Quietly Autistic at Last A podcast for the women who were always "a little different"—but never had the words for why.
Hosted by Dr. Allison Sucamele, a woman diagnosed with autism later in life, this podcast explores the quiet, often-overlooked experiences of neurodivergent women who spent years—sometimes decades—masked, misunderstood, or misdiagnosed.
Each episode is a gentle unraveling of what it means to be quietly autistic at last: the grief of being missed, the relief of being named, the power of self-recognition, and the beauty of finally feeling seen.
Whether you’re newly diagnosed, self-identifying, or just beginning to wonder… this space is for you. Tender truths, lived stories, unmasking, and self-compassion—one quiet conversation at a time.
Unmasking can be liberating—but it is not safe everywhere. In this episode, Dr. Allison Sucamele explores the difficult reality that not every workplace, family, relationship, or community has earned access to your most authentic self. She discusses the stigma and disbelief that can follow a late autism diagnosis, the damaging myth that “everyone is a little autistic,” and why selective unmasking is not dishonesty—it is self-protection, discernment, and self-advocacy.
Resources & References
Masking — National Autistic Society An accessible overview of why autistic people mask, how masking affects mental health, and what gradual unmasking may involve.
Masking: A Guide — AANE Explores masking across different environments, including its relationship to late diagnosis.
A Conceptual Analysis of Autistic Masking Explores masking as more than a collection of social behaviors and considers its connections to identity, safety, and acceptance.
An Investigation of the Female Autism Phenotype Research involving late-diagnosed autistic women and experiences of “pretending to be normal,” missed diagnosis, gender expectations, and vulnerability.
DISCLOSURE Workplace Decision-Aid Tool A structured tool designed to help autistic people weigh the potential benefits and risks of workplace disclosure.
Unmasking Autism by Devon Price Explores masked autism, identity, self-understanding, and the social conditions that make masking feel necessary.
Taking Off the Mask by Hannah Louise Belcher A practical guide to recognizing masking patterns and exploring authentic autistic identity.
A gentle reminder: you do not owe anyone disclosure, access to your diagnosis, or an unfiltered version of yourself. Selective masking can be a form of protection—not dishonesty or failure. The safest goal is not necessarily to become unmasked everywhere; it is to build more places where you do not have to hide.
If this topic brings up thoughts of suicide or immediate emotional danger, call or text 988 in the United States or visit the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. If you are outside the United States, contact your local emergency or crisis service.
SPEAKER_00
Welcome back to Quietly Autistic at Last, a podcast about late-in-life autism diagnosis, ADHD, ADHD, masking, burnout, self-advocacy, and the complicated relief of finally understanding yourself. I'm your host, Dr. Allison Sukamelli, and today I want to talk about something that is often missing from conversations about autistic unmasking. We often hear that unmasking is liberating. It often is. That unmasking is authentic. It is. That it is how we return to ourselves after years or sometimes decades of performing a version of ourselves that made other people more comfortable. And all of that can be true. But this is also true. Unmasking is not safe everywhere. I think I shared early on in one of these episodes that I was told by a school psychologist that one, I couldn't possibly be autistic, and two, to be careful who I tell about my autism diagnosis. It really was an ominous warning that felt not only shaming but stigmatizing. And this is someone in the field of psychology. And I'm not going to rehash all the details of that situation since I already did in one of the first episodes, but this is going to always be something that I will remember about my late-in-life diagnosis, and that there is disbelief to my face and talking behind my back, which of course doesn't feel good. But I also think it's pretty clear that the people who dismiss you or share their disbelief about your professional diagnosis, and I'm not talking about people who just declare on their own that they are autistic without going through all the avenues of confirmation with a licensed professional, even with my preliminary test results from the RADS R, I didn't say anything until my licensed psychologist, who I had been seeing for years, confirmed with absolute certainty that I was in fact Aud. And everyone is not a little autistic. I know we hear that damaging declaration a lot. It's dismissive and it's a clear pathway as to who should be ushered out of your life and not granted access to you any longer. Not every room has earned the most authentic version of you. Not every workplace rewards honesty. And not every family responds to difference with curiosity. And not every friendship can tolerate your boundaries. And not every person who says, you can be yourself around me understands what they are actually asking for. Sometimes people say they want the real you, but what they mean is that they want a slightly more relaxed version of the person they already find convenient. The person who doesn't uphold boundaries, the person who allows full access, but may get nothing in return. They may be comfortable with autism as an identity, but uncomfortable with autism as a need. And they may support unmasking until it looks like declining an invitation, asking for clear communication, wearing headphones, avoiding eye contact, stimming, needing recovery time, leaving an overstimulating room, or saying, I cannot do that today. So this episode is not going to tell you to rip off every mask immediately. That's why if you follow me on Instagram at Quietly Autistic at Last Podcast, a lot of my visuals depict a mask, like the logo for