Unmasking Autism by Devon Price, PhD: A Therapist’s Reflection on Masking, Creativity, and Coming Home to Yourself
There’s a particular kind of loneliness I’ve carried for as long as I can remember—a quiet ache that has shaped much of my inner world. I’ve learned to soothe it mostly by moving around it rather than through it.
My most reliable strategy?
Striving.
Striving gives me the illusion that if I just do a little more, learn a little more, be a little more, I might finally outrun discomfort.
I know better, of course. Suffering is part of being human. But some part of me still clings to the fantasy of escape. So I fall into the pattern, crawl out of it, and tumble back in again.
In my life, striving often looks like chasing what the “experts” insist leads to happiness. And to be fair, many of those strategies are genuinely useful. It’s just that I apply them with the sharp edge of perfectionism.
I’ve healed addictions. I’ve recovered from an eating disorder. Yet this particular pattern—the belief that my worth is one accomplishment away—slips back into my life with a kind of velvety stealth.
I do get breaks from it. I’ll find myself entering a phase where I can be still, read, rest, and simply enjoy what I love. But inevitably, a restless hum begins to build—like a rubber band pulled tight—until I’m back to pushing, producing, curating, performing.
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Reading Unmasking Autism cracked something open for me.
(Okay, maybe it let in some air… and then I tried to stitch the crack back up… and then it opened again. But still—something is moving.)
This book reminded me what becomes possible when I stop contorting myself. When I let myself be who I am. Wear the earrings I love. Reclaim my identity as an artist and dancer.
Unmasking Autism is rooted in Autism, but the invitation is universal:
liberate yourself from the story of who you’re supposed to be.
It celebrates the many ways brains operate. It makes space for authenticity instead of performance.
At its heart, Unmasking Autism gives all of us permission to stop performing to gain belonging.
And this mirrors a central theme of my own book—the way so many of us adopt roles and abandon parts of ourselves to stay connected within systems that weren’t built to hold our full humanity.
Five Lessons I’m Bringing Into the Therapy Room After Reading Unmasking Autism
1. Diagnosis Is a Privileged Maze—and Many People Are Excluded
Diagnostic models were originally built around white boys, and the result is predictable: many Autistic people—especially women, queer folks, and people of color—go unseen.
Price’s reminder is powerful:
If you identify, you belong here.
Self-recognition is an act of reclaiming.
2. Behavioral Therapy and the Legacy of Trauma
Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) is often framed as the “standard” treatment. But Price cites a striking statistic: 46% of Autistic adults who received ABA also report symptoms consistent with PTSD.
As he writes:
“They learned to mask. To comply. To smile on command. But not how to say no. Not how to feel safe in their own skin.”
A former ABA therapist even reflects:
“I fear I conditioned kids to be easier to manipulate and abuse.”
The point isn’t that support shouldn’t exist. It’s that support must focus on naming feelings, understanding sensations, and building internal safety—not suppressing behaviors to appear “normal.”
Normalize stimming. Teach regulation. Free up the energy that masking burns.
3. Obsession Isn’t a Problem—It’s a Rhythm
What many perceive as “fixation” is often part of the Autistic way of engaging with the world.
Passion creates calm. Deep dives create steadiness.
“They may operate in spurts. Let them rest where they find joy.”
There’s a profound wisdom in that.
4. Communication Should Be Collaborative, Not Corrective
On page 208, Price outlines how to co-create communication accommodations. This shifts the therapeutic focus from “improving social skills” to mutual understanding and consent.
For example, if a client seems uncomfortable maintaining eye contact, I simply ask:
“Would it feel better not to?”
There’s no issue. We just adjust.
I model stimming. I adjust my pacing. I let my own body find comfort too.
Communication is relational—not a one-way expectation.
5. Many Clients Learned to “Perform Normal” to Survive
Countless neurodivergent clients describe using fictional characters as templates—practicing facial expression, tone, or emotional timing.
“They’re not being fake. They’re building survival scripts.”
Then comes the haunting uncertainty—I know I’m missing something, but I can’t name what.
That gap creates lifelong self-doubt.
I have deep respect for that experience—the sense of speaking a different language in a world that insists everyone else is fluent.
Quotes From Unmasking Autism That Stayed With Me
On stimming:
“Some are unable to appreciate the emotional and psychological benefits of fidgeting or stimming because the importance of having ‘quiet hands’ was so deeply drilled into them.”
On neurodivergent design (p. 168):
“What would a world look like if it were built for diverse brains, instead of against them?”
I love the example Price gives of stores creating low-stimulus hours—dim lights, quieter music—to make space for sensitive nervous systems.
HSP or Autistic? Rethinking the Categories
One of the more surprising threads in this book is the overlap between Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) traits and autism.
Elaine Aron, who coined the HSP term, later revealed that some of the people she initially described through that lens were eventually diagnosed as Autistic.
For years, HSP has been more socially comfortable to claim. Autism has been saddled with stereotypes—emotionless, rigid, robotic—that simply aren’t accurate.
Price’s work challenges that binary. It suggests that many people who identify as HSP may actually be neurodivergent in ways our systems have yet to fully understand.
A Different Way of Processing the World
One of the most compelling explanations in the book is how Autistic brains process information differently. Without the same level of synaptic pruning seen in allistic brains, Autistic people take in all the data—not just the “important” bits.
Imagine walking through a forest:
-
an allistic person sees the trail
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an Autistic person notices the moss, the sound, the light shift, the pressure of their socks, the texture of the air
It’s not a failure of focus.
It’s a different kind of focus.
And with that depth comes a brilliance that doesn’t get nearly enough recognition.
Conclusion: You Were Never the Problem
This book reminded me of something I say to clients often—but struggle to fully believe for myself:
There’s nothing wrong with the way you are.
So much of our suffering comes not from our neurotype, sensitivity, or differences, but from the relentless pressure to mask, edit, or shrink ourselves to match someone else’s expectations.
Imagine what might shift if we simply stopped.
Envision a world where therapy—and the culture around us—creates space for variation rather than demanding conformity.
Perhaps real healing begins not in perfecting ourselves, but in letting go of the belief that belonging must be earned.
Whether you’re Autistic, questioning, HSP, neurodivergent, or simply exhausted from performing a version of yourself that feels slightly off-center—this book offers a breath of relief.
Permission.
Possibility.
A way back to yourself.
Rest is allowed.
Obsession is allowed.
Sensitivity is allowed.
You are allowed.
Maybe belonging begins there.
More Resources on Unmasking & Neurodivergence
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