If I’m Not Performing, Who Am I?

Welcome to the latest episode of 'Women Who Are Autistic' with Annelise, a life, career, and financial coach dedicated to helping autistic women build fulfilling lives. In this episode, we dive into the concept of unmasking and exploring true identity, especially after experiencing burnout. Annelise discusses the transitional phase where the old performance-driven self fades, and the authentic self begins to emerge. Learn about the struggles and triumphs of autistic women who are navigating this space between masks and rediscovering who they are without the need to conform. Join us as we explore topics like neurodiversity, identity, and the messy magic of being human. Tune in, relax, and rethink what's possible together.

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Transcript

Audio Only - All Participants 0:00

Hello everyone and welcome to the Women Who Are Autistic. The podcast where being different isn't just accepted, it's celebrated. I am Annelise your life, career, and financial coach, and I help autistic women build lives that feel aligned, meaningful, and unapologetically authentic. Each week we'll explore neurodiversity identity, work, money, and the messy magic of being human. If you are new here or not aware, this New Year's series for 2026 is all about being in a careless era. This is episode seven of the season. If you have not listened to the others, I encourage you to do so as each episode builds on the other. So grab your favorite sensory friendly beverage and get comfy- let's dive in and rethink what's possible together. Today we're sitting with a question many high functioning autistic women know intimately and honestly. So many more of us out there know this question very well without performing, who am I? If you spend years, maybe even decades, masking to blend in to be seen as capable, reliable, quote unquote, fine, then burnout or a slowdown can feel like the rug pulled out the script. Stop running the social rehearsals, pause the constant monitoring of, am I doing this right, quiets, and it's in that quiet disorientation starts, you might sit longer in the morning without urgency to perform productively. Conversations don't demand the same scripting, and a voice inside whispers. Something's really wrong. I'm not useful, am I even here? And then you start freaking out and you ask what is happening? I'm not the same person I was before. I no longer have this need to be somebody I am not. But I also don't know how to be the true version of who I am. I'm stuck in between a rock and a hard place. Where can I possibly go from here? I wanna assure you that confusion is real and valid. When performance falls away, the masking that kept you safe, connected, praised. It can feel like you vanish. What's actually happening is you're no longer being driven by the need to camouflage on the engine, that ran on to appear neurotypical has finally died. You're not disappearing. You're not broken. You're just not performing anymore. In that space where the masking and people pleasing used to live, it feels empty because it's unfamiliar. Let's sit with that for a moment. Let's breathe into that space together. No rush to fill it. Just notice it. I wanna say this gently before we dive into the heart of this episode. I am not offering advice. I'm not telling you what you should or shouldn't do. I'm just sharing what I'm unlearning and also what I'm relearning and what's helping me right now. Please take what feels supportive, leave what doesn't, and if at any point listening feels like it's way too much, you're allowed to pause, skip, or stop, your nervous system gets to lead here. For many autistic women, high functioning wasn't a compliment. It became an identity forged in necessity. From childhood you learn the rules, you mimic the eye contact, you script the small talk, you observe other people's behaviors, and you reflect those behaviors. You suppress the stems because it makes people uncomfortable. You push through sensory overload. You anticipate others' needs before your own and you got good at it. I mean, you got really good at it. People started praising you. You're so mature, you handle everything so well. You're so together, and That praise felt like safety proof you belonged. And in that safety you knew rejection wouldn't come. But then something happened, that praise turned to pressure. The better you performed, the higher the bar. Masking became the default. You hide behind the meltdowns. You mask the shutdowns. You perform calm while your nervous system screamed. It wasn't laziness or choice. It was adaptive brilliance in a world that didn't make space for your authentic neurology. Masking let you access education, jobs, relationships, connection. It kept stigma at bay, but adaptation does have its costs. Years of manual social processing drain the battery faster than anyone sees. The identity suppression builds quietly. Needs are ignored. Limits are denied. Authentic expressions buried. Over time the mask isn't just something you wear, it's fused to who you think you have to be. And then for many of us, comes one of the deepest wounds. When you finally feel safe enough or desperate enough to share with someone you trust, maybe it's a close friend, a family member, a partner. For some, this is the first time you've ever let the masks slip around them saying the words out loud. I am autistic. And instead of understanding, you meet rejection, dismissal. It's all in your head. You're not like those people. The real you. The unmasked authentic you is looked at like someone who isn't worth knowing or worse like a stranger they don't even know. Those very people who once felt like safety become unsafe simply because you were open about who you truly are. I wanna say from the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry. I apologize deeply that anyone would make you feel like an outsider because of who you truly are. You deserved acceptance, curiosity, care, not canceling or distance. That pain is real and it isn't your fault. And when burnout hits, I mean autistic burnout. That profound exhaustion where even basics feel impossible the mask starts to crack. The system can't sustain the performance anymore. What protected you now depletes you. The strategy that once saved you becomes outdated. This is the tender heart of today. Your nervous system spent years in chronic mobilization, always scanning for social cues, always compensating, always ready to adjust. It was so exhausting. It worked until it didn't. When burnout forces the slowdown, when you finally rest, unmask a little or just can't keep up. The shift toward parasympathetic rest and repair begins, but identity lags behind physiology. For so long, who I am was tied to the performance, the reliable one, the articulate one, the one who never lets the mask slip. When