the pod, but my other visuals often include more than one mask, a path lined with removed masks, or a closet with different masks. It's all contextual, right? And even if there is a tried and true safe person in a particular room, that doesn't dictate that everyone in the room is safe for you to unmask in front of. And that's significant to be aware of. So today we're not going to treat unmasking like a moral test of some sort. Instead, we are going to talk about unmasking as a process of discernment, because protecting yourself is not dishonesty. Privacy is not shame. Selective disclosure is not failure. And choosing when, where, how, and with whom you unmask is not betraying your autistic identity. It is agency. And as we know, masking is sometimes called camouflaging and can include suppressing autistic traits, rehearsing conversations, monitoring facial expressions, forcing eye contact, copying other people's mannerisms, hiding sensory distress, holding back stimming, or pretending to understand expectations that were never clearly explained. It can also include something much less visible, constant calculating. How much should I speak? Did my face react correctly? Was my tone too flat? Did I talk too much? Did I miss a joke? Am I sitting normally? Do they think I am rude? Should I laugh? Should I pretend that the lights are not hurting? Should I say I am overwhelmed? Or will that make everything worse? And masking can become so practiced that we may not realize we are doing it. And for many late diagnosed autistic women, it may have been praised as maturity, politeness, independence, flexibility, professionalism, or being low maintenance. But the effort did not disappear simply because other people could not see it. Research has repeatedly associated greater masking with higher stress and poorer mental health outcomes. A recent real-time study followed 87 autistic adults for 28 days. And participants reported masking less when they were alone, more when other people were present, and particularly more around non-autistic people. Higher masking occurred alongside higher perceived stress. And that is important because it shows that masking is not simply an internal habit. It changes according to the environment. Autistic adults describe masking as dynamic, not a fixed behavior and context dependent. They tended to mask less when they felt psychologically safe, when communication styles fit, and when they trusted the relationship. They did not simply wake up one morning and decide to be authentic everywhere. Their nervous systems were evaluating the room, asking things like, is this person accepting? Will my communication be interpreted fairly? Can I ask for clarification? Will my needs be mocked? Can I disagree? Can I leave? Will honesty cost me connection, credibility, employment, opportunity, or safety? And that is not overthinking. It is risk assessment. And a more nuanced way to think about this is the autistic person may engage in different masking strategies to different degrees under different circumstances. And this is what may cause confusion to neurotypicals because a late diagnosed adult may appear socially fluent in certain environments while experiencing internal effort. And their ability of willingness to maintain that presentation may change with stress, burnout, safety, age, self-understanding, or acceptance. In other words, dynamic means masking moves and changes rather than remaining constant. And while unmasking may reduce the exhausting labor of constant self-monitoring and make room for stimming, sensory protection, direct communication, special interests, and more honest limits, to tell someone to just unmask is very incomplete and uninformed advice. Telling an autistic person to just unmask without examining the environment places the entire responsibility back onto the autistic person. And I'll be frank, that's bullshit. It says be more authentic, but it does not ask, will anyone here make authenticity safe? In my opinion, the short answer is in particular environments, even if you unmask, authenticity will not be safe because if it were, you most likely wouldn't have had to do it in the first place. And this is where minority stress research becomes important. Masking often develops in response to stigma, rejection, bullying, punishment, exclusion, or the fear of those experiences. And my brain exploded thinking about one particular environment that I am repeatedly forced into on a weekly basis that checks the box for all of those things. In other words, the developed response of masking may not have appeared because you disliked your authentic self. It may have appeared because the world repeatedly taught you that your authentic self had consequences. And I'm going to slowly repeat that because it is so important and you deserve to be validated. Masking is a developed response that may not have appeared because you disliked your authentic self. It may have appeared because the world repeatedly taught you that your authentic self had consequences. Again, there is nothing wrong with your authentic self. You were just in the wrong room, with the wrong person, or at the wrong workplace. And we don't need to list again, as we have in prior episodes, all the things we've been told and being too much this or that. The world may have even taught you negative consequences when you were happy about something. Maybe people laughed and shamed you when you became excited about something you loved. Maybe your need for predictability was called controlling. Maybe sensory pain was described as dramatic. Maybe you learned that asking questions annoyed authority figures. Often this one is more about them, not you. And maybe you learned that saying I don't understand was less safe than pretending you did. If so, the mask was not evidence that you were fake. It was evidence that you adapted. It may have protected your job, your relationships, your education, or your physical safety. It may have helped you navigate a world that expected you to understand rules no one