](https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ssmqr.2023.100223).
5. Cassidy SA, Gould K, Townsend E, Pelton M, Robertson AE, Rodgers J. Is Camouflaging Autistic Traits Associated with Suicidal Thoughts and Behaviours? Expanding the Interpersonal Psychological Theory of Suicide in an Undergraduate Student Sample. J Autism Dev Disord. 2020 Oct;50(10):3638-3648. doi: 10.1007/s10803-019-04323-3. PMID: 31820344; PMCID: PMC7502035.
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