Why Neurobiology Matters in Understanding Autistic Sensory Experience

Autistic brains process sensory input differently at a neurological level. Kate Coldrick explores how this affects therapy, education, and inclusive practice.

When we talk about autism and support, debates often swing between two extremes. On one side, interventions such as CBT, DBT, or exposure therapies are sometimes applied as though autistic and non-autistic brains were identical. On the other, some people argue that neuroaffirmative perspectives risk rejecting these interventions altogether, viewing them as invalid or even harmful.

Both approaches risk overlooking something crucial: the neurobiology of autistic sensory experience. Research consistently shows that autistic brains process sensory input differently. These differences are not simply a matter of preference, but reflect measurable variations in brain structure, connectivity, and neurochemistry. Understanding this is key to shaping more effective and respectful practice in both therapy and education.

The Neurobiology of Sensory Differences

1) Structure and long-range wiring

Think of the brain as a city.

Grey matter = the busy neighbourhoods where work gets done.
White matter = the roads and train lines connecting those neighbourhoods.

In autism, some hubs in this network are less central (Balardin et al., 2015). This means messages may take less direct routes, making tasks slower or less efficient.

Connections between touch, vision, and emotion can also work differently. For example:

Lower quality pathways between touch and emotion areas are linked with tactile defensiveness (everyday touch feels overwhelming).
The splenium, which helps the two brain halves communicate, is linked to attention-shifting. Differences here can make it harder to move focus quickly in busy environments (Pryweller et al., 2014).

Some of these features are also found in parents of autistic children, suggesting they are partly familial traits (Peterson et al., 2006).

Why this matters

In classrooms, a child may struggle to switch tasks or cope with crowded spaces.
In therapy, moving between activities can feel effortful, and touch-based exercises may be overwhelming.

What helps

Education: break tasks into clear, visual steps; reduce unexpected touch; allow space choices.
Therapy: preview session activities; minimise tactile demands if aversive; use short, focused segments with clear transitions.

2) Functional connectivity and development

Brain regions don’t just work in isolation – they need to coordinate. In autism, this coordination looks different depending on age:

Younger children may show extra connectivity, meaning brain regions are over-linked.
Adolescents and adults tend to show reduced long-range connectivity, making it harder for distant regions to work together (Uddin et al., 2013).

Overall, autistic brains seem to rely on local links (strong nearby connections) but have weaker “motorways” between distant regions (Rane et al., 2015; Belmonte et al., 2004).

Why this matters

In classrooms, younger children may appear hyper-reactive, noticing too much at once; older students may struggle to combine instructions, writing, and discussion.
In therapy, younger children may latch onto small details; older clients may find multi-step strategies (like CBT thought records) more challenging.

What helps

Education: keep instructions uncluttered, one step at a time; provide multimodal supports.
Therapy: simplify tasks, avoid overload by introducing strategies gradually, and check comprehension often.

3) Salience and sensory over-responsivity

The brain has a “salience network” that decides what deserves attention. In autism, this network can tag everyday sensations as unusually important. Mild sounds or light touches may trigger very strong brain responses (Green et al., 2016).

Why this matters

In classrooms, background noise or flickering lights may dominate attention.
In therapy, a minor tactile or auditory distraction can derail the session, leaving little energy for core tasks.

What helps

Education: reduce sensory clutter (e.g. buzzing lights, scraping chairs); provide quiet breakout areas.
Therapy: integrate sensory coping tools into sessions (headphones, weighted items, movement breaks); co-regulate when stress escalates.

4) Inhibitory control in touch

The touch system relies on inhibition – the brain’s way of filtering out unnecessary signals. Studies suggest autistic children may have weaker inhibition here (Puts et al., 2014).

Why this matters

In classrooms, clothing seams or repetitive textures may stay irritating instead of fading into the background.
In therapy, hands-on activities (like handwriting, playdough, or messy play) can remain uncomfortable, even when repeated.

What helps

Education: remove labels, use softer fabrics, and respect a child’s wish to avoid certain materials.
Therapy: adapt activities to reduce tactile load; allow gloves, tools, or alternatives if direct touch is difficult.

5) Multisensory integration and timing

The brain normally combines sight, sound, and touch into a single picture. In autism, this integration is often less efficient (Brandwein et al., 2013).

Timing is especially important. Autistic people often have a wider “temporal binding window” – treating sounds and sights as simultaneous even when slightly out of sync (Stevenson et al., 2014; Foxe et al., 2015; Noel et al., 2018).

Why this matters

In classrooms, listening in noisy environments or following speech with visual cues can be much harder.
In therapy, activities relying on synchronising sight and sound (like speech-reading or social role-play) may require more effort.

What helps

Education: reduce background noise during instructions; combine speech with clear visuals; give extra response time.
Therapy: use visual scaffolds, simplify social role-play tasks, and pace interactions carefully.

6) Neurochemistry and balance

The brain relies on a balance of “go” (excitatory) and “stop” (inhibitory) signals. In autism, this balance can be shifted.

GABA, the main inhibitory chemical, is reduced in some areas, meaning less filtering of sensory input (Robertson et al., 2016).
Glutamate, an excitatory chemical, may also function differently; studies show autistic and non-autistic adults respond differently to substances like cannabidiol (Pretzsch et al., 2019).
The autonomic nervous system (fight-or-flight) also shows differences, explaining why sensory overload can quickly escalate into shutdowns or meltdowns (Cheshire, 2012).

Why this matters

In classrooms, sensory stress may build into visible distress or withdrawal.
In therapy, sessions that demand sustained attention or emotional processing may trigger rapid overload.

What helps

Education: allow recovery time after stressful events; use calming strategies (movement, weighted items).
Therapy: respect early overload signs, adjust pace, and build in regulation tools alongside therapeutic work.

Implications for Therapy and Education

Evidence-based therapies and teaching strategies can be effective for autistic people, but only if adapted to sensory and neurological realities. Risks arise when interventions are:

Applied without adjustment, assuming identical brain function.
Rejected wholesale, removing potentially useful tools.

For example:

In therapy, exposure hierarchies may backfire if they ignore sensory overload.
In classrooms, mindfulness sessions may increase stress if they heighten awareness of overwhelming sensations.
Across both contexts, cognitive strategies can fail if language processing or attention differences are not considered.

The most productive approach lies in the “missing middle” – adapting support to be both psychologically and neurobiologically informed.

Takeaway for Parents, Teachers, and Therapists

✔ Listen first – sensory experiences differ across individuals.
✔ Adapt flexibly – tailor supports to thresholds and processing styles.
✔ Respect biology – calm for one nervous system may not be calm for another.
✔ Avoid rigid binaries – neither imposing nor banning therapies or strategies supports autistic wellbeing.

By bridging research and lived experience, we can design supports that are flexible, respectful, and effective. Neurobiology doesn’t replace autistic voices – instead, it reinforces what those voices have long been saying.

Written by Kate Coldrick, literacy tutor, educational writer, and neurodiversity consultant. For more resources, visit katecoldrick.com

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Written by Kate Coldrick, an educator and writer based in Woodbury near Exeter.