that quiets, there's a void, a lag where the old self hasn't fully released and the authentic one hasn't yet emerged. Many women describe it the same way after late diagnosis or burnout. I don't know who I am without the mask. It feels like grief, like I'm lost, like I'm empty. That emptiness, isn't brokenness. It's unassigned energy capacity once spent on camouflaging, now free but unfamiliar. It's a space between roles between the performed self who earn belonging through usefulness and a self who might belong just by existing. Imagine it like this: for so long, you've been in a kind of prison. Not one made of bars you could see, but one built from necessity from years of masking to stay safe, to be accepted, to survive. The walls were invisible, but they were real to you. They kept parts of you locked away, your stems, your directness, your need for rest, your true rhythms. Then burnout or diagnosis or simply exhaustion hands you the keys, someone or something inside you finally says, here, these are yours. The door's unlocked. You can step out, but standing at that open door, it can feel terrifying. You've lived in that confined space for decades. The air outside is vast. It's unfamiliar. You start asking, what if I don't know how to walk in it? What if my legs are weak from disuse? What if freedom itself feels too big to exposing? Friend you have the keys, but gathering the courage, the strength, the knowledge to turn them fully? And step through. It doesn't happen all at once. It's okay to stand there holding them, breathing, feeling the light on your face without rushing forward. It's okay to hesitate. It's okay to stay there for a while, but don't stay there forever. This in-between is secret. Even if it aches, your nervous system is finally safe enough to stop the constant performance. Identity isn't gone. It's waiting to reform through unforced experience, not through effort or thought. You are not empty. You're between masks. Maybe slowly stepping toward no mask at all. This is the time of fear, excitement, and hesitation all at once. It's a time to taste freedom. Right now you might notice desire feels distant. Hobbies, goals, even special interests don't pull the same way. They used to be escapes or performance too. Ambition is flattened. The drive to prove capability to be high functioning isn't there. Goals feel vague or pointless. You stare at your day and wonder, what do I even want? Who am I if I'm not useful, impressive, or holding it all together? This isn't failure or depression in disguise. Though it can overlap and many of us carry those misdiagnosis. It's recalibration. When masking has been your baseline, authentic desire gets buried under what will keep me safe or what will keep me accepted. When the pressure lifts raw wanting doesn't snap back, it emerges. Slowly in safety. The same with identity. It doesn't arrive through forcing clarity or big realizations. It grows in small, repeated moments of beam without agenda, whether that would be your stemming freely, you're saying no without explanation. You're being blunt without feeling guilty. You're even resting without feeling guilt or shame. And in day-to-day life, these moments start showing up in the quietest ways. You step outside for a walk, nothing planned, no goal in mind. The air feels cool on your skin, then you hear it: the sweet, simple sounds of birds chirping overhead. Their notes clear and unhurried for a second. Something inside softens a small, genuine joy flickers warm yours and not performed for anyone. These tiny experiences accumulate slowly through walks like this, through noticing the light on leaves or the rhythm of your own breath, the things that once felt lost, the parts of your authentic self that masking, pushed aside, begin to come back. Curiosity without agenda, delight in a small sensory detail, a sense of presence that doesn't need to earn anything. Freedom starts to become your foundation. Not something you chase, but something you rest into moment by moment. No need to manufacture motivation today. Just orient. This flatness is normal after years of high masking desire and self return. When the body trust that rest won't mean collapse, the authenticity won't mean isolation. So stay present, and let the journey unfold. One soft invitation, not a task to perform, just a doorway. In a quiet moment. Perhaps with something comforting nearby, like a weighted blanket, a dim light, a favorite texture. Ask yourself gently. When I'm not trying to be impressive, useful, or normal, what feels neutral or even slightly comforting? There is no pressure or profound answer here. Just notice what arises. Maybe it's allowing a stem without hiding it. Maybe it's silence no Social scripts running, maybe a slow routine with fewer choices. Maybe the simple rhythm of breath or sunlight or special interest, indulged without productivity attached. Whatever shows up, even if it's small or nothing, let that be enough. This noticing is a seed of emergence. Feeling what's yours when performance isn't required. I encourage you to write or even voice record these insights so that when the pressure to mask and perform again arises, you can be taken back to moments of simplicity and reminders of the joys and freedom of simply being you. As we close, remember, the season isn't about crafting a new, better masked or becoming someone unrecognizable. It's about letting the authentic you emerge without performance as the entry fee. You don't have to earn existence. You don't have to prove worth through capability. You're allowed to simply be autistic, to be human, to be here and see what wants to grow from that truth. If this episode stirred up more questions than answers, that's actually the work. I support women who are in the exact in between. The old identity no longer fits, but the new one hasn't landed yet. If you want support walking through that, you can find me on Instagram or book a session through the link in the show notes. I'm so grateful you spent this time with me today, and I hope something here gave you support, clarity, or even a little bit of peace. If you'd like more conversations like this, I'd love for you to subscribe so you don't miss feature episodes. Your support helps this podcast reach other autistic women and neurodivergent people who might be looking for a space like this too. If this episode resonated with you, leaving a review is one of the most meaningful ways to support the show. And if there are topics you need help with, questions you want explored, or even if what I'm talking about isn't quite what you're looking for. I truly wanna hear from you. You can connect with me on Instagram. My profile is linked in the show notes. And if you know someone who might benefit from today's episode, please feel free to share it with them. Sending you calm and compassion. Until next time.