by 
Exploring the hidden challenges that come with masking and navigating life as an autistic woman.
Because I work (more than) full-time, live alone, and manage most aspects of adult life, I’m often considered a “high-functioning” autistic person. On the surface, I look like I’ve got it all together. I can pay my bills, hold down a job, and even engage in small talk at the grocery store when necessary. Compared to someone who is nonspeaking or requires higher support, I may seem like I function “well enough.”
But if you look a little closer, you’ll realize that these labels — “high-functioning” or “low-functioning” — oversimplify a complex reality. They ignore the mental exhaustion, the constant effort to mask, and the profound struggles that ripple through every corner of my life.
Let me take you behind the scenes of my life to show how social challenges, sensory sensitivities, and emotional regulation impact everything — despite how “normal” I might appear on the outside.
What Does “High-Functioning” Autism Really Mean?
The term “high-functioning” autism was once used to describe individuals who had average to above-average intelligence and could perform daily tasks independently. This was often linked to those previously diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome before the DSM-5 merged it under the umbrella of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD).
However, autism is not a straight line from “least autistic” to “most autistic.” It’s a multidimensional spectrum with varied strengths and support needs that shift depending on context, environment, and energy levels. Someone who can ace a job interview one day may completely shut down after a sensory overload the next.
The truth is, my ability to function can fluctuate wildly. One day, I might meet all my deadlines and feel accomplished. The next, I might forget to eat because I’ve been hyper focused on a task or be so emotionally drained from masking at work that I can’t even respond to a simple text.
How Well Do I “Function” at Work?
A few months ago, I was promoted from a writing position to an editing role — a step up that I had worked toward for years. I was eager to succeed, but I didn’t realize how unprepared I was for the social nuances required in this new position.
My goal was to help the writers improve their work, but I approached it in the only way I knew — being direct, honest, and efficient. I believed that giving clear, actionable feedback would help them grow. But then my boss pulled me aside after a team meeting and told me she had received several complaints.
Writers said I came off as “incredibly condescending” at best and “downright bullying” at worst. I was crushed. I had been trying so hard to do everything “right,” and yet, somehow, I had misread the social cues and misjudged the emotional impact of my words.
This was a painful reminder that my natural communication style — blunt, analytical, and solution-focused — often doesn’t align with neurotypical expectations. I wasn’t intentionally being rude or dismissive. I was just trying to be helpful in the only way I knew how.
Social Struggles Don’t Stop After Work
After a long day of masking and navigating office politics, I often collapse into bed, utterly drained. The amount of energy it takes to appear “normal” is exhausting. But the social challenges don’t end when I leave the office.
Small talk with neighbors, maintaining friendships, and even responding to texts can feel like monumental tasks. I genuinely want to connect with others, but my brain processes social interactions differently. I can overanalyze a simple conversation for hours, picking apart every word and wondering if I accidentally offended someone.
Even with close friends, I often feel like I’m playing a role — trying to gauge the “right” amount of eye contact, the “appropriate” tone of voice, and the “expected” responses. And after any social event, I experience what I call a “social hangover” — an overwhelming exhaustion that can take days to recover from.
Sensory Overload and Emotional Dysregulation
Autism is not just about social differences. Sensory sensitivities are a huge part of my life. I experience sounds, lights, and textures more intensely than most people. The sound of fluorescent lights humming, the feeling of certain fabrics, or the overwhelming noise of a crowded room can push me to the brink of meltdown.
I’ve learned to mask this discomfort, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I might appear calm and composed, but internally, I’m screaming for an escape.
Emotional regulation is another area where I struggle. I can go from being perfectly fine to completely overwhelmed in seconds, especially when I’m tired or overstimulated. A minor inconvenience can feel catastrophic, and I have to work hard to pull myself back from the edge.
The Hidden Cost of Masking
One of the most exhausting aspects of being a “high-functioning” autistic person is masking — the practice of suppressing natural autistic traits to fit into neurotypical society.
I’ve spent years studying body language, tone, and social scripts so I can appear “normal.” But this constant effort to hide my true self comes at a price. Masking drains my energy, erodes my self-esteem, and contributes to burnout.
And the scariest part? Sometimes I mask so well that I lose sight of who I really am. I’ve spent so much time trying to be what others expect that I’m still learning how to embrace the authentic, unmasked version of myself.
Why I Reject the Label “High-Functioning”
Functioning labels don’t capture the full picture of an autistic person’s life. They create a false narrative that if someone is “high-functioning,” they don’t need support, and if someone is “low-functioning,” they lack potential.
The reality is, I have areas where I excel and areas where I struggle deeply. My ability to “function” varies day to day, hour to hour, depending on my sensory environment, emotional state, and energy levels.
So, while I may appear to be a “high-functioning” autistic woman, the truth is far more complicated. Beneath the surface, I’m constantly navigating a world that wasn’t built for me — and that takes more effort than anyone can see.
Final Thoughts: Embracing the Full Spectrum
Understanding autism means acknowledging the complexity beyond labels. By moving away from simplistic terms like “high-functioning” and embracing the full spectrum of experiences, we can better support and empower autistic individuals — no matter where they fall on that spectrum.
I’m still learning how to embrace all the parts of myself — the strong, capable version and the exhausted, overwhelmed one. And that’s okay. Because functioning isn’t a fixed state — it’s a spectrum, and we all move along it in different ways.
