How MDMA Helped Me Unmask Autism, masking, and why I’d rather be under a blanket than on the dancefloor

FEATURE | RONGOA / DRUGS

Written by Tashi Donnelly (she/her) | @tashi_rd | Feature Editor

If you’ve ever witnessed people on the empathogen–entactogenic drug known as MDMA, you’ll probably have an idea of what it does to a person.

MDMA, with its plethora of different names (Molly, Ecstasy, E, XTC, etc), produces feelings of euphoria, emotional openness, reduced anxiety, and enhances sensory perception. But I mostly knew it as the thing that made my friends talk about their feelings while chewing their jaws off, and then suddenly developing the inescapable urge to dance.

In my early 20s, I’d witnessed a lot of MDMA fueled partying without ever having tried it myself. I was a bit of a prissy narc back then (forgive me). But, mostly, I worried about embarrassing myself, considering my history with alcohol had already led to some regrettable behaviour at parties. I feared that if I partook in this drug, I would tear my clothes off, confess my deepest secrets to the wrong person, and grind on the dancefloor until I collapsed. A terrifying thought.

But my friend group at the time were experimenting with recreational drugs, in what I considered a healthy way. So I got curious. 

As someone with pretty intense social anxiety, I decided to try MDMA for the first time with my best friend. I didn’t want to risk making a monkey of myself in front of a crowd. We strung up fair lights, made soup, took magnesium to ward off the muscle cramps MDMA is known for, made a playlist, and settled in.

Curled up under a pile of fluffy blankets on a sofa, I waited for the high to kick in. 

The first thing I noticed was how different textures suddenly felt. I found myself absentmindedly rubbing the side of the sofa, then comparing it to the carpet under my feet, fascinated in a way I’m sure only babies experience. Then the euphoria hit. A wave of joy and total absence of fear. It felt like I could finally see my emotional world in three dimensions. 

My best friend and I talked for hours. We giggled nonstop, got introspective, and wandered around each other’s subconscious. 

And just like that, I got it. I understood why everyone raved about this drug; it was amazing! But one thing still confused me: why didn't I want to dance?

A few more MDMA trips under my belt, and the dance thing wouldn’t leave my mind. Was I just lazy? Why didn’t I want to jump onto the dancefloor and hoon around the moment I started coming up on my trip? All I felt like doing during the euphoric high of class A drugs was wrapping myself in a soft blanket and having a Deep & Meaningful™. I didn’t enjoy strobe lights or loud bass. I wasn’t exactly known for loving crowds or loud music before, but I thought maybe MDMA would fix that. Was I doing E wrong? 

While high, I felt the expected surface-level euphoria, pure serotonin bliss. For my ADHD brain, which already struggles with dopamine regulation, it was a welcome flood of happy chemicals. I craved stimulation, became hyper-aware of boredom, and needed constant engagement. Socially, it was like someone had turned off the fear switch: instead of lurking in a corner waiting to be approached, I found myself confidently starting conversations.

And yet, despite all this, I still didn't want to rave, which was, honestly, a bit disappointing. It’s akin to my dislike of seafood, which I’ve always been a bit miffed about, because people who love seafood seem to really really enjoy it, and I feel like I’m missing out. I wanted to know what it was like to enjoy a rave.

It wasn’t until a year later that it clicked: I’m autistic. Not only that, but MDMA had acted like a temporary balm for the parts of autism I find most challenging. When I looked at the drugs' desired effects side by side with common autistic traits, the overlap was glaring.

My Autistic Struggles	MDMA Desired Effects
Difficulty with social interaction e.g. small talk, reading cues	Ease in socialisingmore relaxed, talkative, confident
Emotional masking or suppression	Emotional openness able to express feelings freely
Struggles with eye contact or physical affection	Comfort with eye contact, touch, and closeness
Alexithymia difficulty identifying or describing emotions	Emotional clarity sudden understanding of feelings
Sensitivity to rejection or judgment	Reduced fear and social anxiety more self-acceptance
Feeling disconnected or misunderstood	Deep sense of connection  and empathy with others
Sensory sensitivities  (e.g. to sound, touch)	Enhanced sensory pleasure  (e.g. music, soft textures, light)
Need for control or predictability	Ability to go with the flow feel spontaneous and flexible
Difficulty trusting or bonding with others	Increased trust and intimacy even with strangers

Before I continue, I want to stress here that I am NOT in any way, shape, or form promoting the use of MDMA as a medication for autism. MDMA is illegal, punishable by fines or up to three months' imprisonment. MDMA is a powerful psychoactive substance with serious risks, especially if used regularly. Frequent use can lead to long-term mood issues, memory problems, and emotional dependence, and may cause lasting changes to the brain’s serotonin system. At high dosages, or when paired with other substances, it can be lethal. It’s not a safe or sustainable tool for managing neurodivergent traits. 

Getting that out of the way, I’m not a party pooper (most of the time). If you are interested in experimenting with MDMA, do your research. Weigh your drugs so you know exactly how much you’ve taken. Get your drugs tested! If you go to www.knowyourstuff.nz you can find all the information you need for getting your drugs tested legally so that you know exactly what you’re putting in your body. 

Back to the scheduled programming. 

When I made the connection between autism and MDMA, it was a game-changer for my self-perception. Where I previously thought of myself as socially inept and somehow contributing to my own failures by not trying hard enough, it became clear to me that neurotypical people take emotional fluency for granted. 

In the months that followed my last trip (several years ago now), I couldn't stop thinking about the version of myself that emerged on MDMA. She was unafraid, emotionally fluent, and felt deeply connected to others, while also being firm with her boundaries. All these things made me realise how much I suppress on a daily basis just to function. When the shackles of social anxiety were lifted from me, it didn’t turn me into someone else. It just made me feel safe enough to just be me. 

I wouldn’t, and couldn’t, use MDMA as an antidote to my autistic struggles. This drug can’t make me someone I’m not; it just made it easier to be who I already am: an autistic person who craves connection but dislikes loud music and unpredictable crowds. E didn’t switch off my autism; it simply lowered the barriers that usually make socialising feel like an uphill battle. 

So it turns out, even with my serotonin receptors wide open and my heart cracked like a glowstick, I still just want to sit down, cup of tea in hand, and have a fat chat with someone I love.