Christmas: a season of bright lights, endless carols, chaotic parties, and school events piled on top of each other. Not to mention the mountain of noisy toys gifted by well-meaning relatives. While festive for many, Christmas was never designed for those of us who find everyday life overwhelming enough as it is. For neurodivergent folk like me, the holidays often feel like sensory overload wrapped in tinsel.
And yet, I’ve always loved Christmas. As a child, it was my absolute favourite time of year. Only recently did I realise why: my parents, without knowing it, crafted an autism-friendly Christmas tradition that met my sensory needs perfectly.
The “Difficult” Child
I was what people called a “sensitive” child, often labelled “overly emotional” or “difficult.” Trips to visit family were inevitably accompanied by tears over the food, the noise, or simply the longing to go home and hide in my safe place. I desperately wanted to see my loved ones—I adored them—but I struggled to cope outside my home, especially at mealtimes. I was often presented with familiar meals, but they weren’t made to the same recipe I was accustomed to. This caused me to become fearful of the unpredictibility of food at gatherings. It was an unknown, and that filled me with enough anxiety to make me throw up. Other people are just noisy, all the chatting, my great-nan with the telly on volume 100 and shrieking about how many roast potatoes she needed. All of this made me want to retreat to my room and escape, but I couldn’t. I was trapped in this circus of people I loved and just had to tolerate it as best I could, until it was time to go home.
My parents tried their best to work around my outbursts, but they didn’t know I was autistic. Back then, sensory issues weren’t widely understood. They didn’t have a name for why I struggled so much or a guide on how to help me enjoy the holidays. They just did what most parents do: muddle through and hope for the best.
One Christmas, Mum Had Enough
One year, when I was around seven, my mum decided she was done with the tears, tantrums, and turmoil of a “traditional” Christmas. The endless car journeys between family homes with two overtired, grumpy kids? The stress of forcing us to sit through Christmas dinner when I couldn’t bear the noise and smells? It wasn’t worth it anymore.
She announced a new plan: Christmas Day would now be spent at home with just the four of us. No big gatherings. No turkey dinner with all the trimmings. Instead, everyone got to pick their favourite meal for Christmas dinner.
This decision did not go down well with the extended family. There were grumbles, guilt trips, and attempts to persuade Mum to change her mind. But she stood firm. For the first time, Christmas would be a day designed to make us happy, not everyone else.
Little me couldn’t have been more thrilled. No more exhausting car journeys. No more trying to look excited over gifts I didn’t understand the point of. And I got to eat mac and cheese for Christmas dinner!
The Best Christmas Ever
That year, Christmas Day felt like magic. We stayed in our pyjamas all day with zero demands placed on us. We played games, watched movies, and retreated for alone time when we needed it. Dinner was a collection of freezer favourites and pasta, each plate customised to the eater’s preferences.
For the first time, there were no tears, no meltdowns, and no frazzled parents. Just a happy family enjoying the day at their own pace.
That Christmas became the blueprint for all the ones that followed. It was our new family tradition, and we never looked back.
Realising How Lucky I Was
As I grew older, I started hearing how other families spent Christmas. People stressed about cooking for 15 guests, hosting relatives they didn’t even like, and managing the chaos of sugar-fuelled kids tearing around the house with their new toys. I was appalled.
Christmas, for me, was a day to relax in pyjamas, eat delicious food, and do absolutely nothing if I didn’t want to. It was a day of comfort and joy in the truest sense.
Over the years, I tried to adapt to other people’s Christmas traditions. Boyfriends would invite me to spend the day with their families, and I would agree, thinking it would be fine. It wasn’t. Each time, I ended up hiding in a quiet room for a cry, overwhelmed by the noise, social demands, and general chaos.
Carrying the Tradition Forward
When I met my husband, I was relieved to find someone who shared my love of a quiet Christmas. He loved the idea of staying home in pyjamas, eating comfort food, and keeping things low-key.
When we had kids, we decided to carry on the tradition. While our boys bring a bit more energy to the day, we stick to our core rule: Christmas Day is spent at home, just the four of us. We don’t do big gatherings, and we don’t stress about making everything “perfect.”
For us, Christmas is a day to recharge, enjoy each other’s company, and create happy memories.
Why It Matters
It can be so hard to let go of societal expectations around Christmas. There’s enormous pressure to make the holidays look a certain way: big family gatherings, elaborate meals, perfectly decorated houses. It’s easy to feel like you’re failing if you don’t check all those boxes.
But at the end of the day, Christmas should be about what makes you and your family happy. If that means eating takeaway pizza, spending the day in your pyjamas, or skipping the extended family dinner, so be it.
For neurodivergent people, the holidays can be particularly challenging. The noise, the crowds, the lack of routine—it’s a sensory nightmare. By creating a tradition that prioritised my comfort and happiness, my parents gave me a gift I’m forever grateful for: the chance to truly enjoy Christmas.
Make It Yours
If you’re struggling to balance everyone’s expectations over the holidays, take a step back and think about what you want Christmas to look like. What makes you and your household happy?
For us, that means comfort food, quiet games, and no pressure to entertain anyone outside our little family. It’s not conventional, but it works.
Other people might not like it, but they’ll get over it. And you might just find that by claiming the festive period for yourself, you create a tradition that the next generation will cherish.
Because sometimes, the best holiday traditions are the ones that happen by accident.
Have you made any accomodations for yourself or the ones you love for Christmas? I’d love to hear about it in the comments.
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