We all have our family cultures.  Many of us even engage with religious and ethnic cultures. While this blog is specifically about my experience; I believe many of you will be familiar with the chaos of holidays. I am Jewish and my culture is a blend of family, religion, and ethnic practices.  To this day, no one can define Judaism.  That includes Jews.  But we can all agree that intense, interconnected, communal relationships are an essential part of Jewish culture.  And the High Holy Days are the moment these relationships matter the most. 

The Jewish High Holy days are the most important holidays a Jew observes. The High Holy Days take place over a two-week span.  There are two holidays that fall within this time:  Rosh Hashana aka the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur aka the Day of Atonement.  Suffice to say, these are not happy go lucky holidays.  I will only describe one aspect of the High Holy Days: Break Fast.  On Yom Kippur, everyone fasts for a full day.  This means no food or water.  When the sun sets on the second day of Yom Kippur, we break fast with a gigantic meal.  Imagine a spread of food that spans entire tables and countertops with more food than could be consumed in a week.  Sounds fantastic, doesn’t it?  Well except for one thing: sensory overload.  

Like many of you, I grew up with specific holiday expectations.  In my case, I was expected to participate in highly charged dynamic relationships and practices.  For break fast, I was expected to 1) Go from services to set up 2) Go from set up to socialization 3) Go from socialization to clean up.  Boundaries are discouraged and you are expected to put aside your comfort for the community.  Unfortunately, this includes sensory comfort.  To top it off, this year there were 22 people at my parents’ house for break fast.  That’s right! 22 people.  The entire first floor and the back patio were crowded with people.  Set up started around 4 pm.  People didn’t leave until 8 pm. I didn’t get home until 10 pm.  So, for approximately 6 hours, I was surrounded by anywhere from 4-22 people at all times.  I don’t know about you, but for me that is the beginning of a sensory nightmare. 

Close your eyes and imagine the soundscape.  Plates, cups, flatware, bowls, wine glasses, a Keurig sounding in the background.  The gurgle of coffee, the pouring of drinks, the bubbling of soup, the crunch of food.  People talking and laughing. Smells everywhere, rich, sweet, bitter, sour, and savory. Perfume, far too much perfume.  The sight of food, movement, clothing, jewelry, and shiny objects.  Heat gathering around you as bodies move past one another.  Then shocks of sudden cold when the crowd decreases.  The brush of people’s bodies or clothing.  Eye contact, waaaaaay too much eye contact! 

Unlike previous break fasts, I did not enforce any of my normal boundaries.  I usually find time to go upstairs to my childhood bedroom and hide.  For some reason, whether it was physical or mental, I found myself unable to disengage.  I moved through the whirlwind, constantly struggling to keep myself from shutting down or crying.  No one saw my discomfort.  No encouraged me to take a break.  I was seen, yet unseen, absorbed by what was considered “normal”.  I masked automatically. It is a survival mechanism.  All of it happened because cultural social norms were viewed as more important than individual boundaries. 

I expect many of you thought I would focus on a sensory success.  However, the best learning moment is when you fail.  In my case I failed to: 1) Say I needed a break after services 2) Said I couldn’t do setup 3) Limit my proximity to people 4) Limit socialization 5) Choose a quieter place to socialize 6) Take breaks in my room 7) Say I couldn’t do clean up.  I let the social pressures override my needs.  I paid for it.  I had to work from home the next day.  But to be truthful, I couldn’t do anything.   

In this case, I used my sensory overload recovery strategies: 1) Turn off all the lights and close the blinds 2) Keep away from screen and auditory entertainment 3) Wear my most sensory friendly clothing 4) Eat sensory comfort foods 5) Reduce demands or tasks 6) Sleep 7) Not respond to every single email, phone call, chat, or text.  As per usual, these strategies worked, and I was able to recover my energy and equilibrium.  

Being an Autistic affects how we move through the world.  We will enter complex sensory situations.  We will find ourselves pulled between our needs and the expectations of others.   Each of us will find our boundaries tested.  Each of us will have to make decisions. These decisions will involve strategies you will create. My strategies work for me.  Each of us will have to decide what is important to us:  sensory needs or holiday culture. I made the wrong choice for me.  You may find you will make a different choice than I did.  And that is completely fine.  Use the knowledge I have shared as you need to.  You are the only person who determines your sensory wellbeing.  You are the one that decides your holiday experiences.