If you're Autistic - especially if you're early on in your understanding, I urge you to read this even if it seems less relevant or interesting.
Being human is, at its core, a sensory experience. For Autistic people, this experience is often more intense, more vivid, and more impactful. But what do we actually mean when we talk about sensory experiences or a sensory profile? Most people are familiar with the five classic senses — taste, sight, hearing, smell, and touch [add medical terms to slide – olfactory, visual, etc]. You probably already have a sense of which of these can upset you most when you’re stressed — perhaps noise at the supermarket, someone wanting to hug you when you’re overwhelmed, the smell of certain foods, bright sunlight, or the taste and texture of broccoli. You might also know which senses often bring you joy: the smell of lavender, the feeling of climbing into a bed with fresh sheets, the soothing sound of waves, the taste of chocolate, or watching a sunset. What brings one person pleasure can completely overwhelm another — your sensory profile is entirely unique to you. It’s shaped by both positive and negative experiences throughout your life. Understanding your sensory profile can help you identify and reduce sensory stressors, while also incorporating more sensory pleasures into your daily life. For Autistic people, this is especially important because our sensory experiences play a huge role in regulating (or dysregulating) our nervous system.
In addition to the traditional five senses, three more sensory systems are especially relevant for Autistic people: the vestibular, proprioceptive, and interoceptive systems.
These two systems — vestibular and proprioceptive — are powerful when it comes to regulation. That’s why activities such as using a weighted blanket, doing gentle exercise, or even rocking can help us feel calmer and more balanced: they provide the body with predictable sensory input that supports regulation.
Interoception also links closely to our emotional awareness. If combined with alexithymia (difficulty identifying and describing emotions), it can make it hard to tell when a stomach ache is actually anxiety, or when tension in the shoulders signals stress. In our session, we can explore how these systems interact and how to better support and regulate them in everyday life.
Just as every sensory profile is unique, so is every sensory threshold. Some of us are hyperresponsive (more sensitive to sensory input), while others are hyporesponsive (less sensitive or slower to respond). Our responsiveness — like our interoception or emotional awareness — can be shaped by life experiences.
If we grew up being told when we could eat, when we could use the toilet, or that our emotions were “too much,” we may have learned to suppress or disconnect from our body’s signals. Likewise, being told we were “too sensitive” might have led us to shut down our awareness of sensory discomfort — or, conversely, to become even more sensitive because we were never taught how to respond compassionately to our own needs. Over time, this can lead to chronic dysregulation — being stuck in a constant loop of stress and exhaustion.
When our sensory needs are ignored — by ourselves or others — we often move through the familiar stress responses: fight, flight, freeze, fawn, or flop.
Sometimes we don’t even notice this happening. Cognitively, we might think we’re fine — but our body keeps the score. For example, a child constantly surrounded by noise in a classroom may “get used to it” but still come home utterly drained, leading to meltdowns. The same can happen in the workplace: we might rationalise the stress, mask through it, and seem functional — yet our body remains overwhelmed and dysregulated underneath the surface.
When we enter fight, flight, freeze, or flop, our thinking brain (the part responsible for logic and planning) gets less activation. That’s why, when we’re highly stressed, it’s hard to think clearly or remember what helps us regulate. A practical hack is to create a sensory toolkit — a list or box of sensory supports you can turn to when stressed. This might include:
It can also be helpful to have someone you trust aid you, who can gently point out when you’re showing signs of dysregulation — such as nail biting, leg shaking, or zoning out — and remind you to use your sensory supports.
Our sensory traits can be both strengths and challenges. For example, keen visual attention might make you excellent at detail-oriented work — but also prone to overstimulation in busy environments, such as the commute home. Our sensory profile also changes over time and with experience. Many newly identified Autistic people notice they’ve become less tolerant of sensory discomfort after learning they’re Autistic. One theory is that once you understand your needs, you can’t “unsee” them — and as you learn to take better care of yourself, you become less willing (and less able) to tolerate chronic stressors. This isn’t regression — it’s self-connection and self-advocacy.
