For neurodivergent adults, parents of neurodivergent children and for the therapists that support them.

[Read on to get your FREE sensory checklist, a neurodivergent resource for parents, professionals or neurodivergent teens/adults.]

Many of us, especially those who are autistic, ADHD, or otherwise neurodivergent, were taught from a young age to ignore our bodies. To sit still. Keep our hands to ourselves. Stop fidgeting. Stop flapping. Stop rocking. To wear the school jumper even if it felt like sandpaper. To stay in the noisy assembly hall and “just get used to it.”

These aren’t just throwaway moments. For many neurodivergent people, they become a pattern of disconnect. We learn to suppress our discomfort and mask our responses in order to fit in. Over time, we lose touch with what our bodies are trying to tell us. Or we still feel it, but carry the shame that it’s somehow wrong. This, combined with a difficulty with our interoceptive sense, means that we are disconnected from not just our bodies, but our emotional world too.

I know that was true for me. It wasn’t until adulthood that I began to understand just how much I’d learned to push through sensory discomfort. And how doing so had become a quiet but constant source of stress in my nervous system.

In some therapeutic approaches, sensory sensitivities are still seen as something to push through or desensitise. The idea is that, by doing something more and more times, you increase your tolerance for it and eventually get used to it. But especially for neurodivergent people, this just increases the likelihood we will either a) mask more and say it’s working – to do what is expected of us or b) suppress our distress and discomfort which further disconnects us from ourselves. Not something conducive to living an authentic life and certainly not something that we want in therapy. Pushing through sensory sensitivities in this way can be deeply distressing, and retraumatising in some cases. What’s often needed is the opposite. A slowing down. A gentle noticing. A space where we are allowed to say, “This feels too much,” and not be told we’re overreacting.

Why sensory self-awareness matters

Our sensory needs shape so much. They affect how we relate to people, how safe we feel in different environments, how we regulate emotions, and how we connect to our bodies.

When we start to explore our sensory profile, it can help us:

• Make sense of past experiences
• Understand why certain situations or environments have felt overwhelming
• Begin to honour our need for comfort, space, movement, or stillness
• Feel more present in our bodies
• Support self-advocacy and ask for accommodations if that feels safe
• (In therapy) Lay the foundation for future trauma work, if and when we’re ready

For me, this sensory awareness came slowly. I started noticing how I always turned off overhead lights without thinking. How I left events feeling drained but couldn’t explain why. How much calmer I felt with music on, or how soothing it was to fidget when I was thinking. These weren’t quirks. They were my nervous system trying to regulate.

In my work as a counsellor, I often hear late-identified or newly diagnosed neurodivergent adults say things like, “I don’t really have any sensory issues.” And at first, they genuinely believe that. But as we begin to explore things through a neurodivergent-affirming lens , one that allows reframing, curiosity, and self-compassion, many start to unmask a little and recognise parts of their sensory profile they’d never named before. The way they avoid big crowds, drink alcohol to get through a social situation or to dampen their senses, the constant fidgeting they’d written off as bad habits. As this awareness grows, so does their capacity to care for themselves. They begin to do what they need to support both their body and their mind, often for the first time.

Sometimes this work is just about giving permission to listen to the body again. The goal is never to push through. It’s to reconnect.

For Therapists

If you’re a therapist or counsellor, you don’t need to be an OT (Occupational Therapist) or a sensory expert to support this work. What’s most important is that you hold space for sensory experiences without shame or pressure.

You can gently explore what feels okay, what feels too much, and what has been masked. As you create safety in your therapy room, ensure that sensory needs are high on your agenda – offer adaptations for lighting, seating options, music wherever you can, and ensure you check in frequently to see if the client’s awareness of the needs have changed.

A resource to begin with

I’ve created a free sensory checklist that’s suitable for adults, children, parents, and therapists. It’s not a diagnostic tool. It’s a reflection aid to explore your sensory profile. Many of the checklists I come across when supporting parents or adults use medicalised language. My checklist is written in affirming, inclusive language and offers a starting point for noticing your sensory preferences, sensitivities, and regulation strategies.

Whether you’re a therapist wanting to support neurodivergent clients, a parent trying to understand your child more deeply, or a late-identified adult beginning to make sense of your past and present, this is for you. Please feel free to download and use as you wish. And if this is helpful, my full sensory workbook is available over in our shop.

Download the free checklist here

And if you’d like to keep exploring topics like this, including interoception, trauma, masking, and regulation, you can sign up to my newsletter. I share reflections, tools, and resources for both professionals and ND folks navigating life and therapy in affirming ways.