Autistic Coping Tidings of Comfort and Joy

You know what? I fricken love Christmas lights. My non-autistic spouse does too. And even after the year we have all had, they still have an effect on me.

For me, this is a form of sensory regulation. I love the gentle visual input that helps my nervous system feel calmer and safer in my own space.

A few years back, we made the executive decision that we like Christmas lights in our house enough that we’d keep them up year-round.

In January, we take the ornaments off and put them into the soft-sided plastic container that initially held a blanket and was repurposed to hold our Christmas decorations. We also remove the two Swedish candelabras from our front windows. But we leave the mostly bare tree standing all year now, and we leave the lights on that tree.

Those lights give me joy. It’s a way to allow something that gives comfort to be permanent, and we don’t have to justify keeping this tree up all year simply because the holiday has a season that suggests I need to move on.

In 2024, I was so acutely ill that we did not decorate our little tree or place the two candelabras in the windows. In fact, I didn’t even make it outside to see the lights around our neighborhood. But I sure was grateful for the ever-shining lights as I plodded around the house.

Still, we had our lighted tree, as we now always do. And its quiet, steady light gave me joy even while I was so sick, and my world had begun to shrink.

As of late 2025, I have needed to spend most of my time lying down in bed. The bigger Christmas tree is in the living room. Our bedroom is very small, with just enough room to walk around the bed, and for each of us to have a nightstand.

This year, courtesy of the inspired idea of Rachael the Beloved, we placed our very small tabletop Christmas tree in the bedroom on my nightstand, and it is absolutely covered in lights. This is because the tree is about 18″ tall, and the extra strand of lights we had is 10 feet long. I chose a couple ornaments, and I think it’s just perfect.

For some autistic people, peace and comfort come from quiet or darkness. For others, it comes from Christmas lights, or whatever other familiar thing brings joy with repetition.

Is it ridiculous? I mean, kinda. But the Christmas lights bring me SO much joy, and I’ve been grateful to participate in this, since last year I couldn’t decorate, and this year I mostly can’t get out.

When I say “joy” I don’t mean “happy” but I do mean soothing, comfort… This practice makes my daily life more peaceful and less harsh for an already drained body and brain.

This January, we will again pack up the ornaments and those two candelabras. I will remove the two ornaments currently hanging on the little bedroom tree. They will all be placed into the soft-sided bag where they will rest until Advent next year.

We will leave the lighted (and otherwise bare) tree up in the living room, and I’m going to keep the little lighted tree in the bedroom too. Tidings of comfort and joy are not bound by the calendar in this case.

If you also happen to share this source of comfort and joy, I hope you might consider freeing yourself of the rule that says you need to put it all away.

Want to discuss this topic?

* There is this post on bluesky and this thread on facebook *