A neurodivergent guide to Christmas - permission to do it your way

This photo still makes me smile.
Tiny humans. Santa. Big feelings.
And yes, a front-page moment we didn’t exactly plan for.

What I remember just as clearly though, is everything around it:
keeping everyone regulated,
managing expectations,
navigating noise, crowds and family and friend dynamics and trying to hold onto the nice bits without losing myself in the process,
my exhaustion.

Christmas has always been layered like that for me, joyful and overwhelming in the same breath.

So this blog is an offering. A reminder. And a gentle laugh of recognition.
If Christmas feels beautiful and brutal on your nervous system, you’re not alone and you’re absolutely allowed to do it differently.

Christmas: the only time of year where you’re expected to enjoy: crowds, noise, disrupted routines, emotional landmines, forced joy and a grown adult dressed as Santa invading your personal space, all at once.

That magical time of year when the house smells like pine and panic, someone’s already annoyed before breakfast, the family WhatsApp has become a live-action stress documentary and everyone is pretending this is relaxing.

This is your full-permission guide to Christmasing your way.

If you’re neurodivergent, Christmas isn’t just a season.

It’s a full-body, multi-sensory endurance event.

More noise.
More lights.
More people.
More expectations.
More sudden changes to routine.
More emotional history per square metre than at any other time of year.

And somehow, you’re still expected to be festive about it.

So this is your official, written-in-soft-ink permission slip:

You do not have to Christmas like everyone else.

First things first

If your nervous system feels fried by mid-December, nothing has gone wrong. You are responding exactly as designed to:

• unpredictable schedules
• social intensity
• sensory overload
• increased masking
• emotional undercurrents (family dynamics count as cardio)

This isn’t lack of gratitude.
It’s neurology.

Christmas isn’t one thing

Some people love it.
Some tolerate it.
Some dread it.
Some oscillate hourly.

All of those responses are valid.

You don’t owe anyone:

• maximum cheer
• full attendance
• late nights
• eye contact marathons
• “just pop in” plans
• overstimulation with a smile

Full permission to:

• leave early (or not arrive at all)
• take breaks without explaining yourself
• sit in a quiet room with the lights low
• wear sensory-safe clothes, even if they’re not festive
• eat what you can tolerate
• skip traditions that drain you
• create new ones that don’t

You are not “ruining Christmas”.
You are regulating a nervous system.

A few ND-friendly Christmas strategies (take or leave)

• Pre-agree your exit
  “We’ll come for two hours.”
  Then leave at two hours. No renegotiation required.

• Build a landing pad
  Plan decompression after social time: quiet, darkness, familiar comfort.

• Reduce decision load
  Fewer outfits. Fewer plans. Fewer “maybes”.

• Name your needs simply
  “I need a bit of quiet.”
  “I’m stepping out.”
  “I’ll join later.”
  You don’t need a thesis.

• Treat rest as part of the plan
  Not a reward. Not a failure.
  Part of the schedule.

If Christmas brings grief, complexity or mixed emotions

You’re not doing it wrong.

For many ND people, this season stirs:

• old family roles
• unmet needs
• memories of masking
• loss, absence or change

You’re allowed to hold joy and sadness.
You’re allowed to opt out of forced positivity.
You’re allowed to protect your inner world.

A reframe that matters

You are not “too sensitive for Christmas”.

Christmas is loud, bright, emotionally charged and socially intense.

Your nervous system is responding intelligently.

This is your reminder

You don’t have to earn rest.
You don’t have to justify boundaries.
You don’t have to perform joy to be worthy of love.

You are allowed a softer Christmas.
A quieter one.
A shorter one.
A different one.

And if your version of Christmas includes:

• early nights
• long walks
• low lights
• one safe person
• or none at all

That still counts.

From all of us at 🟠 the neurovision group —
May your Christmas be regulated, gentle and unapologetically yours.

And if you need somewhere to exhale, you know where we are.

Blurry pic of when my two met Aussie Santa, he arrived at the beach in a helicopter - as you do.