Why I Hate the 4th of July (And It’s Not About Patriotism)

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It’s not that I’m not patriotic. It’s not that I don’t love the country I was born in.

It’s the fireworks.
The loud, bone-rattling explosions that burn my eardrums, and the blinding flashes that overwhelm my eyes until I can’t see straight. It’s sensory hell. Complete overload.

There’s no escape, no peace—not until morning. The city and county put on their big show, and all the neighbors light them off in the street, all around me.

So for about eight hours, twice a year—on the 4th of July and on New Year’s Eve—I live in hell. Those are my least favorite holidays. The only one that even comes close is Christmas, but even that isn’t as overwhelming.

It isn’t about being unpatriotic. It’s about surviving in a world that’s just too loud, too bright, and too relentless for my autistic senses.

— Caleb

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