One of the things I wish more people understood about ADHD is that sometimes the hardest part isn’t the ADHD itself.
It’s pretending you don’t have it.
Let’s talk about masking. Masking is a very human behaviour. In fact, every single one of us does it to some degree. Whether consciously or unconsciously, we adjust our behaviour depending on the situation we’re in.
You might bite your tongue during an argument because it’s not the right time to say what you’re thinking.You might avoid discussing politics at Christmas dinner because you’d quite like everyone to leave with the same number of family members they arrived with. You might stop whistling around someone because you know it drives them absolutely mad. That’s social adaptation. Humans are remarkably good at it. But for many people with ADHD, masking becomes something much bigger.
It becomes survival.
What does masking look like in ADHD?
Masking is the suppression or compensation of natural ADHD traits to appear more socially acceptable or “normal.”
Research increasingly suggests that masking is common across neurodivergent populations, including ADHD and autism, although much of the research has historically focused on autism. Many adults with ADHD describe consciously or unconsciously hiding symptoms to avoid criticism, rejection, or negative judgment. In simple terms, it’s performing a version of yourself that feels easier for other people to accept.
For someone with hyperactive traits, masking might look like forcing themselves to sit perfectly still despite every cell in their body wanting to move. Not tapping their foot. Not fidgeting. Not pacing. Not playing with their sleeves or picking at their nails. Not because movement isn’t helpful. But because somewhere along the way they learned:
“People find this distracting.” or “Stop being so annoying.” or “Why can’t you just sit still.” or “You’ve got too much energy, just stop.”
So they do. And it takes an enormous amount of energy.
Social masking can be even harder
Some people don’t just suppress movement. They script conversations before they happen. They rehearse what they’re going to say. They prepare answers for questions that nobody has even asked yet. They study other people’s body language and mirror it because they’re trying to work out the unwritten social rules everyone else seems to have received. They force eye contact when it feels uncomfortable. They remind themselves to smile. They monitor their facial expressions. They carefully regulate their tone of voice. Meanwhile, internally, their brains resemble complete chaos.
Imagine calmly sitting in an office meeting while, inside your mind, the SpongeBob meme of the office on fire is playing on repeat.
That’s masking.
The hidden form of masking: overcompensation
One aspect of masking that isn’t discussed enough is overcompensation. Suppose you have an important meeting at 2:00 pm. Many people imagine someone with ADHD forgetting about it entirely. Sometimes that happens. But sometimes the opposite happens. You become so afraid of forgetting that your entire day revolves around not missing the meeting.
You can’t start another task because what if you lose track of time?You can’t relax because what if you forget? You check the clock every seven minutes. By the time 2:00 pm arrives, you’ve mentally attended the meeting approximately forty-three times already. From the outside, people see someone who is organised, timely, functioning, and capable.
Inside, you’ve spent six hours using all of your available mental energy simply trying not to fail.
Why do we mask?
In my opinion, and supported by what many neurodivergent people describe, masking often develops because the alternative feels unsafe. Nobody wakes up one morning and decides they’d like to spend their life exhausting themselves. Masking is usually learned. It’s shaped by years of comments like:
“You’re lazy.” or “You’re difficult.” or “You’re too loud.” or “You’re too sensitive.” or “Why can’t you just try harder?”
Eventually, the message becomes internalised. If I want to belong, I have to hide.
Humans are social creatures. Psychology has consistently demonstrated that belonging and social acceptance are fundamental human needs. Whether we’re neurotypical or neurodivergent, our brains are wired to seek connection.
We often tell ourselves, “I don’t care what other people think.” And to some extent, that’s healthy. But there is also a very old, very primitive part of our brain that whispers, “If the group rejects you, you’re not safe.”Thousands of years ago, exclusion from the group could genuinely threaten survival.
Our nervous systems haven’t entirely caught up with modern society. Your brain doesn’t always distinguish between being left out of a group chat and being abandoned by your tribe. It simply knows rejection feels dangerous.
Why do so many people get diagnosed later in life?
Ironically, masking often hides the very thing people are struggling with.
People say, “But you’re doing so well.” abd “You seem organised.” or ” But you’ve got a good job.” or “You always seem to cope so easily.”
What they don’t see is the enormous effort behind that coping. Many adults receive an ADHD diagnosis only after a significant life transition. Perhaps their child is diagnosed and they begin recognising themselves. Perhaps another family member receives an assessment. Or perhaps they’ve spent years holding everything together until one day they simply can’t anymore. What often looks like “coming out of nowhere” is actually burnout.
You can only perform for so long before the curtain eventually falls.
The cost of pretending
Masking is exhausting. Full Stop.
Research suggests that chronic masking can contribute to stress, anxiety, burnout, lower self-esteem, and emotional exhaustion. And honestly, that makes perfect sense.
If every interaction requires monitoring yourself, editing yourself, correcting yourself, and second guessing yourself, when do you actually get to simply exist? Many neurodivergent people describe rest in an interesting way.
Rest isn’t necessarily sleeping. Rest is not being perceived. It’s being alone with people who don’t require performance. It’s existing without constantly wondering whether you’re talking too much, moving too much, forgetting too much, or simply being too much. Sometimes the most restful room isn’t the quietest one. It’s simply the one where you feel safe enough to have to wear the mask.
Therapy isn’t about creating a better mask
As a therapist, I don’t believe the goal is teaching someone to camouflage more effectively.
In my opinion, the work is almost the opposite.It’s gently unpacking the shame that made the mask necessary in the first place. It’s asking,
“Who told you that this part of you wasn’t acceptable?”
It’s exploring the beliefs we’ve developed about ourselves.
“If I make a mistake, people won’t love me.”
“If I’m authentic, people will reject me.”
“If I stop performing, I’ll stop belonging.”
Those beliefs deserve compassion, because they usually developed for a reason. But they also deserve questioning.
Building a life that works with your brain
Practical strategies matter too. Using alarms. Keeping visual planners. Leaving reminders where you can actually see them. Using fidget tools. Taking movement breaks. Breaking tasks into bite-sized pieces. None of these are signs that you don’t care or are incapable. They are signs that you understand how your brain works and can meet your own needs. The goal isn’t to become someone else. The goal is to build systems that support the person you already are. And perhaps most importantly, to stop apologising or feeling bad for needing them.
Humans have needs, that’s right, even you.
A final thought
I sometimes think people with ADHD become extraordinary performers. We learn how to appear calm while our minds race. How to smile while we’re overwhelmed. How to appear organised while running entirely on sticky notes, phone alarms, and pure adrenaline. But no performer can stay on stage forever. Eventually, everyone needs to step behind the curtain.
So here’s something I hope you give yourself permission to do.
Notice how hard you’re working. Really notice it. Because the world often only sees the finished performance, not the effort that went into it. Allow yourself moments where you don’t have to edit yourself. Moments where you don’t have to earn belonging. Moments where you can simply be.
In my experience, healing isn’t about throwing the mask away overnight.
It’s about finding enough safety, enough self-compassion, and enough acceptance that you slowly realise you don’t need to wear it quite so tightly anymore. And one day, perhaps without even noticing, you’ll spend a little more of your life being yourself than performing someone else.