Unmasking the Body: Why So Many of Us Don’t Know What We Physically Feel

Bridgette Hamstead

For many autistic and otherwise neurodivergent people, the journey of self-understanding often begins in the mind. We may spend years researching, analyzing, reflecting, and masking to survive in a world that misunderstands us. But when the unmasking process begins, when we start peeling back the layers of who we were told to be and begin to embrace who we actually are, something else happens too. We begin to realize that we don’t truly live in our bodies. Many of us struggle to feel hunger until we are dizzy. We don't notice we are in pain until it becomes unmanageable. We cannot always tell the difference between anxiety and excitement, or between sadness and exhaustion. The signals from our bodies are either absent or so jumbled that we do not know what they mean. This is not a personal failure or a lack of self-awareness. It is the cumulative effect of disrupted interoception, trauma, and the chronic disconnection that comes from years of performing a false self to survive.

Interoception is the sense that allows us to perceive internal bodily states. It helps us know when we are thirsty, tired, full, in pain, or overwhelmed. For neurodivergent people, interoceptive differences are common and under-discussed. Some of us are hyporesponsive, which means the signals from inside our bodies feel faint, delayed, or unclear. Others are hyperresponsive, meaning those signals come through loudly or in ways that are overwhelming. Many of us fluctuate between the two. Interoceptive differences do not just impact physical needs like hunger or the urge to use the bathroom. They also influence how we process emotions, how we recognize and regulate stress, and how we navigate sensory and social environments. If the body is constantly sending messages that are too loud, too quiet, or contradictory, it becomes incredibly difficult to develop consistent self-awareness or self-trust.

This sensory confusion is often compounded by trauma. Many neurodivergent people experience trauma from a young age, not necessarily through acute events but through chronic invalidation. We are often told that our feelings are wrong, our responses are overblown, our sensitivities are fake, and our behaviors are disruptive. Over time, we learn to mistrust what we feel. If a child is told repeatedly that they are not actually in pain, that they are not hungry, or that they are not upset when they are clearly showing signs of distress, that child may begin to sever the connection between sensation and meaning. When the cues from the body are dismissed or punished, the safest option becomes to ignore them entirely.

This disconnection is also a form of masking. Masking is not just about hiding autistic traits in public. It is about suppressing every signal that could draw negative attention. That includes not crying when overwhelmed, not flinching when touched, not asking to eat when hungry, and not showing when something hurts. Many of us learn to override bodily sensations in order to meet the expectations of parents, teachers, peers, and workplaces. Over time, we may become so skilled at disconnecting from the body that we do not realize how fully we have abandoned it. We live in our heads, thinking about what we should feel instead of actually feeling it. We guess. We perform. We mask.

Reconnecting with the body after years of masking and trauma is not easy. It is also not linear. For many, this process begins with noticing. We may begin to ask ourselves questions throughout the day. When did I last eat? Am I tired or just overstimulated? Does my chest hurt because I am anxious or because I haven’t taken a deep breath in hours? These questions are not simple, and the answers may not come right away. In fact, they often don’t. But the act of asking begins to rebuild the bridge between mind and body.

Unmasking the body also means learning to move from survival mode into states of safety and regulation. When we are constantly in fight, flight, freeze, or fawn, it becomes difficult to access bodily cues in a clear or accurate way. Trauma keeps the nervous system on high alert. For some, that means tuning everything out just to keep going. For others, it means being flooded with signals that cannot be processed. Practices that foster a sense of safety, such as deep breathing, gentle movement, warm baths, or sensory-friendly environments, can help the body begin to speak again. However, these practices must be approached with care and consent. For people with a long history of bodily disconnection, even tuning in to the body can feel threatening or overwhelming. There is no one-size-fits-all strategy. Reconnection must be gentle, curious, and paced according to each person’s capacity.

It is also important to recognize that reconnecting with the body is a form of resistance. In a world that teaches neurodivergent people to suppress, ignore, or distrust their internal experience, choosing to listen to your body is a radical act. Choosing to rest when tired, to eat when hungry, to pause when overwhelmed, and to feel what is true without filtering it through what is expected, is an act of reclaiming selfhood. It is not always easy. In fact, it is often painful. Many of us grieve the years we spent disconnected. We grieve the meals skipped, the injuries overlooked, the needs denied. We grieve the fact that it took so long to realize we were allowed to feel at all.

Yet that grief is part of the healing. It shows that something has shifted. To feel sorrow is to feel. To feel discomfort is to begin the process of making meaning from sensation. To recognize a need, even if we cannot yet meet it, is progress. The body, even when ignored for years, still wants to communicate. It is still trying to care for us. It holds pain, but it also holds wisdom. Learning to listen to that wisdom takes time and practice. It takes unlearning what we were told about how we are supposed to feel. It takes reimagining what it means to be whole.

Unmasking the body is not about becoming perfectly attuned or fully embodied all at once. It is about slowly building a relationship with ourselves that includes the physical, emotional, and sensory dimensions of experience. It is about recognizing that the mind is not separate from the body and that true self-awareness must include both. For neurodivergent people, especially those who have spent years masking, reconnecting with the body is a deeply personal and transformative journey. It is not just about tuning in to signals of hunger, pain, or emotion. It is about learning that we are allowed to feel, that our feelings make sense, and that we deserve to live in bodies that are respected, trusted, and cared for.