Practical Unmasking: Productivity
Routine, Rhythm, and the Push–Pull of Change
This post is part of the “Practical Unmasking” series, where I explore how unmasking shows up in real life, from everyday choices to big life transitions. You’ll find a mix of personal reflections, guest perspectives, and tools rooted in Acceptance and Commitment Coaching and the SAFE Unmasking™ process. While many posts reflect neurodivergent and trauma-informed perspectives, the insights can apply broadly. Wherever you are in your journey, I hope you’ll find something here that supports you.
To read the first post in this series, learn all about masking, and why we all do it, click the button below.
[Practical Unmasking: Productivity]
Writing a paper the night before it’s due, hands shaking from too much caffeine.
Dropping the “missed return deadline” item by the trash with a note, hoping it serves someone else.
Re-soaking the same dishes for the third time instead of washing them.
Letting people down again so I can race to finish something I delayed too long.
For most of my life, I believed my struggles with productivity were my own failure. I thought I was flaky, disorganized, unmotivated, even selfish. That’s what people said, and I accepted it as the truth. Holding onto that view became a mask I wore, one that brought only conflict and disappointment. It took years of burnout, therapy, and a late diagnosis of autism and ADHD before I could see things differently.
It wasn’t a lack of motivation. It was masking. It was doing everything I could to pass as capable, while silently managing chaos that no one else could see.
We’re often taught to admire masking when it looks like self-sacrifice. Books and movies praise the character who bends to others, who smiles through discomfort and calls it love. But in real life, masking doesn’t guarantee safety, acceptance, or recognition. Sometimes, the reward is just being tolerated. Sometimes, there’s no reward at all. Just exhaustion. Masking fits well into toxic social and family systems. I believed that if I worked hard enough to fix everything that was broken, worthiness would follow. During a podcast with Dr. Ramani Durvasula, therapist Patrick Teahan said that the definitive symptom of childhood trauma is “trying to get a difficult person to be good to us.” It all fits together like a hand and glove.
That belief shaped how I moved through the world, including how I began building my practice. Launching this Substack and starting my online coaching work have been years in the making. It started in 2017, when I first began talk therapy. From that point on, I started moving toward supporting late-diagnosed neurodivergent adults. Along the way, I’ve earned certifications, created coaching materials, developed my own frameworks, written several guides, and learned to market my work. I built a website. I started writing and learned how to edit that writing, too. I’ve taught myself to use tools like Canva, ProWritingAid, Mailchimp, Paperbell, Google Workspace, and more.
I’ve been busy.
Getting this work done has taken time, energy, and focus. I’ve had to find ways to be productive. So, as I start this series on practical unmasking, it feels right to begin with the topic of productivity.
Living with a combination of autism and ADHD creates a push and pull dynamic. As an autistic person, I feel comfort in routine. I like knowing what I’m doing and when. It feels predictable and calming. At the same time, my ADHD craves variety, stimulation, and new experiences. Sometimes I’m ready to jump into something new. Other times, I need to pause and rest.
The best way I’ve found to describe this is with ocean waves. In nature, waves ebb and flow with varied intensity and frequency. My brain naturally moves between periods of high energy and focus and slower phases of rest and recovery. For most of my life, I didn’t have the language for this. I felt out of sync and couldn’t explain why. Now I can see it clearly. I accept it, I work with it, and I build my life around it. I also talk openly about it, without shame. This is what unmasking productivity looks like for me.
Let’s talk about it.
Productivity, Masks, and Survival
I have struggled with productivity for as long as I can remember. Often, I get distracted or miss deadlines on tasks that don’t align with my needs or goals. Yet, I also notice ways to improve those tasks and feel compelled to share my ideas. This combination confuses others because both things are happening for different reasons. When I don’t connect with a task’s purpose, my energy fades quickly, but my pattern-recognition drives me to speak up. The feedback I receive is often critical, and though I know better, I still take it to heart. Rejection sensitivity and past trauma add up, making me brace for pain in similar situations. This mindset stayed with me for years.
I thought I just needed to work harder, to be better. I believed that if I fixed myself, I’d finally be appreciated and things would fall into place.
