Seeing the World Through My Senses
First published on myneurodivergentstory.blog
Over time, I’ve realised that a lot of my experiences make sense through the lens of Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits — how my brain receives and reacts to information from the world around me. Living with suspected autism, ADHD, dyspraxia, and dyslexia means perceiving life in vivid, sometimes overwhelming ways.
I’m currently on the NHS waiting list for formal diagnostic assessments, but understanding these traits has already changed how I see myself. My ADHD, Dyslexia, and Dyspraxia screenings were completed by Lexxic — a specialist organisation that supports neurodivergent adults in the workplace and beyond.
Understanding Sensory Processing in Neurodiversity
If there’s a TV on in the room — even just a looping advert — I can’t tune it out. My attention locks on, and I lose track of everything else. It feels like my brain can’t filter out what isn’t relevant, so everything becomes relevant all at once.
In crowded spaces, the noise blends into a wall of sound. Yet a single whisper can cut through it — especially if I think it’s about me. The world often feels “too loud” or “too bright,” and that constant input can be exhausting. Over time, I’ve learned small ways to cope: using noise-cancelling headphones, green-tinted backgrounds for reading, soft lighting, and seeking quiet corners when I need them.
The National Autistic Society explains that sensory differences are common across autistic and neurodivergent people, including those with ADHD and dyspraxia. Knowing this helped me realise I wasn’t “too sensitive” or weak — just wired differently.
Predictability and Self-Regulation
People often describe me as “well organised,” but what they’re really seeing is my need for predictability. Planning helps me feel safe. I build backups for backups and create mental checklists because it’s the only way to stop my thoughts spiralling. When something unexpected happens, my brain switches into problem-solving mode — step by step, logically. Emotion comes later.
Even my small habits have meaning. Fiddling with my necklace, twisting my wedding ring, or brushing my hair between my fingers aren’t random gestures. They’re stimming behaviours — small, unconscious movements that help me regulate when I’m tired, anxious, or overstimulated.
During one of our morning huddles about neurodiversity at work, I brought a set of Neurodiversity Discussion Cards (created by Newglade Counselling) to spark a conversation about Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits we often see in ourselves and others. I asked my colleagues to pick six cards at random. When stimming came up, my manager said she didn’t think I stimmed — which gave me the chance to explain what it looks like for me.
After that conversation, I began exploring more of my own Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits with support from my neurodiversity coach at Genius Within. Their guidance helped me recognise patterns I’d never noticed before — how I self-regulate through movement, and how my sensory sensitivities influence focus, energy, and emotional balance.
When the Body & Brain Overlap
Over time, I’ve become more aware of other stimming behaviours — things I didn’t even realise were part of it. I often find myself picking or scratching at my skin, especially on my hand and at the nape of my neck — two patches where I have psoriasis. These areas never fully heal. When I learned more about stimming, I realised these were places I regularly rub or scratch without noticing. It might be linked to the Koebner phenomenon, where repeated trauma to the skin can trigger or worsen psoriasis. It’s a strange realisation — that the very act of self-soothing might also be part of what keeps those spots from healing.
The Psoriasis Association explains this link, and it makes me reflect on how stress and sensory overload manifest physically as well as mentally.
Later, my therapist helped me notice quieter stims — like wriggling my toes the way you do in warm sand — a subtle way to ground myself when box breathing isn’t enough. Each new discovery feels like uncovering a hidden language my body has been speaking all along.
What I’ve Learned About Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits
Through all of this, I’ve learned that sensory processing isn’t just about one sense or one condition — it’s about how the brain receives and responds to information from both the body and the world around us.
Conditions such as autism, ADHD, dyspraxia, and dyslexia often involve differences in sensory processing, and they frequently overlap. These aren’t necessarily disabilities — they’re different ways of experiencing, interpreting, and interacting with the world.
The ADHD Foundation notes that ADHD often includes sensory regulation differences similar to autism, while the Dyspraxia Foundation describes dyspraxia as a sensory-motor difference that affects coordination and body awareness.
Differences in sensory processing can affect everyday activities: eating, sleeping, wearing clothes, or simply existing in certain environments. Lighting, temperature, the texture of fabrics, or the tag on a shirt can all make the difference between comfort and overwhelm. For some of us, the world just comes through a little louder, brighter, or sharper — and that can trigger real stress responses.
