Thanks for continuing to read. The holidays are usually a great time for me because I love a lot of aspects of familiarity and constants from year to year. The same music playing, the same smells in the grocery store, wearing the same winter clothes. However it often becomes a little overwhelming if taken in all at once. Just wanted to write a short glimpse into what that can feel like for an autistic person.

...

The holidays were an odd time.

Of course, it was usually a happy time because there was presents and food and familiar tunes playing everywhere.

But along with that came bright flashy lights, shiny orbs on trees, crowds, songs too high in pitch, those stupid squeaky jingle bells, and glitter. So much glitter. Everywhere.

But this holiday season was going to be a lot different for Shaun, being in a new home. He wasn't sure what to even expect. Thanksgiving was…normal? Better? He wasn't really sure. Dr. Glassman had brought him to a Thanksgiving dinner at the Center for Neurology and Neurosurgery which was attached to the hospital in which he worked. Because the staff there was working, they decided to have a "family" dinner which was catered and around for the whole day, for eating in between seeing patients. Dr. Glassman brought Shaun along with him to let him experience the sort of work they did in a doctor's office. He'd noticed immediately that Shaun enjoyed science—specifically, medical textbooks and encyclopedias. So when Shaun spent the day at the Neurology Thanksgiving, he found a quiet room that wasn't occupied by any nurses or doctors or patients, and he grabbed a book off of Dr. Glassman's desk. To him, it was the first and only thanksgiving he'd actually somewhat enjoyed in his life. No yucky foods being forced onto his plate, no loud chatter, no family members badgering him for hugs, and no, no mashed sweet potato casserole. God how he hated mashed sweet potato casserole. To get all excited about seeing a dish full of roasted marshmallows, only to dig a spoon in and find that disgusting orange mud underneath….It was life's greatest blow.

So getting to relax and spend a holiday actually feeling comfortable was a nice change so far. However, Shaun was nervous for Christmas. Never before had he celebrated Hanukkah, yet Dr. Glassman had introduced him to some of the traditions without pushing him too deep. Getting a small present each day was quite fun. But Shaun wasn't really a fan of the foods he'd tried during that time. Thankfully, they didn't have to go to any big parties or anything like that—Dr. Glassman introduced him to the customs quietly at home. But especially from what Shaun saw, Hanukkah and Christmas were two very different things.

On this particular day, Shaun and Dr. Glassman were walking through a busy shopping mall (much to the boy's dismay) in search of a new warm coat. All the noise, lights, smells, people… it really started to become too much. Dr. Glassman noticed Shaun was beginning to walk hunched. "I know," he said. "I know this probably isn't your favorite place to be. But I needed you to come with me in order for me to get you the right size." Shaun didn't reply. He drew his hands together and rubbed them together nervously. Dr. Glassman attempted to place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, but was met with a pull away and a soft "Nnnn…" This wasn't going to be easy. Especially since there were days where both felt like they were on each other's very last nerve—like neither one was listening to—

Shaun suddenly stopped walking directly in front of the photography area where young kids were getting their Christmas picture taken with Santa Claus. "Come on," Dr. Glassman tried to ease him along. But Shaun was fixated on something—staring hard, unable to let it go. It dawned on Dr. Glassman that just as he'd read, kids with autism like Shaun didn't fully "grow up" inside, and still held onto childhood things. Did he still believe in Santa? At fourteen years old? Did he ever start believing in Santa? Shaun continued to stare intensely. "Are you alr—" Dr. Glassman didn't even get to finish his sentence before Shaun stamped his foot on the ground, hard. And then again. So began the wringing of his hands, gasping for breath, pacing. People began to send looks his way. Dr. Glassman reached out to stop Shaun and attempt to grasp his shoulders. It didn't last long, because Shaun let out a short frustrated cry and threw himself on the floor. He rocked himself. He panted. He held his arms close to his chest. It was clear now that he was crying and the labored breathing only made it sound like sobs. He began beating his hands against the cold tile floor. Dr. Glassman, feeling panicked himself and also quite embarrassed, got down on the floor with Shaun, desperately trying to grab him in such a way that would end his fit. "Stop it, Shaun, stop this. Come here. Shaun you're ok, it's ok. Just stop. Calm down." His attempts at soothing the boy were getting nowhere. Somehow, he managed to get arms around Shaun's chest, and he used his strength to pull him up and hug him tight. Shaun kicked his feet, still fighting an invisible battle. "Shaun," Dr. Glassman said, giving him another warm squeeze. "Shaun count with me. Count with me. 1…2…3…4…5…6…"