Productivity can be harmful for neurodivergent people. Not because we are dangerous, but because of what we internalize when we cannot meet expectations. For me, my perceived lack of productivity was proof that I was lazy or lacked willpower. For others, it takes different forms. Some feel constant pressure to be perfect. Some overdo it to prove they’re trying. Productivity becomes a mask that causes harm. Most people never see what’s behind it. They only judge the person wearing it.
As a kid, no one saw me as neurodivergent. I was just labeled the “bad” one. They said I was too much, too loud, too intense. Supposedly by choice. By the time I got to college, the words changed, but the dynamic stayed the same. I was called flaky, unreliable, not doing my part. I kept hoping that each new setting would be a reset, but somehow I always ended up in the same role. Eventually, I started to believe what people said. I figured the problem must be me.
That same pattern continued in adult life, especially at work. I’d hear things like “you have so much potential” followed by “you just need to be more consistent.” Feedback often felt vague and oddly personal. When I offered ideas, they were brushed off or treated like distractions. It felt like my challenges canceled out my contributions. Over time, that wore me down and made me second-guess myself. Without the right support, it was hard not to feel like I was constantly falling short.
Not knowing I was neurodivergent shaped how I viewed myself and my ability to be productive. Add trauma into the mix and it got more complicated. Some people respond by shutting down. Others go all in with perfectionism and overworking. Either way, the mask stays on. My mask didn’t look like success. It looked like a failure I believed was my fault. I wore the mask of someone trying to figure it out, but never quite could. That was my survival strategy.
Others wear different masks. They meet every deadline and exceed expectations, but never stop moving. They push themselves past their limits, afraid of what will happen if they slow down. That’s their survival strategy. All these masks are painful. None allows us to be fully seen.
To check out a list of my series with descriptions and links, click below.
Demand, Pressure, and Processing
Autonomy is key to my productivity. For some of us, it’s not just a preference but a basic need. I experience something called demand avoidance, which is often mistaken for being difficult or controlling. In reality, it’s about protecting my ability to work in ways that suit my brain, not someone else’s expectations.
When I’m told exactly what to do and how to do it, especially without context, I feel strong resistance. That resistance comes from both past trauma and how my brain naturally works. I’ve been called stubborn or uncooperative, even condescending. But what looked like defiance was really me holding on to the systems I’ve built to function effectively.
I’ve spent years developing strategies that help me get things done. When those are dismissed, it feels like I’m doing everything wrong. That judgment makes productivity even harder. In some jobs, I felt constant pressure and dread, believing I was failing no matter how hard I tried. Most of my peers seemed to manage easily, and I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t keep up.
For neurodivergent brains like mine, productivity and overwhelm are deeply intertwined. One key component to this dynamic is monotropism—the tendency to hyper-focus on one thing at a time. When I’m deep in a task, shifting gears can feel almost impossible. Multitasking isn’t about attitude. It’s about neurology.
Workplaces tend to reward people who are flexible, agile, and quick to respond. There is an expectation to shift focus easily, jump between tasks, and show a “can-do attitude” at all times. For someone with monotropism, this kind of fast-paced, ever-changing environment can be overwhelming. The constant need to adapt on demand doesn’t just challenge productivity, it drains it completely. Because most systems do not accommodate deep focus or gradual transitions, it can look like I am slow, unmotivated, or unwilling to keep up. But I am often working intensely behind the scenes, just not in ways that are visible or easily measured. This mismatch between how I work best and what is expected can lead to chronic stress and eventually burnout.
When expectations don’t match how our brains function, the result isn’t just burnout. It can also lead to coping strategies that are harder to recognize, like dissociation. When I feel overloaded, my brain sometimes disconnects. I drift into daydreaming or mentally check out to avoid emotional overwhelm. This helped me avoid shutdowns and meltdowns, which may be why others rarely saw how much I was struggling. But dissociation also meant missing information, losing track of deadlines, and falling behind. I blamed myself and felt ashamed, even though I was doing my best just to function.
I also experience delayed processing. I often need time to reflect before I fully understand what I think or feel. I might say one thing in the moment and return later with a different perspective. That change isn’t dishonesty or indecision. It’s simply how I process. In environments that value quick decisions and instant clarity, this can be confusing or frustrating for others.