had explained. And we can acknowledge the cost of masking without shaming the version of us who needed it. That past version of you deserves gratitude, not contempt. And the goal of unmasking is not to attack the mask. The goal is to create more places where you no longer need it. And a recent systematic review examining camouflaging and autistic burnout described a painful cycle. Masking consumes energy. And without enough time and space to recover, that depletion may contribute to burnout. During burnout, the ability to maintain the mask can weaken. And when the mask begins to slip, shame and fear may cause someone to mask even harder. And another recent study called this dual masking, concealing autistic traits while also concealing the signs of burnout. And you are not only trying to look non-autistic, you are also trying to look as though you are not struggling. And you say you are fine while your nervous system is overwhelmed. You keep producing while your executive functioning is collapsing. You smile through sensory pain. You use the last of your energy to make other people believe you still have energy. Then you go home and fall apart. You have your free time robbed by recovery just to repeat the cycle over and over again. And if you recognize yourself in that pattern, I want to say this clearly: the private collapse does not mean the public version of you was effortless. It means the effort was being paid for somewhere other people could not see. And research on autistic burnout describes profound exhaustion, increased sensory sensitivity, diminished functioning, withdrawal, and the need for sensory and social rest. And in a 2026 study comparing earlier and later diagnosed adults, participants diagnosed later in life often described burnout as especially chronic and confusing. They had spent years experiencing something they could not name. Diagnosis did not create their needs, it gave those needs context. And we sometimes speak about masking and unmasking as though there are only two options. Either you are performing or you are completely exposed. But there is an entire landscape between those two positions. You can be authentic without making yourself accessible to everyone. You can disclose a need without disclosing your entire diagnosis. You can stop forcing eye contact while still using a prepared script during a difficult meeting. You can stem at home, use a quieter form of regulation at work, and decide that neither choice makes you less authentic. And you can be direct with a trusted friend and more guarded with someone who has used your honesty against you. You can request written instructions without explaining your complete medical history. You can decide that one person gets the full story, another person gets the practical information, and someone else gets nothing beyond professional courtesy. That is not inconsistency. Different environments carry different risks. But you also have to learn discernment. I thought without a doubt, a school psychologist was 100% a safe place for me to share my late-in-life diagnosis. The initial conversation wasn't even about me. It was about a student, and he was speaking to me as if I had no idea what autism was, which kind of made me laugh because here I am, newly diagnosed with two psychology degrees, and he just assumes that I have no idea what autism is. Ugh. The good part is even if other people have this sort of lack of awareness, we can still have self-awareness and ask ourselves questions of discernment in different environments with different people. And the question is not simply, am I masking? A more useful question may be, what am I protecting? What is this costing me? And is there a safer option available? So strategy one, create a context safety map. One practical strategy is to divide the environments and relationships in your life into three categories: green, yellow, and red. A green environment is one where your needs are generally respected. You can ask questions without being humiliated. You can say no without being punished. You can use sensory supports, you can communicate directly, you can make a mistake and repair it. You do not have to prove your humanity before receiving consideration. And a yellow environment is uncertain or inconsistent. Pay attention to that word, inconsistent. That's an important word. Just because someone behaves a certain way one time doesn't mean they will repeat that behavior the next time, especially if variables like the presence of other people changes. And some people may be safe while others are not. And certain autistic traits may be accepted, but others may still be judged. You may be able to unmask partially, but you need boundaries and a plan. A red environment is one where vulnerability has repeatedly been punished, exploited, mocked, dismissed, or used to undermine you. In a red environment, masking may still serve a protective purpose. You are not required to disclose simply because someone asks. You are not required to educate a hostile person. And you are not required to make your nervous system pay for someone else's comfort. And your map may change. A green person may reveal themselves to be unsafe. A yellow relationship may earn more trust. A red environment may become less relevant when you gain the ability to leave it. The map is not a judgment of your courage, it is information. And strategy two, practice micro unmasking. You do not have to begin with a dramatic disclosure. Try one small change in a relatively safe environment. You might allow yourself to look away while listening. Ask someone to put instructions in writing. Wear earplugs in a noisy store. And hey, some stores are beginning to acknowledge sensory accommodations. In the US, Sephora recently rolled out Quiet Hours across its stores, which was developed in consultation with the neurodiversity community. And although anyone can shop during the quiet hours, Sephora turns the music down, strong scents are minimized, and employees generally allow customers to browse without approaching them