The term gets used a lot, but what does it actually mean? A SEN mum's plain-English explanation of how sensory differences work — and what they look like at home and at school.
I'm a parent, not a professional. Everything in this article is based on my own experience raising two neurodivergent children and on publicly available information from organisations including the National Autistic Society, NHS, and Royal College of Occupational Therapists. It is not medical advice. If you have concerns about your child's sensory needs, please speak to your GP or ask for a referral to a paediatric occupational therapist.
When Ella was first being assessed, I kept hearing the term "sensory processing disorder" and nodding along as if I understood it. I didn't, really. I understood the basics — she was sensitive to noise and textures — but the full picture took me a long time to piece together.
If you're at that same stage, this is the explanation I wish someone had given me.
Every single moment of your day, your brain is receiving information from your body and the world around you — from your eyes, ears, skin, muscles, and inner ear. Your brain has to sort through all of that input, decide what's relevant, and produce an appropriate response. That whole process is sensory processing.
For most people, it happens automatically and unconsciously. You tune out the hum of the fridge, you don't notice your clothes after the first few seconds of wearing them, you hear someone call your name across a noisy room. Your brain is filtering constantly, and most of the time it does it well enough that you never think about it.
For children with sensory processing differences, that filtering system works differently. It might be too sensitive — letting everything through at full intensity — or not sensitive enough, meaning the brain doesn't register input that would be obvious to other people.
"I remember Ella screaming on a sunny afternoon because the light through the car window was too much. To me, it was just a slightly bright day. To her, it was overwhelming. That's what sensory processing differences actually look like — not a tantrum, not bad behaviour. Just a nervous system that's genuinely struggling."
Here's something important to know, because it confused me for a long time: "sensory processing disorder" is not currently a standalone medical diagnosis in the UK. Berkshire Healthcare NHS Trust and other NHS services are clear that while the term is widely used, sensory processing difficulties are usually identified as part of another condition — most commonly autism, ADHD, or dyspraxia.
That doesn't mean the difficulties aren't real, or that support isn't available. It just means that if you go to your GP asking for an "SPD diagnosis," you might find that the system doesn't quite work that way. What you're more likely to get — and what's more useful — is a sensory assessment from an occupational therapist, who can identify your child's specific sensory profile and help you develop strategies to support them.
The term was developed from the work of occupational therapist Dr A. Jean Ayres in the 1970s, who called it "sensory integration dysfunction." Since then, "sensory processing disorder" has become the common everyday term, even if it doesn't appear as a formal diagnosis in the clinical manuals.
This was genuinely news to me when I first learned it. We're all taught about the five senses at school — sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell — but there are actually eight sensory systems that can be affected by processing differences:
Processing light, movement, colour and pattern. Sensitivity to bright or fluorescent lighting is very common in autistic children.
Processing sound — volume, pitch, unexpected noise. This is one of the most commonly discussed sensory differences in autism and ADHD.
Processing touch — textures, pressure, temperature, pain. Children may resist certain fabrics, hate having their hair cut, or not notice they've been hurt.
Processing smell. Strong smells that others barely notice can be overwhelming — or some children may not register them much at all.
Processing taste and oral sensation. Connects closely to texture sensitivity. Children with hypersensitivity here often have very restricted diets.
The inner ear's sense of balance and movement. Children who love spinning, rocking or swinging — or get dizzy and distressed by movement — are processing vestibular input differently.
The body's internal sense of where it is in space. Children with differences here may seem clumsy, crash into things, or crave heavy physical input like squeezing and pressure.
Internal body signals — hunger, thirst, temperature, needing the toilet. Differences here mean children may not recognise these signals reliably, which affects everything from eating to toilet training.
Based on information from NHS Barnsley Hospital and the National Autistic Society's guidance on sensory processing.