Together, dissociation and delayed processing add invisible layers that can make productivity seem inconsistent or unreliable. I may zone out, lose track of time, or appear disengaged, even while doing my best to stay present. From the outside, it can look like I’m not paying attention or not trying hard enough. But these responses are not laziness or avoidance. They are my nervous system’s way of managing stress. They are survival strategies.
Not all neurodivergent people experience productivity the way I do, but many of us learn to mask our struggles in order to survive. Some push themselves to meet every deadline, exceed every expectation, and stay in constant motion. They may look adaptable and high-performing, but they are burning out behind the scenes. Others may freeze or shut down completely, unable to function under pressure. Whether the mask looks like perfection or avoidance, both responses often stem from trauma, unmet needs, and unsupportive environments. Different responses, but the same toll: burnout, shame, and overwhelm. Because these patterns are often invisible or misread, they rarely result in the accommodations that could help prevent them.
Unmasking means understanding our needs and being honest about what helps us thrive. It means making room for our natural rhythms instead of forcing ourselves to meet someone else’s idea of success. With the right support, communication, and flexibility, we can contribute meaningfully. We do not need to change who we are to be productive. We just need space to be ourselves.
New around here? Click the button below to get your bearings.
Rewriting the Productivity Narrative
After years of therapy and eventually receiving neurodivergent diagnoses, I began to see the bigger picture. I started noticing patterns, not just in my behavior, but in how I had internalized other people’s messages. I used my ability to recognize systems and dynamics to advocate for my past self instead of criticizing him. I realized a story had been written for me early on by other people. I believed that story and added to it with shame. But it didn’t serve me. It only kept me stuck.
One of the masks I wore looked like this: “I’m a well-intentioned guy who just hasn’t figured it out yet. I want to do good, but I can’t. I know that’s a problem. It’s okay if you treat me differently because I deserve it.”
That mask helped me survive when I didn’t know what else to do. I convinced myself I was being honest, humble, and accountable. But really, I just needed something to hold on to. For many of us, even standing in a hard place feels safer than floating with no direction. That version of me was shaped by fear, not truth. It was never a real connection. It was protection.
Workplaces and communities often value labels like “agile,” “adaptable,” “focused,” and “collaborative.” These are usually defined by how quickly someone shifts priorities and conforms to existing systems. But for neurodivergent people, we need to rethink what these qualities mean. Agility might look like creative problem-solving when we’re given time. Focus might mean getting deeply absorbed in a project, without keeping part of your attention ready to shift when someone else needs you. Adaptability could be honoring our energy rhythms instead of pushing through exhaustion. A can-do attitude might mean advocating for accommodations so we can actually do what we’re capable of.
We don’t need to fit into narrow definitions of productivity to be valuable. Unmasking allows us to rewrite the story not just about who we are, but how we work best and why that matters.
Unmasking, Self-Compassion, and Sustainable Success
For many neurodivergent people like myself, productivity is a complex and painful experience. I used to believe that my inconsistent productivity was a personal failure. From childhood through adulthood, I wore a mask of trying to “figure it out” while feeling like I was falling short. I was willing to accept the negative outcomes because there were no other alternatives. I put extensive efforts into being charming and personable to balance out my negative qualities. That mask helped me survive, but it wasn’t authentic and it certainly wasn’t sustainable.
The systems I navigated were built for neurotypical brains. Expectations to multitask, switch priorities, and maintain a can-do attitude felt overwhelming. Because of monotropism, my brain focused intensely on one thing at a time. Transitioning between tasks was draining. My need for longer processing time was misunderstood. These messages deepened shame, dissociation, and burnout.
Others mask differently in these types of situations. Some strive for perfection and risk burnout. Others shut down. These struggles often stay out of view, carefully managed so others don’t see. This kind of masking shows up in other communities too, especially where people are navigating added layers of expectation or marginalization. It is also common among people from different cultural backgrounds, non-dominant language speakers, and those living with mental health conditions, chronic illness, or disabilities. Many of us face pressure to meet narrow definitions of productivity without enough support.