It’s also helped me understand some of my own choices. There may be more reasons than I realised for why I rarely wear makeup. Dyspraxia makes the task fiddly, but my skin is extremely sensitive — I’ve had allergic reactions to many products. I dislike the feeling of heavy foundation and am very particular about scents. Perfumes often make me feel nauseous, though I love the natural fragrance of flowers in my garden. Deodorants are always unscented for me — floral ones are unbearable.
Even my dyslexia now makes more sense through a sensory lens. The British Dyslexia Association explains that some forms involve visual stress, where the brain struggles to process fine detail or track words on a page. Using a green colour filter has reduced that strain enormously.
Dyspraxia, too, is a sensory-motor difference — about how my brain senses where my body is in space and controls its movement. Fine-motor tasks have always been difficult, which my husband affectionately uses as an excuse to say I “need more LEGO for coordination practice.”
And ADHD, in many ways, is also rooted in sensory processing — the brain’s way of managing stimulation, movement, and focus. It shares traits with autism, like difficulties with self-regulation, attention, and sensory filtering.
Understanding how these pieces connect has been liberating. It’s helped me see that I’m not broken or scattered — I’m wired differently. My brain and body are simply tuned to the world in a unique way.
When the Body and Brain Overlap
As I’ve learned more about Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits, I’ve started noticing patterns in my body that I never connected before. One of those involves my skin. I often find myself picking or scratching at the same small patches — the back of my neck and my right hand — where I also have psoriasis. These areas rarely heal completely.
When I began reading about stimming, I realised that these movements were part of it too. They weren’t just bad habits or nervous tics; they were ways my body tried to manage discomfort or stress. Unfortunately, constant scratching can make psoriasis worse. The Psoriasis Association describes something called the Koebner phenomenon, where repeated trauma to the skin can trigger or prolong flare-ups. It made sense — the very act of soothing myself might also be keeping those patches from healing.
Later, my therapist helped me notice quieter forms of stimming — the small, hidden ones that had always been there. Wriggling my toes, like feeling sand between them at the beach. Gently rocking when I’m deep in thought. Touching textured fabrics for comfort. These are all ways I self-regulate when box breathing or grounding exercises aren’t enough.
Each new discovery feels like uncovering another layer of understanding — a silent conversation between my body and mind. It’s teaching me that Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits aren’t just about how I perceive the world, but also how my body responds to it.
What I’ve Learned About Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits
Through this journey, I’ve learned that Sensory Processing and the Neurodiversity Traits are about far more than individual diagnoses. They reflect how each brain receives, filters, and responds to the world — through sound, sight, touch, taste, movement, and emotion.
Conditions like autism, ADHD, dyspraxia, and dyslexia often overlap, sharing traits such as sensory sensitivity, emotional intensity, and challenges with self-regulation. These aren’t faults or weaknesses — they’re different ways of experiencing and interacting with life.
The ADHD Foundation explains that ADHD often involves differences in sensory regulation, similar to those seen in autism. The Dyspraxia Foundation describes dyspraxia as a sensory-motor condition that affects coordination and body awareness. These insights helped me understand why small, everyday things — like noisy lights, scratchy fabrics, or a room that’s too warm — can feel so intense.
Differences in sensory processing can influence almost every aspect of daily life: eating, sleeping, concentrating, even deciding what to wear. Something as simple as a clothing label or strong perfume can turn comfort into distress. For many neurodivergent people, the world doesn’t just appear brighter or louder — it can be too much, too fast, all at once. Recognising this has helped me show myself more compassion.
There may also be more reasons than I realised for why I rarely wear makeup. Dyspraxia makes applying it fiddly, and my skin is sensitive to many products. I dislike the texture and the way it feels on my face. Perfume is another challenge — I find most floral scents overpowering, though I adore the natural fragrance of flowers in my garden. Even deodorants are always scent-free for me.
Looking at dyslexia through a sensory lens has been eye-opening too. The British Dyslexia Association explains that some forms involve visual stress, where the brain struggles to track or process written words. Since using a green colour filter, reading has become calmer, clearer, and less tiring — like turning down background noise I didn’t know was there.
Dyspraxia, meanwhile, affects how my brain senses where my body is in space and how it moves. Fine-motor tasks have always been a challenge, which my husband affectionately uses as an excuse to say I “need more LEGO for coordination practice.” And ADHD, at its core, often relates to how we sense and regulate the world around us — a balance between stimulation, attention, and emotion.
Understanding these patterns has been liberating. I trying to see myself as disorganised, clumsy, or overly emotional. I’m simply wired differently — a mind and body that experience the world in high definition.
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