Triggered By Freedom
Every year the United States counts down to fireworks. Every year we count down to tears. My kids are autistic. What looks like celebration to most, feels like danger to them. Neurodivergent people have sensory processing differences. They experience sounds, lights, and smells more intensely, and it causes physical pain in their bodies. Fireworks are loud, sudden, and bright, and they trigger the "fight, flight, or freeze" reaction.
The smell of smoke causes fear, panic, and confusion because it's unfamiliar. Not to mention it causes breathing issues and discomfort. The loud booms create an alarming jolt in their body that feels like danger because they are unable to predict when the next one is coming, causing distress. The lights are not just bright, they are disorienting. Even if they seem okay at first, the nervous system overload will come after the even is over. This looks like sleeplessness, meltdowns, and shutdowns. Emotional regulation that requires a significant amount of support. This is what a sensitive nervous system looks like. One that processes input differently and more intensely. And as their parents, we must adapt.
What does this adaptation look like? Home preparation means we close the curtains and turn on the fans. We listen to calming playlists and nest in our blankets. We find all of our comfort items, and wait. We wait for the first boom, holding our breath for the fear that follows.
Over time, I've found that layering my spiritual practices alongside our sensory supports has helped us move through nights like this with more softness and safety. My boys may not understand words like "frequency" or "nervous system regulation," but their molecules do.
I play sound frequencies (528 Hz) to promote calmness and peace. Before the fireworks begin, I might do a simple meditation with them, hand on heart, counting breaths together. Lavender floating through the air. Applying lotion to their shoulders and quiet reminders that they are safe. They may not respond in the moment, but their bodies will remember the softness.
When the sky lights up, we cocoon. We hold each other in silence, or rock back and forth. There will be tears. There will be screams. But we will tough it out together. Sometimes I wish my children could enjoy what other kids seem to love effortlessly, but I could never wish away their sensitivities. I just wish the world knew how to hold them better, and that's part of why I'm writing this.
If you have never had to explain to your child why the world outside sounds like war, you might not realize what this day means for so many families like mine. You may not know that we dread the week surrounding the fourth of July. Not because we are ungrateful, but because we're trying to help our children feel safe in bodies that are already doing so much work to survive this world.
If your child loves fireworks, I am happy for you, and I will celebrate with you after the photos are posted on Facebook. I just ask you to understand that not everyone will have that same experience. Some of us are comforting our children in dark closets to avoid the sounds of firecrackers. Some of us will be holding trembling hands while silently wishing the sky would just be quiet one year.
To every parent prepping for this holiday like it's a tsunami coming, I see you. You are not weak and you're not alone. If your chest is already tight and your sleep is already disrupted, you are not doing anything wrong. You're not overreacting. You're tuned into your child's needs, and that is sacred work.
You do not need to explain your boundaries to anyone. You don't need to show up at the barbecue if your gut says no. You do not need to try and make your child "fit in" for the sake of tradition. You're not ruining the holiday. You just need to trust yourself and do what feels safe, spiritual, and grounded for your family.
Freedom looks different in our home. It's a quiet room, noise cancelling headphones, and essential oils... but it is always, always, full of fierce, intuitive, soft, sacred love.
Before fireworks:
Visual schedules, stories, telling them what to expect
Headphones, white noise
Quiet space or sensory tent
Ask neighbors for a heads up
During:
Let them opt-out
Comfort items: blanket, stuffed animal, chewies, fidgets
Stay calm. Your energy makes them feel safe.
Body regulation: preferred stimming like hand flapping or breath work
Nonverbal support: staying nearby but giving them space if needed
Grounding items: crystals, mantras, affirmations
After fireworks:
Quiet recovery time
Validate their experience
Let go of guilt. Even if the night was awful, safety matters more than tradition.