Eventually, I started mapping out what was really happening. I stopped criticizing myself. I realized I didn’t have to keep living out a narrative shaped by shame. I could define productivity in a way that honors how my brain works and what I value.
Unmasking productivity means recognizing and letting go of the false narratives we adopted to fit into systems that were never built for us. It’s about understanding how our brains function and creating ways to work that respect our needs. Unmasking replaces self-judgment with self-compassion. It helps us build habits that align with our true selves.
Now, I’m experiencing more meaningful productivity than ever. By creating a work plan that fits who I am, I’m making steady progress. I keep a list and do what I can. Each task is a step forward that respects my natural rhythm. The growth is slow, steady, and real. Adult learning expert Malcolm Knowles once wrote that adults are most motivated to learn when it connects to their life experiences and immediate needs. I believe the same is true for productivity. Part of why I can follow through now is because I’m doing something that aligns with my values and long-term goals. Not everyone has the time, financial stability, or support system that makes it possible to build a business from the ground up like I’m doing. I know that having those resources is a privilege. But even within more limited circumstances, finding a personal connection or sense of meaning in your work can make productivity feel less like a burden and more like a form of care.
There’s a book by Dan Harris called Ten Percent Happier that focuses on the benefits of mindfulness. Its core idea is simple: mindfulness can help us feel a little better today than yesterday. Whether it’s one percent or ten, any increase is better than none. Over time, small steps lead to meaningful change. I apply this idea to unmasking and productivity. It’s not about instantly mastering unmasking or making drastic improvements. It’s about gradually feeling more supported and understood. Small changes practiced over time can improve well-being.
Reframing productivity through a compassionate lens allows us to make meaningful changes. When we feel understood, we’re more likely to thrive. This approach benefits anyone striving for authenticity, especially late-diagnosed neurodivergent people. Unmasking productivity offers a path toward self-trust, care, and sustainable growth.
Reflect, Reclaim, Redefine
Whether you’re late-diagnosed, undiagnosed, or just starting to question the roles you’ve played to stay afloat, you’re not alone. Productivity is one of the most common masks we wear, often without realizing it. If any part of this resonated with you, I invite you to explore these questions at your own pace or share your thoughts in the comment section below:
What might it look like to unmask your relationship with productivity?
How would it feel to redefine what success means to you?
Could you let your process be imperfect, but real?
What if you built your work and worth around your actual needs, values, and capacity?
To read the next post in this series, Practical Unmasking: Birthdays, click the button below.
Book SAFE Unmasking™ Coaching Sessions Today
Looking for support as you unmask and reconnect with yourself? I offer online coaching for late-identified autistic and ADHD adults, grounded in Acceptance and Commitment Coaching and the SAFE Unmasking™ processes.
Free unmasking resources on my website
If this post spoke to you, I invite you to visit my website where you can download free, practical guides designed to support your unmasking journey and deepen your understanding of neurodivergence. These resources are created with care for late-diagnosed autistic and ADHD adults, their allies, and anyone seeking compassionate tools to live more authentically.
Explore the full collection of PDFs, grounded in lived experience and the SAFE Unmasking™ and Acceptance and Commitment Coaching frameworks. Whether you’re starting out or looking for fresh insights, these guides offer clear, gentle support to help you build what lasts and live with greater clarity and confidence.
Here’s a glimpse of what you’ll find:
Meltdowns: A Guide for Autistics & Allies: Break down what happens before, during, and after meltdowns. Learn how to reduce shame, recognize triggers, and respond with empathy whether you’re autistic or supporting someone who is.
How To Support SAFE Unmasking™: A quick-start resource for allies of late-diagnosed autistic adults. Discover how to create safe spaces, offer compassionate support, and respect the pace of unmasking without pressure or judgment.
Finding SAFE Unmasking™ Spaces: Practical strategies to identify and create environments where you feel comfortable being your authentic self. Explore ways to build emotional, physical, and social safety that honor your needs.
The Value of SAFE Unmasking™: A guide for newly diagnosed autistic adults navigating their journey. Learn why unmasking matters, how it can improve your well-being, and how to take small steps toward living more authentically on your terms.
This is about what works for you. Honor what helps, and set the rest aside.
Click the button below to get your free guides and start exploring.