Within each of those eight senses, a child can be hypersensitive (over-responsive) or hyposensitive (under-responsive). According to NHS guidance, this means:
And here's the thing that took me a while to understand properly: a child can be hypersensitive in one area and hyposensitive in another. The National Autistic Society is clear that mixed sensory experiences across different senses are very common. Ella is hypersensitive to sound and light, but hyposensitive in some aspects of proprioception — she craves heavy input and deep pressure at the same time as she's overwhelmed by noise. If you want to understand more about what happens when that overload tips over, our guide to sensory overload goes into the signs and strategies in detail.
This is why you can't just say "my child is sensory sensitive" and leave it there. Sensory profiles are complicated, and they're different for every child. It's also why what works for one child can be completely wrong for another — even two children with the same diagnosis.
This is where I find the clinical descriptions a bit thin. Let me translate some of what sensory processing differences look like when you're actually living with them.
Auditory hypersensitivity might mean your child covers their ears at sounds that seem normal to you — the hand dryer in a public toilet, a crowd at a school assembly, someone eating nearby. It might mean they can't filter out background noise, so learning in a busy classroom is exhausting even when nothing sounds particularly loud. Noise that other children ignore or don't notice may register for them as genuinely painful.
Tactile hypersensitivity might mean refusing to wear certain clothes, struggling with tags and seams, finding hair brushing or cutting distressing. Unexpected touch — even a gentle tap on the shoulder — can feel shocking. It might also affect what foods they'll eat, since texture is processed through the same system.
Vestibular hyposensitivity might look like a child who never seems to get dizzy, who seeks out spinning and swinging for long periods, who's always on the move. It might look like what gets labelled as hyperactivity.
Proprioceptive hyposensitivity might mean a child who bumps into things, who hugs too hard, who crashes into the sofa rather than sitting down. Their body is asking for more input, and they're providing it in the ways available to them.
"Jude's hyposensitivity looked like naughtiness for years. He was always bouncing off walls, literally. Once we understood that his body was seeking proprioceptive input, we could give him appropriate tools for it — a trampoline, a wobble cushion — and the 'difficult' behaviour almost halved. He wasn't being naughty. He was self-regulating the only way he knew how."
Sensory processing differences are most commonly associated with autism — the DSM-5 (the main diagnostic manual) includes sensory differences as a core feature of autism diagnosis. But they're also very common in ADHD, dyspraxia (developmental coordination disorder), and various other conditions. And they can occur in children who don't have any formal diagnosis at all.
The label matters less than you might think when it comes to day-to-day support. What matters is understanding your child's specific sensory profile — what overwhelms them, what they seek, and what helps them regulate. That's true whether they have an EHCP, an autism diagnosis, an ADHD diagnosis, or no diagnosis yet.
You don't need a diagnosis to get occupational therapy support. Your GP can refer your child for an OT assessment based on observed difficulties, regardless of diagnosis. Your child's school SENCO may also be able to help you access support.
The honest answer is: quite a lot, and none of it requires a diagnosis to start.
Observe carefully. Keep a note of when your child struggles — what environment they're in, what sensory inputs are present, what time of day it is. Patterns emerge over time, and they're incredibly useful when you do speak to a professional.
Reduce unnecessary inputs. You can't always prevent your child from encountering difficult sensory environments, but you can reduce the load at home. Dimmer switches, less visual clutter, soft clothing without tags, consistent routines — these don't cost much and make a real difference.
Meet sensory needs proactively. For sensory-seeking children especially, giving them appropriate outlets for the input they need (a trampoline, a fidget tool, a wobble cushion) can dramatically reduce the behaviour that comes from an unmet sensory need.
Seek an OT assessment. This is the most important step if you can access it. A paediatric occupational therapist can properly assess your child's sensory profile and develop a support plan. Ask your GP for a referral, or speak to your school's SENCO about what's available locally.
There are also some tools — products — that can make a real difference while you're waiting for assessments or working between appointments. That's what the reviews on Sensory Sorted are for.
A few things that commonly come up when I talk to other SEN parents about SPD.