The seasons of over-stimulation are upon us! Parties, family gatherings, big meals, spooks and ghouls, flashing lights, religious ceremonies, people we don't see often or have never seen before who want to hug and kiss us. At this time of year, it can almost be like trying to drink from a fire hose . . . and not the good stuff!
I have this dream that we sit down for a meal with our friends and family, my son tries some of everything served without complaining and actually enjoys most of it. He carries a back-and-forth conversation that doesn't involve one of his passions, but someone else's, and he fully enjoys himself. He may have a similar desire, but that capacity doesn't exist . . . yet. He can pull off some of it, but is the stress around it worth it?
When I take a step back and really think about the stressors I experience during the holidays, even though I enjoy them immensely, I have to recognize that, for our son, the stressors he experiences might not be worth it for him. So, how do we make them worth it?
In come the grandparents and a simple question that turned out to be excellent advice: does he have to eat at the table and what we eat?
After months of trying to have our son participate in our small family Friday dinners and the food we were serving there, things were just not getting any better. Unfortunately, the collateral consequence of what we were trying to achieve, was that he no longer looked forward to having his grandparents over for dinner. For him, it just meant sitting at the table, suffering through questions he didn't want to answer and conversations in which he wasn't interested, and eating food he didn't want to eat. Each of these stressors piled up on each other and his enjoyment of his grandparents took the hit.
We had taken what was supposed to be a nice time to spend with family and turned it into a "growing" experience at the expense of all of our enjoyment.
So we stopped.
Now, for Friday dinners, our son looks forward to his grandparents walking through the door so he can go over his new favorite game or achievement. Sometimes we do still have him sit at the table, but because it is not usually a firm requirement, he does so with little complaint and engages. I'm happy to make him a taco so he doesn't have to eat that "saucy" (and delicious) chicken cacciatore that grandma makes, and she always brings a loaf of her fresh baked bread because he loves it warm with butter. Even though most nights he might be sitting at his computer eating his dinner, he is always listening, comments on conversation, and sometimes comes in the dining room to engage. His participation has a new spontaneity and enjoyment.
Point being, for the best of us, a full holiday season can mean uncomfortable clothes/shoes, crowds, touching, sitting in hard pews or seats for extended periods of time, smells, new foods, or old foods that we eat out of politeness because no one wants to point out that "Aunt Maude's" Jello salad always has cat hair. We step out of our comfort zones with new people or people that we don't see often. We endure jokes that we don't understand, or wish we didn't. The nights can be late and the days scheduled to the brink with no breaks - on top of work, school, and everyday affairs. And let's not forget - transitions, transitions, transitions.
In all this, we want our kids and loved ones on the spectrum, or with certain sensitivities, to enjoy it, but at what cost? What are the memories we are really trying to create? For us, when we traded what we thought was the "proper" thing, for what is the "real" thing, our son was more free to turn what would otherwise be stressful moments into happy memories.
This doesn't mean that he's not required to participate in some formal events, but we will work to envision those events differently. We will prep him more appropriately with expectations and endpoints and be clear about his options for when it is just too much. We will also make sure there is plenty of downtime to reset and recharge.
As parents, WE don't need the experience and memory of a "perfect" event where we sit with our hands in our lap and do what is expected. But our son needs the experience and memory of enjoying his surroundings and loved ones without the stress and constraints of neurotypical expected behavior. That is what will foster the growth and relationship he has to special occasions and others.
As you embark on your holiday season, recognize that we all need downtime to reset and recharge. It may seem impossible to imagine, but no one will remember that you forgot to make the green bean casserole (except, maybe, your neurodiverse kid!), but everyone will remember the love and laughter you were all able to share. I wish you plenty of it.
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