Shaun's tantrum slowed, the sudden interest in the rhythmic pattern preoccupied his racing brain. What were they counting? The number of lights on the strand that was wrapped around the plastic gate? The number of red berries on the wreath hanging nearby? How many people were wearing brown shoes? "…11…12…13…14…" Dr. Glassman went on, still allowing Shaun room to rock himself, but not letting go of his grasp on the boy. "Ok…good. Good boy. Shh…it's alright. It's ok. Relax." Suddenly, Shaun realized what had happened and he instantly got a pit in his stomach. His face melted from that of rage into complete tears. And everyone was staring. Everyone. Dr. Glassman calmly eased the boy to standing up, where he took his hand and led the slumping child out towards the nearest exit.

Shaun was still in tears, and when they made it outside to the icy air, he collapsed onto a bench and turned his head away from Dr. Glassman, who sat beside him. He took his own scarf off and wrapped it over Shaun's shoulders like a blanket. "It's ok," he said softly. "You don't have to talk about it." Several silent, frigid moments passed. Finally, Shaun took a deep breath. "Y-You can p-put me away." he quietly murmured. Dr. Glassman looked at him. "What was that?"

"I said…you can put me away."

"What do you mean?"

"I-I know. Dad always said if I kept being bad…he would send me to the nuthouse."

"You think I would ever do that to you, Shaun?"

"Y-You should. I'm being very bad. I'm very bad." Shaun smacked the back of his own hand twice before Dr. Glassman could grab it to stop him

"Shaun…you're going through the most difficult period of your entire life. You lost your home, you lost the person you were closest to, and now you have to learn to adjust to living with an old man you hardly know. It's overwhelming, I get it. You're allowed to have times where you're just inexplicably upset."

"Santa isn't real."

"What makes you say that?"

"If he was real…he could bring me back Steve. He could bring me back my bunny. Because those are the only things I want."

Dr. Glassman felt his heart hurting inside for this poor, helpless boy. He felt at a loss for words. He just let out a sigh, still holding onto Shaun's hand. After a few minutes, he felt Shaun slide a little closer and lean against his arm. "I'm sorry," he quietly said. Dr. Glassman shook his head. "Don't apologize Shaun. We're figuring this out together." A wind swept past, causing the both of them to shiver a bit. Dr. Glassman found himself chuckling slightly. "Shaun, how about we go back home, get some hot coco, and I'll measure you and just order your coat online. Does that sound good?" he asked, receiving a nod from his little one. Together they stood, and headed out to the car. Shaun didn't understand why he was still going to get hot chocolate, and he hadn't yet gotten hit for having a meltdown. But then again, the man didn't seem like the type that would hit him or hurt him. Still wary, Shaun kept an eye on the doctor to make sure no surprises came.

However just a few days later, on Christmas morning, Shaun did get surprised. There was a small plastic Christmas tree with very few ornaments sitting on the corner of the coffee table, and under it was three boxes, wrapped in brown paper but with colorful bows. He cautiously edged down the stairs, catching Dr. Glassman's attention as he was drinking his coffee. "Merry Christmas, Shaun." he said. Shaun quietly sat down in front of the presents. Dr. Glassman smiled. "Yes, they're all for you." he encouraged. Shaun needed no further instruction to begin tearing open the paper to find out what was inside. He really hadn't expected to get any presents this year. Inside the first box was a small kit containing little plastic molecules, allowing him to build and create his own. Inside the second was a book about human anatomy—his very own. And in the third box…there was a soft stuffed rabbit toy that was quite heavy but didn't have any scratchy tags or hard eyes. "I couldn't bring your bunny back, Shaun. But I thought maybe this one could help." Dr. Glassman explained. The rabbit was weighted, which he'd read could often be used to help children with autism calm down and sleep. Shaun hugged it close. He even gave a little smile. Seeing the joyful reaction made Dr. Glassman's heart leap, and he gave a little chuckle. "I tried my best to decorate, but I'm…not really used to the whole Christmas thing yet." he said. Shaun looked up at him briefly, then back down at his bunny. "It's ok," he replied. "We're figuring this out together."