The Masked Psychedelic Experience

For many, psychedelics like LSD, psilocybin, DMT, and MDMA have a reputation for unlocking deeper self-awareness, fostering emotional healing, and even offering a window into spiritual insights.

Yet for some if us—those unknowingly autistic or still grappling with unrecognized neurodivergence—the psychedelic experience can amplify inner truths that they've long kept hidden. What begins as a journey toward clarity can sometimes lead to an overwhelming confrontation with sensory overload, intense overthinking, or profound feelings of alienation.

Psychedelics might not have all the answers, but they can serve as powerful mirrors, reflecting back the parts of yourself that you’ve hidden away.

But rather than seeing this as a failure to "break through" or reach the same depths of insight as others, these moments can actually be signposts—opportunities to embrace a part of yourself that has been masked or misunderstood for years. The key is in recognizing how psychedelics can illuminate autistic traits, offering a path not just to insight, but to transformation.

Sensory Overload

Psychedelics like LSD and psilocybin often heighten the senses, revealing an enhanced world of vibrant colors, intricate patterns, and subtle shifts in perception. For most, this is experienced as an enriching and often joyful enhancement of reality. However, for those with autistic traits, these same sensory shifts can become overwhelming or even distressing. The sounds, colors, and sensations that delight others can feel like an onslaught, pushing the brain's sensory processing capabilities to their limit.

shimmering trees

Imagine walking through a forest on psilocybin. The leaves shimmer with iridescent beauty, the sun seems to sparkle through the trees like cosmic rays, and the sounds of the forest floor crunch underfoot with surreal intensity. For some, this is magical. But if you have an autistic sensory system, you might find yourself unable to filter any of this. Every rustle, every beam of light, every slight change in texture might feel as if it’s bearing down on you simultaneously. Instead of feeling connected to nature, you might feel trapped inside it—bombarded by stimuli that your mind can’t sort through fast enough.

This is more than just a "bad trip." It’s a window into how your brain processes the world every day, even if you’re not fully aware of it. You may have spent years learning to suppress, filter, or control these experiences in daily life—what’s often called “masking”—but psychedelics strip away these defenses. They reveal the full scope of your sensory experience, which can serve as a valuable insight into how your mind really works.

Navigating Social Disconnection

One of the more celebrated effects of psychedelics, particularly MDMA, is the way they open people up emotionally, breaking down barriers between individuals and allowing for deep feelings of connection and empathy. Many describe a profound sense of unity, a warmth that extends across the boundaries of self and other. But for someone with unrecognized autistic traits, this sense of unity can feel just out of reach, as though there’s an invisible wall between you and the people around you.

On MDMA, while others might feel a heightened sense of emotional closeness, you might find yourself hyper-aware of the mechanics of social interaction—wondering if you're making enough eye contact, if your facial expressions are reflecting the mood correctly, or if you're keeping up with the rhythm of the conversation. Rather than being swept away in the euphoria of connection, you might feel more isolated, with the drug only intensifying your awareness of these social challenges.

Here’s the reframing: Instead of viewing this as a failure to experience MDMA “properly,” recognize that this hyper-awareness is an insight into your autistic social processing. You’re not broken or failing—your brain is wired differently, and that difference can help you understand yourself in new and powerful ways. Psychedelics, by stripping away the masks you’ve learned to wear, can help you see more clearly how much energy you’ve invested in mimicking neurotypical social behavior and how deeply that effort has shaped your sense of self.

Psychedelics Can Amplify the Mind’s Need for Control

For many, psychedelics foster a state of flow—a sense of being carried along by thoughts and ideas, effortlessly connecting the dots between seemingly unrelated concepts. For someone with autistic traits, though, this free-flowing experience can quickly devolve into a cascade of overanalysis, where the mind clings to every detail, dissecting and deconstructing everything until it becomes overwhelming.

Let’s say you’re on LSD. While others around you are losing themselves in the beauty of their surroundings or the novelty of their thoughts, you might find yourself locked in a loop—obsessively analyzing the significance of a single word someone said or the symbolism of a random object you encountered. You might even be fixated on understanding why the experience isn’t unfolding as you expected, diving into endless layers of self-critique and doubt.

This tendency toward intense focus and analysis is a hallmark of autism, and it can become particularly pronounced during psychedelic experiences.

Rather than viewing it as a negative, this can be an opportunity to recognize how your brain’s processing style—its need for control, order, and precision—differs from that of others. The challenge is to practice letting go, to notice when you're gripping too tightly to the details, and to explore ways to soften that instinct.

Decoding the Abstract

Psychedelics like DMT are notorious for producing vivid, surreal experiences that many users interpret as rich with metaphorical meaning. Users might encounter fantastical beings, otherworldly landscapes, or intensely symbolic imagery that they understand as representing deep spiritual truths or emotional lessons. But for those with autistic traits, these experiences can be more confusing than enlightening.

Autistic people often process information more literally, which can make the abstract nature of psychedelic visions particularly challenging. You might see a serpent slithering through a vast cosmic landscape, while others describe it as a metaphor for transformation or rebirth. You, however, might find yourself stuck wondering what a serpent has to do with anything, trying to piece together a literal interpretation that simply doesn’t fit.

Rather than getting lost in the confusion, this is another moment of insight. Psychedelics might reveal the gap between how you process symbolic information and how others do. This doesn’t mean you’re missing out on something—it’s just a reflection of the fact that your brain operates differently, prioritizing concrete details over abstract interpretation. Recognizing this can help you navigate not only psychedelic experiences but also the way you engage with symbolism and meaning in everyday life.

Ego Dissolution and the Fragmented Self

Psychedelics, particularly LSD and psilocybin, are known for producing what is often referred to as “ego dissolution” or “ego death”—the sense that the boundaries between self and the outside world are melting away, leading to a state of unity or oneness. For neurotypical users, this can be an expansive and freeing experience, allowing them to momentarily step outside their usual identities and experience a deeper connection with the universe.

But for those with unrecognized autism, whose sense of self might already feel fragile or fragmented, this dissolution can be disorienting or even terrifying. Rather than feeling liberated, you might feel like you’re losing your grip on who you are altogether. If your identity has been shaped by years of masking—constantly adjusting your behavior to fit in with neurotypical norms—then the psychedelic experience might strip away those masks, leaving you feeling exposed and unsure of where your true self begins and ends.

The insight here is profound: psychedelics are showing you how much of your identity has been shaped by the need to conform to social expectations, and how little space you’ve given yourself to be authentically you. This ego dissolution isn’t just about connecting with a larger spiritual force—it’s about connecting with the parts of yourself that have been buried under layers of adaptation and performance.

The feeling of loss is real, but it’s also an invitation to rebuild your sense of self in a way that honors your neurodivergence rather than suppresses it.

Reclaiming Your True Self

If you’ve seen yourself in these descriptions—if you’ve experienced sensory overload, social disconnection, overanalysis, struggles with metaphor, or a fragile sense of self during a psychedelic trip—it might be time to explore the possibility that you’re autistic. But more than that, it’s time to view these experiences not as failures, but as opportunities for deep personal growth.

The insights that psychedelics reveal are not just about the trip itself—they’re about the truth of how you move through the world every day. Recognizing that you might be autistic can help you understand why you experience things so differently, why you’ve spent so much time masking, and why the insights from psychedelics can sometimes feel disjointed or alienating.

The goal isn’t just to have a “better” trip next time, but to use these insights as tools for unmasking your true self. Accepting your neurodivergence can be one of the most liberating steps toward living more authentically.