Autistic Joy: Reclaiming the Holidays as an Autistic Adult

About the Author

Jay Eveson-Egler, (they/them) is an Autistic self-advocate and parent. They’ve worked with neurodiversity-based organizations and individuals in a variety of age groups and stages of life. They have a depth of knowledge of LGBTQIA2S+ issues in the Autistic community. They have prior experience founding and facilitating neurodiverse peer support groups and remain active as an advisor with the Neurodiverse Students Association at Mount Holyoke.

Every year, the conversation around Autistic people and the holidays seems to follow the same pattern. The message is usually some variation of preparing for chaos, bracing for sensory overload, and relying on a long list of coping tools to make it through the season. Earplugs, weighted blankets, social stories, travel kits, neutral-colored clothing, scripts for opening presents, and reminders to “take breaks.” These things are helpful, but when the entire narrative is about coping, the holidays start to feel like something we are supposed to survive rather than enjoy.

What gets lost in that narrative is the idea of Autistic Joy: the joy that comes from comfort, predictability, sensory warmth, connection, and the familiar things that make this time of year meaningful. When we only talk about accommodations, we miss the opportunity to ask a different question. Instead of asking how an Autistic person is going to get through the holidays, we could ask what will make the holidays feel good for them in the first place.

In my household, we have four Neurodivergent adults and one Neurodivergent three-year-old who never stops moving. Our holiday routines are a combination of all of our histories. We put up decorations on Black Friday because that is what my wife grew up with. We cook the German foods I grew up eating, like Knödel, red kraut, sauerbraten, and rouladen. Another partner brought the tradition of placing a small present in a boot with the story that an elf accidentally left something in Santa’s boot and it needs to be put back out for him to pick up. The last tradition involves cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning because that is what yet another branch of our family always had.

These traditions do not match. They do not follow a theme. They do not look like an advertisement or a commercial. They simply feel right to us, and bring us joy. If a specific tradition doesn’t feel right for any one of us, we are also never obligated to take part and can simply enjoy our own peace. And that is the entire point.

We also spend time with extended family every year. Sometimes this means traveling to Vermont or New Hampshire. Sometimes it means walking around the corner here in Massachusetts. There is usually at least one large meal with relatives. For a long time, I worried about how all of us were supposed to handle the noise, the expectations, and the social pressure. But over time I realized that what helps us the most is not a complicated plan. It is building the holiday around the things and traditions that bring us comfort.

This includes soft lighting instead of bright overhead lamps. It includes having a quiet room available in every house we visit. It includes predictable food we already know we like. It includes watching movies we have seen a hundred times because the familiarity is grounding. It includes receiving gifts without someone staring at us and waiting for a certain reaction. It includes warm drinks, comfortable clothing, and weighted blankets. It includes letting each person step away without having to explain themselves. When we aren’t hosting, it involves collaboration with those who are and a little bit of self-advocacy. These things are small, but they create an environment where we do not have to fight our own brains the entire time. 

Autistic Joy does not mean pretending the holidays are perfect. Meltdowns can still happen. Sensory overload can still happen. Travel can still be disruptive. The point is not to eliminate the challenges, but to give ourselves permission to shape the holiday into something that fits us rather than forcing ourselves to fit the holiday.

For many Autistic people, the most overwhelming parts of the season are not the traditions themselves. They are the expectations attached to them. Expectations to hug relatives. Expectations to sit still during long meals. Expectations to perform excitement in a socially acceptable way when opening a present. Expectations to engage in small talk. Expectations to remain calm in loud, crowded spaces. None of this aligns with the way our nervous systems work, and the pressure to get it “right” often creates more stress than the environment itself. When we remove those expectations, we make room for genuine enjoyment. 

The holidays do not need to follow a script to count as “real holidays.” You can create new traditions at any time. You can decide that your family’s holiday meal will be breakfast instead of dinner. You can celebrate in pajamas. You can stay home. You can watch the same movie every year instead of trying something new. You can build a holiday that feels right for the people who are actually in your household rather than the imaginary audience we often feel pressured to perform for. Building your family’s sensory, social, and communication needs into family traditions helps them become a source of joy, rather than a singled out accommodation. 

Autistic Joy is about paying attention to what feels supportive and letting that guide the rest. It is a reminder that Autistic people deserve more than coping strategies and survival. We deserve opportunities to experience comfort, connection, and delight during a season that was always meant to be about those things. We deserve holidays that work with our neurotypes, not against them.

If your holidays have never felt joyful before, it is not too late to rebuild them. It is not too late to take inventory of what feels good and what does not. It is not too late to choose the parts of the season you want to keep and let go of the rest. The holidays do not have to be a performance. They do not have to be something you endure. They can be something you create and something you reclaim.

Autistic Joy is not complicated. It is simply the willingness to notice what brings us happiness and let that be enough.