May 21, 2025
Some of us didn’t even realise we were masking until years after we’d started doing it.
We thought we were just being polite. Or being professional. Or just doing what everyone else was doing. But really, we were working overtime to make other people comfortable with us. And hiding parts of ourselves in the process.
Many of us learned early that being ourselves could make other people uncomfortable or get us in trouble.
One of our Alyv Support Workers put it simply:
“I used to think if I acted like myself people wouldn’t like me. So I gave them a version of me that felt easier for them.”
Another shared:
“I wasn’t trying to deceive anyone. I was just trying to survive.”
We masked in school so we didn’t get picked on.
We masked in our families to avoid judgement.
We masked at work so we wouldn’t lose our jobs.
We masked in friendships because we didn’t want to seem too much.
We masked in public just to get through the day without stares or questions.
Sometimes we didn’t even know that’s what we were doing. We just thought we were bad at being normal.
Alyv team members often talk about how easy it is to look fine on the outside while burning out quietly inside.
One support worker shared:
“People say I’m high functioning but they don’t see me the second I get home. That version of me was a mask.”
Another said:
“I used to go out of my way to avoid looking different. But I never felt like me when I did that.”
And this hit home for a lot of us:
“I could be anyone people needed me to be. But at the end of the day, I didn’t know who I was when I got home.”
Many of us have been masking for so long that we lost track of what was real. We stopped trusting our own reactions. We stopped believing our preferences mattered. We learned how to copy what worked for other people, even if it made us deeply uncomfortable.
We also talk a lot about why we don’t use functional labels like high functioning or low functioning. Function can change depending on the day, the environment, and how much someone is masking. Just because someone can do something doesn’t mean they should have to. We support people where they are, not where they appear to be in any given moment.
Some of the most vivid stories our team shared were about childhood. One team member told us:
“I learned in primary school that if I asked too many questions people would roll their eyes. So I just stopped asking.”
Another said:
“I watched what other kids did and copied it. That was my way of fitting in. It worked. But I was exhausted.”
And another shared:
“I was so focused on how much eye contact was too much that I had no idea what the person was even saying.”
We didn’t have words for it at the time. But looking back, the signs were all there.
We were the kids who were labelled shy or too chatty. Bossy or passive. Dramatic or withdrawn. We were praised when we masked well. We were corrected when we didn’t.
A lot of us developed specific work masks to help us get through the day. Some were subtle. Some were full-blown performances. And for many of us, they worked — but at a cost.
Our founder, Sarah, shared this from her time in a contact centre:
“I had a mask that could do 300 calls a day in a contact centre. But outside work I couldn’t even answer the phone.”
She also described what masking looked like in real estate:
“I had a corporate mask. High heels, friendly voice, knew all the scripts. But I still never felt like I belonged.”
One of our support workers shared a similar experience:
“I was working in hospitality and I could be bubbly and upbeat for hours. But on my break, I’d sit in the toilets and cry from how much I was holding in.”
We’ve worked in offices, retail, education, healthcare, hospitality, real estate. We’ve had a mask for every industry. Sometimes multiple masks for the same job. One for our colleagues. One for clients. One for management.
But the longer we wore them, the harder it became to keep them in place.
We didn’t set out to build a neurodivergent team on purpose. But we did make space.
We made adjustments in our recruitment process without making it a big deal. We let people tell us what they needed. We removed barriers where we could. And when someone said, this part is hard for me, we didn’t question it or make them feel like a burden. We just changed it.
Because that’s how you treat people.
We didn’t ask anyone to prove their worth first. We didn’t wait until someone struggled to step in. We assumed people would do best when they felt safe, understood, and able to be themselves.
And we didn’t frame neurodivergence as a bonus or a problem. We just welcomed humans as they are.
So yes, we ended up with an incredible team of neurodivergent people and their allies. People who stim, unmask, rest, ask for space, info dump, and bring their full selves to the table. People who have spent their whole lives trying to be enough, and finally found a place they don’t have to try so hard.
Here’s what a few of them have shared:
“I didn’t know how much of me I was holding in until I didn’t have to anymore.”
“This was the first place I ever worked where I could say I needed time alone and no one questioned it.”
“I stopped apologising for how my brain works because I finally felt like I didn’t need to.”
Because we didn’t feel safe not to.
Because being ourselves often came with consequences.
Because the world didn’t understand us.
Because we thought we had to.
We’re learning how to take off the mask. Slowly. In the places that feel right.
We’re learning how to stim without apology.
To set boundaries without guilt.
To rest without shame.
To exist without shrinking.
And every time someone else in our community tells us,
“I thought it was just me”
we know that sharing these stories matters.
Because it was never just you.
