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Key points
- Atypical or neurodivergent families can find holidays like Halloween to be challenging and isolating.
- Every family, typical or not, has its own private struggles.
- Families should pick and choose the aspects of holidays that work for them and discard the rest.
When I was a kid, I would obsessively count the days until Halloween. I couldn’t wait. The excitement of Halloween was second only to my birthday, which also falls in October. Back then, fall was just one big Me Fest! I remember once getting a really great costume together, a fortune teller. I had on all kinds of scarves and jewelry, the right hairdo and dress. I was all set.
The problem was, it was only September.
As much as I loved Halloween as a kid, I did not love Halloween as a young mom. In fact, I dreaded it. That’s because none of my kids loved it the way I did. And for many years, it was especially difficult to take my autistic son, Nat, out trick-or-treating, because he was so unpredictable, sometimes aggressive, and always, always, he just did not seem to get what was good about it.
This used to make me miserable. I remember trying to get him to say, “Trick or treat,” and to wait to be told to take candy. Everything joyful about the holiday felt flattened out by the weight of autism. And I could see that Halloween was just another meaningless string of orders for Nat. My worst memory of Halloween with my sons is probably an amalgam of different Halloweens, but it went something like this: Nat was around nine and I went with him, his younger brother Max, and Ben—a baby at that time—around the neighborhood along with a horde of friends and their parents. I had a lump in my throat the whole time, which threatened to burst into an ugly mess of tears at any moment. Nat’s autism—his overt difference—and his utter indifference to what was going on made me feel almost nauseated with grief. It was as if I were living as two selves at once: the happy mom accompanying her three lovely boys out on Halloween, reminding them to say “thank you,” and the sad, broken-hearted mom wishing that things would just for once go the way I had expected. The one child I could relate to—Max—was already light years beyond us. Max, my typically developing son, was surrounded by friends; ultimately he left us behind and went off with his crowd. And so there I was with my angry baby stuffed in his little peapod costume and Nat, who only wanted to get home.
I cared so much about being like everyone else back then, but at some point along the way, I finally let go of the fantasy of having a Norman Rockwell Halloween. And I started to look hard at my family and figure out what would work for us, what were our common denominators, our must-haves—and what we could dump from our Halloween.
So my new question for Halloween became: What could we do, as opposed to what should we do? What worked for us, and what did not? Maybe the big family trick-or-treat trek was unnecessary. Maybe all we needed was candy, friends, and pumpkins. And decorations. Once I shifted my focus this way, the ideas came pretty easily. Okay, which activities were my family’s favorites, Halloween or not? Simple: creating, eating, and seeing friends, but on our own terms, our own turf. Being close to home, which was more comfortable for Nat, and more controllable than outdoor activities. I was beginning to truly understand that having autism—and in fact, having children—in your life teaches you pretty quickly that you have to be flexible, open-minded, and not judge yourself.
Happily, over time things change, children grow and become more comfortable with the world, and so eventually Nat actually did understand Halloween. He never really felt the need to go trick-or-treating, though, so I would stay home with him, or even better, send him to our town’s Parks and Rec Halloween party. There were plenty of staff there who knew Nat from Special Olympics, and so I could just drop him off—in his Zorro costume, of course. He’s 31 now and he still goes. So do many of his friends who have their own struggles. By now Nat's Zorro costume is highly detailed, very authentic, with a gorgeous black leather hat and very realistic, albeit plastic, sword.
As for me, the HallowQueen? How do I have fun on Halloween, given my family life’s limitations? Sometimes I light candles and plug in my Christmas lights, so the house has a festive, moody atmosphere. I play scary music. I eat a lot of candy. I pour myself a glass of wine. I chat with neighbors on my porch.
And most important of all: I always wear a great costume.
