Note: This was pre-written and pre-scheduled to keep my blog active while I recover from my surgery. Thank you for being here while I recover. 

A Guide to Surviving the Christmas Season (Blind & Low Vision Edition)

Christmas is often described as a season of wonder: sparkling lights, crowded markets and glittering chaos that somehow passes for magic. For those of us with blindness or low vision; in my case, Retinitis Pigmentosa, the festive period is not simply merry mayhem. It is a sensory onslaught. Shops are rearranged without warning, decorations suddenly block walkways and strangers rush past without a thought for anyone else’s safety. While most people experience some level of holiday stress, navigating this season without full sight adds an invisible layer of labour. Yet with a little planning, honesty and compassion for ourselves, Christmas can be reshaped into something calmer, safer and even enjoyable.

Making Home Our Refuge

The first step in facing the holiday rush is creating a sanctuary at home. For those of us with low vision, clear pathways are not a matter of preference but of safety, especially when visitors arrive with bags and parcels that inevitably end up underfoot. Decorations do not need to be abandoned but they benefit from being chosen carefully. Tactile garlands, textured ornaments or a single strand of gentle fairy lights often create more warmth than an overload of flashing bulbs. Strong scents can tip from cosy to overwhelming in seconds so subtle fragrances like cinnamon, vanilla or pine are far kinder on the senses. Most importantly, a quiet corner to retreat to whether it is a favourite chair with a blanket or simply a designated “pause space” provides relief when the outside world feels too chaotic.

Conquering the Shopping Obstacle Course

Shopping at Christmas is a universal headache but for us it can feel like running an obstacle course. Aisles are rearranged with no warning, promotional displays spring up overnight and background music blares over the sound of impatient crowds. Staff, already overwhelmed with the season, often forget how to give clear and helpful guidance. Online shopping is often our saving grace. Screen readers, magnification tools and detailed product descriptions make browsing manageable, and delivery saves us the exhaustion of navigating shops. If physical shopping is unavoidable, choosing quieter hours such as weekday mornings makes the experience less punishing. A patient, respectful shopping companion can be invaluable, not someone who drags us along at speed, but one who understands that accessibility matters more than rushing.

Managing the Social Storm

Festive gatherings, while joyful, can also feel overwhelming. Rooms full of flashing lights, unpredictable movement and competing noise are rarely accessible without preparation. Arriving early allows us to learn the layout before the crowd fills the space. Asking for simple adjustments such as a seat away from harsh lights or ensuring pathways remain clear makes a significant difference. Earplugs or noise-cancelling headphones can be discreet lifesavers, and taking regular breaks outside keeps things manageable. Leaving early is not rudeness; it is preservation. Our well-being must always outweigh social expectations.

Independence On Our Terms

There is often pressure around Christmas for disabled people to prove independence, as though asking for help diminishes us. The truth is that independence is not defined by doing everything alone. For those of us with RP, it means using tools and support in ways that protect our energy and dignity. Navigation apps and tools help us move through chaotic environments while simple communication with friends or family like, “Let me hold your arm,” or “Describe the table layout,” makes outings smoother. Independence should not leave us exhausted; it should leave us safe.

Protecting Mental Health

The holidays are built around sighted traditions: marvelling at lights, watching films and admiring elaborate displays. For those of us with low vision, this can hurt. Pretending it doesn’t matter often leads to burnout. That is why mental health care must be built into seasonal planning. Setting aside rest days, having a list of comforting activities such as: audiobooks, podcasts, music and connecting with blind and low vision communities online can all help. Therapy, journaling or mindfulness practices can also provide grounding. Protecting our mental health is not self-indulgence; it is essential.

Creating Accessible Traditions

Just because many holiday activities are designed for sighted people does not mean we cannot create our own meaningful traditions. Baking biscuits with textured toppings, wrapping gifts with ribbons that differ by feel or making scented decorations turn the season into something we can fully enjoy. Audio-based gifts such as personalised recordings or playlists feel deeply intimate and inclusive. Even a tactile advent calendar can bring joy without relying on sight. When we create traditions that play to our strengths, the holidays stop feeling like an exercise in exclusion and start feeling like they truly belong to us.

Choosing Comfort Over Performance

The festive season comes with endless pressure to perform: to attend every gathering, to be endlessly sociable and to embody cheer. For those of us navigating blindness or low vision, that expectation is not only unrealistic but harmful. We already spend vast amounts of energy negotiating environments that are not built for us. Choosing to keep celebrations small, to skip certain events or to spend the day quietly at home does not make Christmas less valid. Comfort is not laziness. It is survival, and it is freedom. Often the most memorable holidays are the quietest ones; not the loudest, brightest or most crowded.

In the end, Christmas does not have to be about fitting into someone else’s idea of festive perfection. For those of us with blindness or low vision, it can be about crafting joy on our own terms — through sound, touch, scent and connection. That is where the real magic lives.