Christmas, Autism, and what we have learned over the years

Christmas is hard for George.

Not just Christmas Day, but Christmas as a concept.

His anxiety starts climbing as soon as Halloween passes. Decorations appear in shops, routines begin to shift, people talk about “what’s coming”, and his world slowly fills with uncertainty. By the time December arrives, he’s already been holding it together for weeks.

It wasn’t always survivable.

Six or seven years ago, Christmas broke us. We were exhausted, frightened, and desperate for help. We begged CAMHS to intervene, and that was when we finally met George’s psychiatrist and medication became part of his life. Not as a fix, not as a magic switch, but as a way of lowering the background noise enough for anything else to work.

Progress came slowly.

About four years ago was the first time George could face Christmas Day and open presents with his family. Before that, he hid away completely.

Two years ago was the first time we were able to sit together and eat Christmas lunch.

Those moments did not arrive suddenly. They were built, year by year, by learning what helps George feel safe, and accepting that Christmas for us would never look like Christmas for everyone else.

This isn’t a guide. Every autistic child is different. What works for George may do absolutely nothing for someone else. But these are the adjustments we have learned make Christmas possible in our house.

Christmas morning happens on George’s terms

Christmas morning is not a schedule we impose. It’s one we ask George about.

What would you like to do first?

Presents now, or later?

Sit with us, or go somewhere quieter?

That sense of control matters. Even small choices reduce anxiety, because they turn the day from something happening tohim into something he is part of.

Presents in gift bags, not wrapping paper

This year we gave George presents unwrapped in gift bags. They reduced the stress, slowed everything down, and removed the pressure to perform excitement. They also help pace the morning. Nothing is frantic, nothing needs to be ripped open, and nothing escalates too quickly.

Food everywhere, on purpose

Christmas Eve for us is a buffet. Bits and pieces, picky food, lots of it. Crucially, with leftovers planned.

Those leftovers come straight back out on Christmas morning, alongside a wide choice of drinks and a Bucks Fizz for the grown-ups. Having options available seems to stop George fixating on any one thing, including presents.

There’s also an unspoken rule that everyone keeps it calm. No sudden excitement, no raised voices, no big reactions. Mostly just… not going nuts.

We always have Christmas music on too. George finds music calming, and that familiar background helps anchor the day.

Lunch looks like many things at once

We’re a mixed-nationality family, so Christmas lunch is already a blend. I cook a traditional English Christmas dinner, and also a German one, which would normally be eaten on Christmas Eve.

For George though, I also prepare his normal lunch. Right now, that’s chicken, grated cheese, and pitta bread. He won’t eat it. But it still sits on the table.

We discovered this not long ago, almost by accident, and it made a huge difference. Its presence is immensely calming. It tells George that nothing has been taken away, that he isn’t missing out, that his food still exists alongside everyone else’s.

Fear of missing out is a massive trigger for him, so abundance matters. We make a lot of food. Especially the things he loves.

This year I made sausages wrapped in bacon. Three people were eating them. I made 124.

That choice came with a cost. Literally. To afford quantity, we had to choose cheaper meat. As someone who loves good food and takes pride in cooking, that hurt.

But the alternative would have been George trying to take all of it, becoming distressed if stopped, and the situation escalating until dinner was ruined for everyone. Nothing was wasted anyway. Everyone had another plate later, and I made a genuinely excellent Christmas pie on Boxing Day.

Ending Christmas early

As much as we would love to keep decorations up, they come down on the 27th.

It’s important that George sees his world return to normal. Once the decorations are gone, he can finally start to relax. Christmas ends, and the long period of heightened anxiety is allowed to close.

The bit we still haven’t solved

Despite substantial prescribed medication, George does not sleep well in the lead-up to Christmas. Over the last two weeks I have averaged about four hours a night

It is physically and emotionally exhausting.

This is the part we are still learning about. If you’ve found something that genuinely helps, I would love to hear it.

Christmas for us is quieter, slower, and very carefully shaped. It doesn’t look like the version on television, but it’s ours. And each year, in small ways, it gets a little more manageable.

And that’s enough.

Edit: I posted this yesterday on the 27th, the day the decorations came down. Just wanted to add that last night George slept for 12 hours. This is literally a once a year thing, the post Christmas sleep. He won’t sleep more than 8 again until next year. Most (non-Christmas) nights we are looking at 5 - 6 hours.