Theresa singing with her eyes closed. If she’s not intentionally masking, this is how she likes to sing.
I grew up as an undiagnosed autistic female in the 1960s when autism was just beginning to be understood in boys but much less so in girls. I had behavioral problems as early as preschool, where I was called “challenging” and I exhibited bouts of meltdowns and lack of self-control (emotional regulation). Nobody knew what to do with me.
I started playing piano at age 5 and I did have musical talent. Throughout grade school I was constantly in trouble with my teachers though I remained the smartest, fastest, and most talkative student in the class. By 4th grade I was writing songs and by 6th grade I sang my first public solo.
By junior high I was getting leads and solos in all the productions in music theater and choir. I still had issues with classroom behavior but because I began to sing, my behaviors were tempered through the employment of my musical talent. I discovered that I could stand in front of an audience and perform and I was good at it.
Because I was among the artistic and creative individuals in my peer group, my autistic characteristic were obscured by my talkative presentation and positive output. By high school I among the top two soloists at a specialized school, where singers abounded. I sang solos by Mozart and Kodály and knew I wanted to pursue classical singing as my career.
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I did, however, have trouble in regular work environments. I did not do well in regular jobs. I worked in such positions as in nursing homes, an advertising agency, and waitressing, but it was only until I started performing gigs that I found some level of success. This was because I was able to transfer my ability to “mask” to the performance milieu and this capitalize on this unique form of one-way communication.
For me, masking was the key to my success. I was able to offer music and singing but it was a one-way situation, which is ideal for the autistic person with difficulties in social interaction. I was the one offering and the audience was receiving. It was perfect for a highly talkative and verbal person like me, who would monopolize a conversation if left unhindered by any form of mindful reciprocity.
I went through my early adult years and through middle age with a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Many autistic females have been misdiagnosed because some of the features of autism are similar to the manic elements of bipolar disorder. I held this notion until middle age.
Through my adult years I achieved two degrees in vocal music performance and was able to obtain a position in a university teaching music history, music fundamentals, and conducting the campus choir. I also had begun teaching private voice lessons in several music schools. The private lesson worked out better for me because it was only one person and 1-1 interaction was easier for me than trying to manage a group of 25-40 potentially unruly students in a lecture setting. Conducting the choir worked out well because there were no behavioral issues among the students to contend with. But I did not do well in the unpredictabilities and stress of the lecture setting and eventually campus choir was all I maintained.
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The only real success I had was in my solo performing. I managed to mask well enough before and after the gig to execute the whole experience proficiently. But all those years I did not know what I was doing, that what I was doing was an actual thing called “masking.” I called it “putting on my face” and that it what I was able to do to be successful in any way. I also was successful in the 1-1 interaction of private voice instruction, because not only is the interaction less stressful than dealing with a large, potentially uncontrollable group of students, but my eccentricities and quirks unique to being autistic were more acceptable as part of the persona of a voice teacher.
In my mid-50s I finally received a diagnosis of Level 1 Autism. It was a great relief to me, because as time went on, I was able to process the aspects of my life which previously made no sense, and it began to make sense. I began to understand why singing before an audience was successful for me and other forms of employment were not. I saw that because there were few variables for change, because it was 1-way communication, because I could mask, that performing publicly with my singing voice worked for me.
I devote most of my creative energies now to writing, as I have done in parallel to my singing all my life. I also perform my poetry in various pubic readings, where I still utilize masking as a key to my success. My book Finally Autistic: Finding my Autism Diagnosis as a Middle-Aged Female describes the entire process of discovering my diagnosis and how I am living today. I am grateful for this knowledge, for it explains my past, gives grace to the present, and is helping guide my future.
