Learning from Christmases Past

The ghost of my Christmases past

tis the season
of noisy family gatherings
people sitting in my chair
more children
making more mess
too many conversations at once

the tv is on too
the cooker
the clinking glasses
the sensory overwhelm
by the masses

sense of injustice
pushed to its limits
listen to stories
that make you wince
you try all you can
to keep your mouth shut
but the heating is so high
it could boil your nan

why is it so hot in here
can’t hear what you’re saying to me
someone has done a stuffing fart
and there’s too many of us
squished on the sofa

it feels claustrophobic
no room anywhere else
because the table is extended
smile through gritted teeth
don’t want to be the bah humbug 

but you can’t breathe

Reflecting on Christmases Past

Three years ago I started a journal after my official autism diagnosis at the ripe old age of forty. My journal evolved into a healing hyper-focus that became my first book Mess is Progress. The clarity of why Christmas was such a challenging time for me was coming into full focus. The ghost of my Christmases past was written from that revelation, the above is a tweaked version (autistic creatives looking at past work will understand!) of the one in the book. 

When my oldest daughter was a pre-schooler, I remember her really struggling with Christmas too. At the time she was the youngest of the grandchildren and the first granddaughter in the family. After being handed another wrapped gift with all eyes on her she just totally crumbled. She was diagnosed as autistic over a decade later. I remember thinking at the time, this is too much for her, we need to change how we do Christmas. From then on we had a quiet Christmas day at home with just the four of us. Some years we would have guests but not the entire tribe. I have three sisters myself, all with their own children, so going to my parents with all of us together was not the environment for us.

Unaware that we were in fact a very neurodivergent family, we were happy in our bubble of doing Christmas in a way that suited us. Living nearby to everyone meant short visits. We were unknowingly accommodating our needs. Then in 2017 we moved, not just house but full on relocation to the South West. One hundred and seventy odd miles away from everyone. Christmas had completely changed. I felt invaded by visitors and so utterly confused because I had missed them. Why did simply having people in my home feel like such a gargantuan mission? There were no short visits for a seven hour round trip. It was either being away from the safety of my own home or having people stay for multiple days in my safe space. Playing at the host whilst someone sat in my spot on the sofa, expectations of food that none of my family eat, expectations of my children to sit still at the table, feeling rude for needing some time to myself. Masking to breaking point.

Unsurprisingly by the time our third Christmas was rolling around my nervous system was monumentally triggered. I couldn’t understand why I was finding it so difficult. Which landed me on the conclusion; I was just a horrible person. Christmas Day of 2019, I locked myself in the bathroom and silently sobbed in the bath. Intrusive thoughts a-go-go. None of which I would act on but it didn’t stop my brain going there. Imagining the ruining of Christmas forever being my parting gift to all my loved ones. No, I just had to cry it all out and crack on. The following year the world stopped. Lockdown. I’m not ashamed to admit relief coursed through my entire body when we had no choice but to have a smaller, quieter Christmas.

By 2021, we had just started on the pathway for my oldest daughter’s autism assessment and having gone full deep-dive research into how autistic women and girls often present differently, I too was starting to explore my own possible neurodivergent brain. Another quiet festive period and infinitely less stress ensued. The following year we were on a roll and really figuring out what we need. Two autism diagnoses later and expectations have changed dramatically. I no longer hated myself for being unable to Christmas like a neurotypical. We have socialisation breaks without judgement and noise cancelling headphones for everyone. A routine, a system that works and is pretty much our own little family’s festive tradition.

My Christmas Present

This year we have three autism diagnoses, myself and both my daughters, plus ADHD for me and my youngest, and my son (who lives with his girlfriend) has attempted the ADHD assessment pathway. We always have him home for Christmas and even he has noticed the difference in the reduction of expectations. Sure you can go chill out on your own for a bit, if that's what you need to do. No judgement.

After a series of calmer yule tides, this year we’re doing something different and I’m actually excited! My son and his girlfriend are hosting us for Christmas lunch. The key here is that we’ve recently bought a motorhome. I’ve got my safe space on wheels! Here’s hoping that my plans of little visits to family with our own space to retreat back to will make it a wonderful Christmas adventure.

If you are interested in reading ‘Mess is Progress’ by Hannah Walker, please follow our amazon affiliate link above or here. This means we take a small amount of the proceeds from a sale, which we use to further our training on neurodiversity, to keep our blog running, and to create free resources, like posters, for those who need them.