unless assistance is required. And all of this matters so much to autistic people because think about everything your nervous system may be processing simultaneously in a typical Sephora store. Honestly, I haven't been in years for these reasons and often order online, but this idea is hard for a lot of non-autistic people to understand because their nervous systems automatically filter a lot of the noise into the background. And an autistic nervous system may not filter it nearly as effectively. So each stimulus is not necessarily problematic by itself, it's the cumulative sensory load. And quiet hours intend to reduce the number and intensity of inputs the brain has to process. Again, strategy two is micro-unmasking, which allows you to collect evidence. It gives other people an opportunity to demonstrate whether they are safe before you offer greater vulnerability. And trust should be built with data, not granted because someone claims to be understanding. And strategy three: separate privacy from shame. There is an important difference between hiding because you believe you are defective and choosing privacy because information must be handled responsibly. You may be proud to be autistic and still decide not to disclose your diagnosis at work. You may tell a supervisor about a functional need without discussing your private history. You might say, I work most effectively when expectations and deadlines are provided in writing. Or I need advanced notice when possible so I can plan the transition. And I can participate more effectively in a quieter location. And I need a short break after extended meetings before moving into my next task. And direct communication helps me respond accurately. These statements identify what supports your functioning. They do not require you to tell everyone why. Even close friends at work will forget what you need from time to time. And this just happened to me recently where someone forgot about my shared accommodations. And honestly, it was a little hurtful that they forgot. And if I'm being completely transparent, I know that their request was clearly a violation of my accommodations that I know she is aware of. And I know that her request was more about her insecurities of participating in this thing we had to do. And I know I'm being intentionally vague, but her fear of being bullied in the environment that we would have been in. So maybe this is going to sound mean or whatever, but I'm exhausted being put in positions where I'm protecting this person, expending my energy and paying the toll in my free time when the same is never done for me. Or this person allows the red environment to get away with everything that it does. And unfortunately, I've come to an age in understanding where I'm not willing to sacrifice myself or well-being to protect other people who do not do the same thing for me and allow toxic behaviors to slide. And I'm done with that chapter of my workplace life. And if you are considering formal workplace accommodations, you may want support from a qualified clinician, union representative, disability advocate, or appropriate workplace office. The important point is that disclosure deserves thought. Once private information is shared, it cannot always be taken back. And you are allowed to decide what is necessary, what is helpful, and what remains yours. Having a licensed psychologist in your corner, supporting your clinical diagnosis with professional evidence, not TikTok evidence, as so many people try to do, is beyond valuable and should be taken seriously by your workplace, the professional diagnosis that is. And I can't emphasize enough the importance of speaking with a licensed professional. And kind reminder that Quietly Autistic at Last Podcast is intended for education, validation, and reflection, not medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. So please consult a qualified professional for support tailored to your needs. And in the United States, if you are in crisis, you can call or text 988 to reach the suicide and crisis lifeline. Okay, on to strategy four. Protect regulation before performance. If fully unmasking does not feel safe, identify the regulation strategies you can protect anyway. Could you reduce sensory load before a demanding event? Could you sit near an exit? Could you use softer lighting? Could you wear filtered earplugs? Could you arrive early so the transition is less abrupt? Could you schedule recovery time after a meeting? Could you keep familiar food, water, medication, or sensory items nearby? Could you request a written agenda? Could you turn off your camera during portions of a virtual meeting if permitted? Research on workplace accommodation suggests that individualized sensory and environmental adjustments, organizational flexibility, clear support, and respectful supervisory relationships can improve job satisfaction, productivity, and stability. And the research does not identify one perfect accommodation package because autistic people are not interchangeable and every autistic experience is unique and valid. And the best support is the support that matches the person. Protecting your nervous system is not a lesser form of unmasking. Sometimes reducing the internal cost is the most realistic first step. And strategy five, use communication bridges. The double empathy framework reminds us that communication difficulties between autistic and non-autistic people are often mutual. They can arise from differences in expectations, timing, language, and interpretation. And research has found that autistic people can communicate information effectively with other autistic people. In some studies, communication and rapport decline more in mixed neurotype interactions than in same neurotype interactions. And that does not mean every autistic person will understand you or every non-autistic person will misunderstand you. It means that a communication mismatch is not automatically evidence that you are socially deficient. Instead of trying to become an expert performer, try