For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with who I am. I used to think that if I copied the people around me, maybe I’d finally fit in… but all that really did was make me lose sight of myself.

It wasn’t until my ADHD diagnosis in 2024 that I began to understand why I’d been masking for so long, and how that constant effort to belong had shaped my entire identity.

Early signs – the quiet kid who never quite fit

My story didn’t start at university; it began long before that, in classrooms where everything felt harder than it should have.

I was the quiet one. The “well-behaved” one. The girl who didn’t cause trouble but always seemed to fall behind. I remember trying so hard to keep up, but it was like my brain was tuned to a different frequency. Everyone else seemed to get it – the lessons, the pace, the way things were supposed to work  and I just… didn’t.

My mum noticed before anyone else. She took me for hearing tests, eye tests, everything she could think of. Every time the results came back “normal,” teachers were just as confused as us.

That’s when I started copying. I’d watch how other kids held their pens, how they spoke, even how they reacted in groups, and I’d mirror it. It wasn’t about being fake, it was about survival. I didn’t want to stand out for the wrong reasons. I wanted to belong.

Without realising it, that’s where my masking began.

Learning to hide

By the time I reached my teenage years, masking was second nature. I learned how to say what people wanted to hear, how to blend in, how to pretend I was fine even when I was falling apart inside.

At school, that meant laughing when others laughed, pretending to understand lessons I didn’t, and never asking for help because that would draw attention. I became good at hiding my confusion, a skill that followed me into adulthood.

University – where everything unravelled

When I went to university, I wanted it to be my fresh start. I wanted to show everyone that I was intelligent and capable. After all the years of feeling “less than,” I finally had a chance to prove myself.

But then COVID hit. Everything went online. No structure, no face-to-face support, no sense of belonging. I was suddenly back in that familiar place – lost, disconnected, and struggling in silence.

I kept my camera off, telling myself it was easier that way. Easier to hide than to risk being seen. I convinced myself that invisibility was safety, but deep down, it just made me feel lonelier.

Eventually, it all caught up with me. My attendance slipped, my grades dropped, and before I knew it, I was kicked out. I remember sitting there, staring at the email, feeling like my entire world had crumbled. I wasn’t relieved; I was devastated.

At the time, it felt like failure. But looking back, I realise I wasn’t failing… I was surviving in a system that didn’t understand me.

The crash and the turning point

My breaking point came shortly after leaving uni. I met someone who had inattentive ADHD, and for the first time in my life, I felt seen. Everything they described – the forgetfulness, the zoning out, the constant noise in your head, it all clicked. It was me.

After waiting six years on the NHS list, I finally booked a private ADHD assessment. It was validating in a way I can’t explain. I remember crying, but not out of sadness, out of relief. For the first time, I had an answer.

My mum was my rock throughout it all. When people used to joke that I lived in “Jade’s world,” she’d always smile and say, “It must be a lovely world.” That tiny sentence changed everything. She saw something beautiful in me that others didn’t, and she never gave up on me.

Finding myself again

Getting my diagnosis felt like unlocking a door I didn’t even know existed. It didn’t magically fix everything, but it helped me start rebuilding.

Medication gave me clarity, but understanding gave me peace. I realised I wasn’t lazy or incapable, my brain just worked differently. I started seeing my creativity, visual thinking, and empathy not as weaknesses, but as strengths.

For so long, I had believed that being “different” made me broken. Now, I know it makes me me.

I still catch myself masking sometimes going quiet when I feel out of place, shrinking myself to fit into spaces that don’t really fit me. But now I recognise it. I pause, breathe, and remind myself that I don’t need to perform anymore. I’m allowed to take up space as I am.

Acceptance

I used to think I was broken, but I’m not, I just needed to understand myself.

Unmasking is messy and uncomfortable. It means letting go of years of pretending and learning to show up authentically, even when it feels scary. But it’s also freeing.

For the first time, I feel like I’m living as me & not as a version of myself created to make others comfortable.

If you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt lost, misunderstood, or like you’re wearing a mask just to get through the day, please know this: you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re just finding your way back to yourself, one unmasked moment at a time.

Reflection

What would it look like to stop hiding the parts of you that make you different?
This week, notice when you start to mask and give yourself permission to be seen, even just a little. 

This is me – Jade.
The girl who once felt invisible, unsure, and out of place… is now standing proud, unmasked, and finally at peace with who she is.
If you’re still finding your way, know this: you’ll get there too. 💚

Have you ever experienced masking or struggled with identity?
I’d love to hear your story, share your reflections with us!