Now that we’ve covered the basics of what a sensory profile is, let’s bring it to life — because understanding it isn’t just theoretical. It’s deeply practical and shows up in your everyday experiences. Think of your sensory profile as a volume dial. For many people, this dial resets overnight. They wake up refreshed, their sensory system calm and ready for the day. But for many Autistic people, the dial doesn’t reset quite so easily. Imagine waking up to your alarm going off. You’re groggy after a stressful dream, your heart and mind already racing, your skin clammy under the covers.
Before you’ve even opened your eyes, your dial is already turned up to 10%. The alarm blares — a harsh, unwelcome sound that nudges the dial higher.
You pull off the covers; your body registers the temperature shift, even if your mind doesn’t.
Your feet hit the floor — maybe soft carpet, maybe cold tiles — another sensory transition.
You turn on the shower. Whether you love or hate it, your body has to readjust to the sensation of water hitting your skin. Minutes later, you’re rubbing yourself dry with a towel: another texture, another shift.
Then comes brushing your teeth — the strong minty taste, the foamy texture, the repetitive movement — mildly unpleasant but necessary, so you push through. You step into the kitchen. Bright sunlight floods the room — or perhaps it’s still dark outside, and the artificial light stings your eyes. The dial edges up again.
More sensations follow: clothes against your skin, the warmth of your morning cuppa, the chatter or footsteps of others in the house. Nothing unusual. Nothing dramatic. Just an ordinary morning — one you’ve lived a thousand times. But your sensory system has been working hard since before you woke up. Then, something small happens. You can’t find your keys. You hit traffic. The lift at work is broken, and you have to climb several flights of stairs. Suddenly, you snap. You lose your temper, burst into tears, or shut down completely. It feels like it came out of nowhere — but it didn’t.
Your sensory dial has been turning up, little by little, until it reached capacity. And along the way, you’ve also moved through constant transitions — from sleep to awake, from being at home to being outside, to being alone to being surrounded by people — which can be especially taxing for the Autistic brain.
That’s why understanding your sensory profile matters. It helps you recognise the moments when your dial starts climbing — and find ways to turn it back down. Maybe that means wearing lighter or heavier pyjamas or changing your duvet for temperature contol, or using blackout curtains (or curtains that shift with the light).
Perhaps you switch to a gentler alarm, like classical music, and keep soft slippers by your bed.
If showers are overstimulating, you might move them to the evening or take them every other day.
You can even buy flavoured toothpaste or pair toothbrushing with something pleasant, like your favourite podcast. Understanding what triggers your sensory profile — even in small ways — can help you reduce or prevent overload. Equally important, learning what soothes you allows you to intentionally add more of those comforting elements to your daily routine to turn the dial down a little, step by step. Over time, this awareness becomes a form of self-compassion: a way of listening to your body, understanding its limits, and gently supporting yourself before overwhelm hits.
Getting to know your sensory profile can feel overwhelming at first, but it can also be joyful — a process of dating yourself, rediscovering what feels good, and rewriting your own manual. It’s a chance to create an updated, truer version of yourself — one that honours your body, your senses, and your needs, without apology.
The Autistic sensory profile is a vast topic, and it's impossible to cover it all in a single blog post. But, next steps might include asking yourself these questions to further your self-investigation (or dating) ;-)
You can also brainstorm ideas for creating a personalised sensory toolkit to support your regulation and wellbeing. If you feel lost, you can ask AI, use an online forum to explore this, or ask any neurodivergent friends you have for inspiration. I tend to learn so much more from asking others and hearing their answers, even if they're not my answers, than from reflecting on my own.
You can also pay for assistance and book a session with a (neurodivergent and neuroaffirmative) occupational therapist who has specific tools to work out your sensory profile with you.
I hope you found this helpful! Feel free to comment with any insights that might inspire others <3 And you're, of course, welcome to book a session with me too, if you want to know and explore more ;-)
May the day be kind to you!