building a bridge. You might say something like, I tend to communicate directly. Or if I am quiet, I am usually processing rather than disengaging. I understand information better when it is explicit. I may need a moment before answering. And if plans change, please tell me as soon as possible. And I listen better when I am not forcing eye contact. And I want to make sure I understand. Can you tell me specifically what outcome you need? And a bridge asks both people to participate. You are making your communication style visible, but you are not agreeing to carry the entire interaction alone. And strategy six, calculate the masking tax. After demanding interaction, ask yourself, how much recovery did this cost? Did I need 10 minutes alone, an entire evening, or the whole weekend? Did I lose access to speech, decision making, cooking, hygiene, creativity, or social connection afterward? Did I appear successful in the moment but lose functioning later? And this is the masking tax. And other people may evaluate the interaction by what they saw during it. You need to evaluate it by the total cost. If an hour-long meeting requires six hours of recovery, the meeting did not cost only one hour. If a social obligation removes your ability to prepare food or complete essential tasks, that belongs in the calculation. And keeping a simple energy log can help identify patterns. What happened, who was present, what sensory conditions existed, how much did I mask? How much recovery did I need? What would have reduced the cost? And this is not about monitoring yourself more obsessively. It is about making invisible labor visible to you. And strategy seven, build an unmasking circle. You do not need universal acceptance, but you do deserve at least a few places where you are not constantly editing yourself. Your unmasking circle might include a partner, friend, therapist, sibling, autistic community, online group, or colleague who has demonstrated trustworthiness. The people in this circle do not have to understand every autistic experience automatically. They do need to be willing to listen, believe you, repair misunderstandings, and respect your needs without turning them into a debate. And research suggests autistic adults often report less masking and lower stress when they feel safe, accepted, and well matched in communication style. And that sense of fit can happen with autistic or non-autistic people. Shared neurotype may help, but shared values, humility, and mutual effort also matter. And a safe person is not someone who never makes a mistake. A safe person is someone who does not punish you for having needs and who is willing to learn when a mistake occurs. And what if the mask slips before you are ready? Sometimes unmasking is chosen. Sometimes it happens because exhaustion removes our ability to keep performing. You may become quieter, more direct, less expressive, more sensitive to sound, less able to tolerate interruptions. You may stim more visibly or need more time to speak. You may no longer be able to maintain the version of yourself that other people expect. And if that happens, try not to interpret the loss of performance as a loss of worth. It may be information from a nervous system that has exceeded its capacity. You can ask yourself, what demands can be reduced? What can be postponed? Where can I create sensory safety? Who needs a simple explanation? Who does not need an explanation at all? What essential functioning needs protection first? Burnout is not the time to prove how much you can still do. It is the time to stop spending energy on appearances wherever it is safe to do so. You are allowed to choose. You are allowed to unmask slowly. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to try authenticity in one setting and decide that the response was not safe enough to continue. You are allowed to remain private. You are allowed to use scripts. You are allowed to prepare. You are allowed to regulate visibility. You are allowed to regulate privately. You are allowed to decide that a person has not earned your vulnerability. And you are allowed to seek environments where your needs are not treated as inconveniences. The purpose of unmasking is not to make you more exposed. It is to help you become more connected to yourself. And sometimes that connection looks like joyful authenticity. Sometimes it looks like an accommodation. Sometimes it looks like leaving. Sometimes it looks like silence. Sometimes it looks like saying, This part of me is not available for your evaluation. And there is no single correct way to be authentically autistic. And before we close, I want to leave you with this. The mask may have protected you. You do not have to hate it. You do not have to rip it away in every room. You can thank it for helping you survive while slowly building a life in which survival is no longer the only goal. Unmask where there is care. Experiment where there is uncertainty. Protect yourself where there is danger. And remember that authenticity without safety can become another demand placed on an already exhausted nervous system. You are not failing at unmasking when you make a strategic choice. You are practicing discernment. You are listening to your body. You are recognizing that access to the real you is not something everyone is automatically entitled to receive. And the diagnosis was not a box, it was a mirror. And now that you can see yourself more clearly, you get to decide who is safe enough to see you too. Okay, so there you have it. Thank you for joining me today on Quietly Autistic at Last. And if this episode resonated with you, consider sharing it with someone who needs permission to approach unmasking gently, strategically, and without shame. Until next time, this is Dr. Allison Sukamelli. And remember, late does not mean broken, different does not mean less, and protecting yourself does not make you any less authentic. Take care, and I will see you next week.
Podcasts we love
Check out these other fine podcasts recommended by us, not an algorithm.
