Find Out About Sensory Integration Training
Transform your practice and qualify as a Sensory Integration Practitioner
By Hannah Ross, 7 April 2026

When I started the PGCert in Sensory Integration, I was focused on becoming a better clinician. I didn’t expect it to fundamentally change how I understand myself.
My initial motivation was professional. I wanted to progress my career, deepen my knowledge and build skills I could take into future practice. I began with a sensory integration preceptorship offered by the organisation I worked for, with the PGCert a natural next step. I approached the course with a clinical lens - with no consideration of how it might relate to my own identity.
A pivotal moment came during a conversation with a student Occupational Therapist. We were discussing sensory modulation and autism and something suddenly clicked. I recognised myself as we talked, particularly in how I would become overwhelmed in busy environments like supermarkets at the weekend, eventually shutting down and becoming unable to verbally communicate until I could leave. What I had always framed as “just getting stressed” began to make sense in a completely different way.
Even then, it took time before I began the diagnostic process. I questioned whether I was overinterpreting what I had learned or trying to make the theory fit my own experiences. However, after completing multiple screening tools indicating a high likelihood of autism, I spoke to my GP and requested an assessment through Right to Choose. I was halfway through the second module of the PGCert when I received my diagnosis.
When I started the PGCert in Sensory Integration, I was focused on becoming a better clinician. I didn’t expect it to fundamentally change how I understand myself.
Being told I was autistic brought an overwhelming sense of relief. For the first time, I had an explanation for why I had always felt different. It allowed me to reflect on my life with more acceptance, understanding and compassion. The knowledge I had gained through the course became deeply personal, helping me recognise patterns of sensory overwhelm and advocate for my needs.
The journey was not without its challenges. Receiving my diagnosis partway through the course was a significant shift in my identity, alongside the demands of full-time work, part-time study and family life. I experienced a change in how I coped, as though I could no longer push through in the same way now I understood myself better.
My sensory sensitivities became more pronounced, and I began using supports, such as ear defenders, in environments I had previously pushed through. This brought feelings of shame and self-doubt and I questioned why I now needed adjustments I had once managed without. With support from other autistic colleagues and psychoeducation from the diagnostic service, I was able to reframe this as increased self-awareness rather than failure.
The knowledge I had gained through the course became deeply personal, helping me recognise patterns of sensory overwhelm and advocate for my needs.
This shift has had a profound impact on my professional practice. I now place strong emphasis on validating sensory experiences and adapting environments rather than trying to “fix” the individual. Where appropriate, I draw on lived experience to inform my clinical reasoning and build connection.
For other autistic individuals considering exploring their sensory differences or undertaking further study, I would say this: just because you have always “managed” does not mean you do not deserve to make life easier for yourself. The world is not designed with us in mind, and you are allowed to find what works for you and to show up authentically. There is also immense value in lived experience within clinical practice. It can deepen empathy, strengthen connection, and enhance the support we provide.
While the journey can be demanding, the learning, both professional and personal, can be truly transformative.