Unwrapping Christmas for an autism friendly festive season
Wondering how to make Christmas more inclusive for your loved one? Let’s unwrap ideas for a more thoughtful December.
Christmas is a season of joy, tradition, and togetherness – or so we’re told. But for many autistic people and their loved ones, it can feel like stepping into a sensory and social minefield disguised as a winter wonderland.
The flashing lights, the unpredictable changes in routine, and the pressure to smile through it all can turn a time that’s meant to be magical into something closer to exhausting.
The reality is that, for many of us, a mix of change and uncertainty can be a recipe for anxiety. Toss in a dry turkey, and you’ve got all the ingredients for Christmas to feel less like a celebration and more like a challenge.
In this part of the world, things change in December whether you're an adult or a child. For children there's exams to sit through and a change to the regular school schedule, whilst adults suddenly have a deluge of party invites to think about. Masking, anyone?
Christmas Day in particular can be one of the most challenging of the year. It's worth noting that, autistic or not, everyone is individual and one person's idea of festive fun may be another person's idea of a season-long scream into a pillow.
With that in mind, here are some common holiday scenarios that can either brighten the season or add to the challenges.
The gift of uncertainty
Every wrapped present under the tree is like Schrödinger's famous thought experiment – you know, the one where a cat in a box is theoretically both alive and dead until someone opens it up. Each gift sits there in a similar state of uncertainty. Until the paper comes off, it's simultaneously the perfect present and the nightmare gift society tells us we should pretend to love.
The challenge isn't just about what's inside, it's the whole performance around presents. Having to open gifts while everyone watches, like some festive version of Britain's Got Talent, except the judges are your family members and the only talent being assessed is your ability to match your face to what society expects to see.
Quiet time isn't antisocial, it's essential
Christmas Day can feel like being trapped in a game show where the volume keeps getting cranked up and there's no pause button, it's sensory overload central.
Trying to explain that you need some time alone on Christmas Day can be about as welcome as accidentally putting on Bad Santa instead of Home Alone for a room full of five year olds.
It's easy for people to think you're being antisocial and it's not that we don't want to be part of the fun, we just need regular breaks from being in the middle of what feels like the world's longest episode of a family sitcom.
Having some time alone or in a quiet room isn't being rude; it's being realistic about what we need to make it through the day without completely burning out. It could be the difference between enjoying Christmas and enduring it like you're trapped in an endless loop of Mariah Carey's All I Want for Christmas played at triple speed.
Turkey, textures and the trouble with festive feasts
Christmas dinner is the enemy. For most people, that statement probably sounds ridiculous – after all, who doesn't love a massive plate of festive food? But when you're autistic, what others see as a beautiful spread of traditional dishes can look more like a horror show of textures and tastes conspiring against you.
Take turkey, the Russian roulette of birds. It could be fine, or it could have all the love and tenderness of a damp brick.
The combination of unfamiliar dishes with different textures can be especially challenging. Christmas dinner is an event whose battlecry should be a multi-sensory onslaught.
Even the social aspect of Christmas dinner – the expectation to sit for a long time, make small talk, and participate in traditions like wearing paper crowns – can be stressful and mentally draining.
Inclusivity starts with listening
The Christmas season and the big day itself can be overwhelming. Ask what your loved one likes and loathes about December 25th and remember that we'll definitely need some time on our own at some point.
This isn't rudeness or a lack of holiday spirit... it's a necessary coping strategy to manage the intense sensory and social demands of a day that often requires Olympic-level masking. By understanding and accommodating our needs, you can help create an inclusive Christmas that allows everyone to participate in a way that works for them.