Words by Dr Dianne Blackwell // 4 min read.
My cousin Sarah dreads our extended family beach Christmas tradition, while for me it’s actually where I can breathe, it’s where I regulate. She describes it as sensory ‘hell’ — the sand sticking to sunscreen-covered skin, the sun reflecting off water in painful flashes, the seagulls and sounds of loud children.
This year, we worked out a compromise. She comes for the morning when it’s quieter, stays under the big beach tent with her noise-cancelling headphones, and leaves before the crowds arrive. The rest of the family who love the beach, stay all day.
For me, the same space feels completely different. The rhythm of the waves regulates me. The sand between my toes is one of my favourite stims. The ocean’s white noise softens the social chaos around me.
It’s a vivid reminder of something people often forget: the same sensory environment can be ‘heaven’ for one person and absolute overload for another — both experiences and everything in between are valid.
This story shows that sensory profiles aren’t predictable — not even within the same family, having the same diagnosis, or at the same event or location.
Which is why the next part of the conversation matters: the ways people can intentionally build sensory comfort, create predictability, and shape Christmas traditions around personal preference rather than inherited expectations.
The Australian summer can come with its own set of sensory trials that can shape the way Christmas unfolds.
Heat Regulation Issues
- Difficulty recognising overheating until it’s severe
- Sweat creating constant uncomfortable wetness
- Clothes sticking to skin
- Dehydration affecting cognitive function
- Heat exhaustion presenting as social exhaustion
Sun and Brightness
- Glare off every surface — roads, cars, water, windows
- Decorations that vanish in bright daylight
- Transition shock between bright outdoors and dark indoors
- Sunglasses creating their own sensory discomfort
- Evening still bright during celebrations
Outdoor Sensory Bombardment
- Cicadas creating a wall of sound
- Flies landing unexpectedly on skin
- Sand getting everywhere at beach gatherings
- Chlorine smell and feel at pool parties
- Barbecue smoke stinging eyes and throat
Me and my extended family have reimagined Christmas in a way that fits both the Australian climate and my sensory patterns — which aren’t the same every year or even every day. The beach is one of my happiest places, and on many Christmases it’s where I regulate best. The rhythm of the waves, the sand under my feet, and the ocean’s steady white noise give me a sense of calm that indoor celebrations rarely do.
But some years, especially when the heat is intense or I’m already carrying sensory fatigue, my body asks for something different — something quieter, cooler, and gentler. On those days, we shift Christmas to match what my nervous system needs. We start with a cold breakfast on the verandah while the air is still soft. We open presents in the air-conditioned living room where the lights are low and the pace is slow.
During the hottest hours, everyone rests — reading, napping, regulating — no pressure, no traditions that fight the weather. By sunset, when the heat finally releases its grip, I often head to the beach. That’s where the day settles for me: toes in the sand, cooler air on my skin, and the evening ocean helping me reconnect with myself.
It’s not one fixed ritual — it’s a flexible rhythm that honours what my body needs in that season, on that day. And for the first time, Christmas feels like it actually fits me.
The Permission for a Different Christmas
The biggest gift you can give yourself is permission — to stop performing a Northern Hemisphere Christmas in Southern Hemisphere weather. You could give yourself permission to let go of trying to do Christmas in a way that doesn’t work for you even if it means saying ‘no’ to your family and friends.
Try declining invitations to gatherings if noise, smell or certain people cause a sensory nightmare. Skip the hot roast if heated food makes you nauseous. Stay inside with a fan or air conditioning if that’s where you function best. Ask for the overwhelming smells to be reduced, or remove yourself from them in possible.
Your Christmas doesn’t have to look ‘traditional’ to feel meaningful.
The year I stopped apologising for my summer Christmas needs was the year I started enjoying it. I bring my fan everywhere, leave events when I need to, wear cotton clothes, take cooling breaks.
My Christmas doesn’t look like a snow globe — it looks like me, managing the heat, honouring my sensory needs, and finding joy in the quiet, cool, real moments. That’s my Australian Christmas.
Author:
Dr Dianne Blackwell
OTARC Researcher
D.Blackwell@latrobe.edu.au
