Discovering My Sensory Rhythm: An AuDHD Woman’s Journey to Self-Understanding
By Teodora Byrne, 25 February 2026
Understanding Sensory Experiences as Connected, Not Separate
For much of my life, I understood my sensory experiences as isolated. Noise sensitivity here, a need for movement there, completely separate from each other.
What I’ve come to understand, both through lived experience and my work, is that sensory processing profiles don’t operate in isolation. They function in rhythm, responding to, compensating for and amplifying one another in real time. I have also come to truly understand how exhausting and debilitating these experiences can be without the right support in place.
Exploring my experience as an AuDHD woman through this lens has been quite transformative. It has allowed me to move away from self-surveillance and towards self-understanding which has not been an easy ride.
AuDHD as an Integrated System
For me, AuDHD isn’t two separate neurotypes pulling in opposite directions. It’s a synchronous, symbiotic system, an integrated sensory and attentional ecology that only makes sense when viewed as a whole.
My sensory processing shapes my attention, my attentional intensity magnifies sensory input, my regulation depends on movement, predictability, and sensory anchors and none of these elements work alone. They exist in constant dialogue.
Moving Beyond Fixed Sensory Models
This is where many sensory models fall short. Sensory processing profiles are often described as fixed, as if someone is simply sensitive to a certain input or seeking another. I wish it were that simple, however, I really believe that sensory experiences are relational. They shift depending on context, cumulative load and the availability of regulation.
What overwhelms me in one environment may be manageable in another. This doesn’t mean that particular sensitivity has changed, but the rhythm of the system has.
When Noise Disrupts the System
Noise is my most significant sensory stressor. It’s less about volume and more about layering, unpredictability, pitch and persistence. Sounds don’t fade into the background for me, especially if I am already overstimulated. They arrive simultaneously, each demanding processing whilst my brain feels itchy and looking for an escape.
To explain it in the context of relational experiences, noise doesn’t normally overwhelm me on its own. It overwhelms me when it arrives without enough sensory counterbalance. For instance, in environments where movement is restricted or where cognitive demands are high, noise tips my system out of rhythm quickly and I feel like my blood is boiling inside my veins. My capacity quickly dissipates, my ability to think straight becomes fragmented and communication becomes effortful.
From an inclusion perspective, noise is treated as a minor inconvenience rather than a structural barrier, but for neurodivergent systems like mine, unmanaged noise can fundamentally alter access, participation and wellbeing.
Movement as Regulation and Restoration
Movement is one of the primary ways my system restores rhythm. Movement provides proprioceptive feedback that helps integrate sensory input and stabilise my system. When I can move, my thoughts settle, my body feels more coherent and my tolerance for noise increases – well, up to a point!
If movement is restricted though, the opposite happens. Even in otherwise quiet environments, internal pressure builds because the system has no way to recalibrate.
This understanding has deeply informed my work and my personal life as a parent of three neurodivergent children, each with their own individual set of needs, triggers and wants. Many environments prioritise stillness as a marker of engagement or professionalism, without recognising how exclusionary that expectation can be. For me, movement isn’t optional support but fundamental infrastructure.
Sensory Anchors and the Power of Smell
Smell plays a subtler but equally important role for me. Familiar scents act as anchors since they ground me in the present moment and offer sensory stability when other inputs feel chaotic. Where noise pulls my attention outward, smell draws it back in. This is sensory modulation and a way of stabilising the wider system.
Small, intentional sensory anchors can dramatically increase capacity. Experiencing this in my own body has reinforced how often regulation is dismissed because it looks quiet or invisible from the outside.
Understanding My Sensory Profile as Rhythmic
Understanding my sensory profile as rhythmic rather than fragmented has shifted how I relate to myself.
I no longer see inconsistency or fluctuation as failure, nor do I chastise myself because of it anymore. I see information and signals from a nervous system responding to context.
Designing Inclusion from the Inside Out
As a Sensory Inclusion Facilitator and parent, I design environments with this relational understanding in mind. As an AuDHD woman, I’m learning to extend the same care inward.
This exploration has offered me permission to trust my sensory world, to name noise as harmful to me, to move and anchor without justification. Most importantly, it has reminded me that inclusion isn’t about managing parts of ourselves in isolation, but about honouring the rhythm of the whole system.
And for the first time or at least in a long time, that rhythm feels allowed.
