The holidays, autism, and YOU 🫵🏽

More often than not, the holiday season feels like a battleground to me. For others, it's a whirlwind of joy, together, indulgence, sunshine and rainbows. For autists — women, especially — it can be a minefield of stress, sensory overload, and scrambling to get your needs met. Everyone experiences stress from the holiday season, but the added layer of potentially being the only neurodivergent person in the room for the entire event makes it even more daunting.

If you’ve ever wondered exactly why the holidays have become such a reliable shitshow in your life, read on.

So what makes the holiday season a headache for autistic women?

Festivities are overstimulating as hell

The holidays are loud. Clanging dishes, endlessly looping Christmas music, the crinkling and ripping of wrapping paper, and the hum of a crowded home can be enough to set off a sensory overload. When my brother invited me to his house for Thanksgiving after over a decade apart, we almost immediately got into a fight at the dinner table, but it was the loud banging of dishes in the dish that set me off in the end, turning a frustrating argument into a stage-five canon event. Even small things like bright holiday lights or unexpected noises (babies! pets! Runny-noised aunties!) can push us over the edge, especially when the environment is already chaotic.

Overwhelming demands

The holidays come with an endless to-do list, much of which is unfairly distributed along gender lines. I can’t remember the last time I went to my family’s home, or a friend’s for that matter, and saw a cisgender man helping out in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess, decorating the home or mediating between family members at each other’s throats.

Not to mention some autists — myself included — struggled with demand avoidance, the debilitating urge to avoid anything that so much as breathes the same as one more threat against your already compromised autonomy. The world is crammed full of demands. Going to work, doing your job, managing your relationships…hell, even getting out of bed in the morning can be perceived as a demand, especially during the winter months when seasonal depression is that much more of a risk. Top that exhaustion off with the rapid-fire demands of a Thanksgiving dinner and this expectation can feel insurmountable.

It’s a recipe for burnout, especially when societal pressures tell us to grin and bear it.

Pressure to socialize (in a highly specific way)

I’m happy to report that I’ve never caroled in my life, but there’s no shortage of traditions vying to dominate holiday gatherings anyway. As much as I love celebrations with my found family, they are DRAINING. My day job is in communications, and I pride myself on my ability to keep up with multiple conversations happening within earshot without losing my mind. But the moment I get home, I completely fall apart, crash into bed exhausted, and practically have to whip myself to get back on my feet in the morning. Struggling to keep up with rapid conversations can lead to feeling isolated, even in a crowded room.

Knocking myself out with chats on purpose is…my own choice, if a masochistic one. But no one should have to always be “on” — cheerful, chatty, and present — and forcing yourself into that mode for too longer can make it hard to show up the party authentically.

Unwritten social rules and expectations

For some autists, any social gathering is a potential minefield. Most of us struggle to pick up the “rules of engagement” in any social setting. I survived 29 years on this earth before learning that rehearsing “how are yous” and planning half a dozen witty retorts in advance isn’t normal behavior. (And if you learned that just now from me, congratulations!)

I do pretty well for myself in one-on-one hangouts and in large groups, but put me in a medium-sized group — a house party, pregaming before meeting a larger group, or say, Thanksgiving dinners — and I could set a timer to the exact minute a meltdown is imminent. My scripts will fail me. Too many people to stick to one emotional support human, not enough to dilute the attention of strangers asking me questions I haven’t prepared a script for, leading me to trip and stutter, accidentally go monotone, and let cracks in the mask pile up until I’m a hyperactive mess and everybody thinks I’m tweaking.

Does everybody think I’m tweaking? Probably not, but that doesn’t matter, because my brain had decided I’m not safe, and I need my mask like a security blanket, and the mask is about to fall off, and this is a code red and I need to go home RIGHT NOW. Sound familiar?

Executive functioning fucking defenestrates

Executive function? We don’t know her. The work of keeping the mask intact while keeping track of every conversation in the room (and maybe also having an escape route within eyeshot at all times, if you’re the anxious type) doesn’t leave much brainspace for the basic demands allistics handle without a second thought.

I was once invited to a Friendsgiving dinner where I spent two hours making a dish to share, carefully packing it, and taking an Uber to the house, only to completely forget to eat anything because I was so instantly overwhelmed by everyone in the room. I felt such immense pressure to be “on” that by the time I made it home, my stomach was empty, my bladder was full (from drinking incessantly to ease my anxiety), I’d forgotten the names of everyone I’d met (except the dogs’), and I felt a vague sense of existential dread that sucked all the joy out of the seemingly “fun” evening I’d just had.

The logistics of the holidays — shopping for gifts, cooking elaborate meals, traveling to visit family — can pose significant challenges for autistic people who struggle with executive functioning. Tasks requiring planning, organization, and time management may quickly become overwhelming, especially if procrastination or decision paralysis sets in.

Holiday stress anti-burnout strategies for autistic women

I don’t have answers or solutions; I’m not a mental health professional (yet). But I do have a small lil toolbox of tactics to help me survive the season and show up to the holidays with more self-compassion, which is crucial if you don’t want to end up burnt out through the new year. Here are some tips that’ve worked for me over the years:

• Set boundaries early: Communicate your needs and limits to friends and family. Whether it’s declining invitations or setting time limits for gatherings, protecting your energy is vital.
• Prioritize sensory comfort whenever you can: Bring noise-canceling headphones, sunglasses, or weighted blankets to events. If possible, identify quiet spaces where you can decompress when necessary.
• Simplify tasks: Reduce holiday-related tasks to what feels manageable. Use online shopping, delegate responsibilities, or even skip traditions that feel burdensome.
• Find your people: Reach out to friends, therapists, or online communities for emotional support. Sometimes, just sharing your experiences with someone who understands can be grounding.
• Redefine the holidays: Focus on what the season means to you, independent of societal expectations. Whether it’s enjoying solo time with a favorite book, crafting gifts, or indulging in sensory-friendly decorations, crafting your own traditions can be liberating.