Festivus for the Rest of Us: Neurodivergent Holiday Survival Guide
A shame-free guide with sensory supports, social boundaries, and physical accommodations.
I don’t think it’s an understatement to say that the holidays are a lot.
Some people love the holidays. They’re cozy and nostalgic. They wait all year for the chance to hear Mariah sing about what she wants for Christmas… and then there’s me. I don’t “love the holidays.” I tolerate them. Barely.
For neurodivergent folks, like me, the holidays can be way too bright, loud, crowded, unpredictable… not to mention emotionally loaded. The kicker? Sometimes it’s all of those things at once. The Airing of Grievances—plus the lights, the sounds of Santa, his sleigh, and the urgency—can create instant nervous system turmoil.
What’s further complicated is the added impact of trauma history (which many neurodivergent people carry, often from years of misunderstanding, masking, or outright harm). The season isn’t just “stressful.”
- Holidays can be sensory + social overload.
- Trauma and anniversaries can make reactions feel “out of nowhere.”
- Accommodations aren’t extra — they’re access.
1) The sensory reality: “Festive” is overstimulating
Holiday environments stack inputs like they’re trying to win a contest:
- overlapping conversations
- music + TV + kitchen noise
- bright lights, candles, flashing décor
- strong scents (perfume, pine, food, smoke)
- scratchy clothing, uncomfortable shoes
- unpredictable food textures
- being touched more than usual
For neurodivergent brains and bodies, that can trigger overwhelm fast. Not because you’re “too sensitive,” but because your system processes input differently—and often more intensely.
Sensory accommodations (aka: the permission slip list)
Pick what helps:
- Ear protection: Loop-style earplugs, noise-canceling headphones, or one earbud in.
- Light control: sit away from harsh lighting; step into a dim room; volunteer for a calmer task like “kitchen helper.”
- Scent buffer: a scarf/mask, or a subtle familiar scent you can anchor to.
- Texture-first clothing: wear the soft thing. Repeat outfits. Comfort is not a moral failure.
- Safe food plan: bring one reliable dish/snack so you’re not trapped in texture roulette.
- Micro-exits: bathroom reset, step outside, sit in the car for 5 minutes.
Simple script:
2) The social reality: masking is expensive
Holidays come with social rules that often weren’t written by or for neurodivergent people:
- long stretches of small talk
- forced proximity
- last-minute plan changes
- people asking personal questions in public
- pressure to perform gratitude/cheer/connection on demand
- “Why are you so quiet?” / “Come on, loosen up!” comments
If you mask, the holidays can feel like working a second job with no breaks.
Social accommodations (aka: boundaries that protect your brain)
- Arrive later, leave earlier. Shorter exposure is a valid strategy.
- Bring a buffer person. One safe person can change the whole event.
- Give yourself a role. “Dish person,” “photo person,” “tea person,” “kid-wrangler.” Roles reduce ambiguity.
- Use a signal system. Emoji/text with a partner/friend: 🌀 = “I need a break.”
- Pre-decide your “no’s.” Decision-making is harder mid-overwhelm.
Boundary scripts (choose your flavor)
- Warm: “I’m glad to be here—I’m pacing myself this year.”
- Direct: “I’m not discussing that topic today.”
- Minimal: “No thanks.”
- Protective: “I’m going to step away now.”
3) The trauma/anniversary reality: sometimes it’s not “about” the present
For many neurodivergent people, the holidays don’t just bring stimulation—they bring history.
A smell, a song, a tone of voice, a family dynamic, a date on the calendar… your body may react before your mind catches up. That doesn’t mean you’re being dramatic. It means your nervous system remembers.
Grief, dread, shutdown, panic, irritability, numbness, tears—these are common trauma responses. They can show up even when nothing “bad” is happening right now.
If this season hits you harder, you don’t need to justify it. You don’t need to “be over it.” You’re allowed to need support.
4) The physical reality: overload lives in the body
Overstimulation and trauma responses aren’t just feelings. They show up as:
- headaches, nausea, GI flares
- jaw tension, clenching, pain spikes
- fatigue crashes
- insomnia
- sensory pain (sound/light feeling sharp)
- dissociation or shutdown
So “self-care” here isn’t bubble baths and cute quotes. It’s logistics and nervous system care.
Physical accommodations
- Hydrate + eat earlier than you think. Blood sugar dips make everything worse.
- Schedule decompression time before and after (even 10 minutes counts).
- Temperature regulation: layers, hand warmers, a plan for “too hot/too cold.”
- Movement breaks: a short walk, stretching, pacing—movement can discharge stress.
- Bring your supports: fidgets, meds as prescribed, braces, heat/ice tools—whatever helps your body.
If holidays are physically painful for you, that pain is real. You deserve comfort.
5) Your “Festivus Feats of Strength Plan”
(Yours to copy/paste)
My early warning signs: (fog, irritability, tears, jaw tension, urge to flee, shutdown, etc.)
My top 3 triggers: (noise, touch, certain topics, scents, being rushed, etc.)
My top 3 supports: (earplugs, breaks, safe food, car reset, buddy, hoodie, fidget)
My exit plan: (time limit + how I’m leaving + where I can reset)
One boundary I’m keeping: (topic / touch / photos / time / alcohol / etc.)
One kindness I’m giving myself: (decompression, leaving early, skipping, lower expectations)
The core message
You’re allowed to make the holidays fit you.
You’re allowed to:
- skip traditions that harm you
- show up for 45 minutes instead of 4 hours
- wear earplugs at dinner
- opt out of hugs
- step outside without explaining your whole nervous system
- protect yourself without guilt
And if the season brings up trauma, triggers, or grief: you’re not broken. You’re human. And you’re allowed to build support around that truth.
Share it with a neurospicy friend, save it for your next gathering, or copy the Festivus Plan into your notes. If you want, comment with one accommodation you’re giving yourself this season.