Make it make sense! Honouring Sensory Needs in Intimate Settings

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I am writing this from the Great Barrier Reef where I have spent the last four days doing a mixture of swimming with sea turtles and enjoying the East Australian sun. I am about half way through my fellowship and this excursion has given me the time to reflect on my learnings so far. During my work with organisations across Adelaide, Melbourne, Gippsland and Sydney a theme that keeps resurfacing is the centrality of sensory needs in the intimate lives of people with intellectual disabilities (PWID). It feels obvious, yet it remains largely absent from mainstream sex education that if we ignore the sensory body, we miss a fundamental part of how people experience pleasure, safety and connection.

At Thrive Rehab in Melbourne, occupational therapists recognise that PWID often experience the external world differently to neurotypical people, with everyday noises intolerably loud, certain materials unbearable to wear, and small changes in temperatures intensely felt. Thrive are committed to honouring the nervous system as a key component of sexual wellbeing. Sophie (Occupational Therapist at Thrive Rehab) introduced me to how the team use sensory profiling to help PWID understand how their body responds to different stimuli—what fills their cup, what drains it, and what tips it over. This can then be translated into a personalised “sex menu” for someone to use with a partner or sex worker to shape sexual experiences that align with their sensory needs. For example, someone who is easily overstimulated may prefer soft lighting or fewer forms of touch at once, while someone who becomes under-stimulated might benefit from music, scent or increased pressure to hold them in the space. It’s a refreshing shift away from assuming that intimacy should look or feel the same for everyone.

A striking part of these conversations has been the extent to which many PWID have been gaslit to distrust their own sensory experiences. Caregivers and professionals, often inadvertently, invalidate what someone’s body is telling them: “you can’t still be hungry”, “you’re not cold, put on a jumper”. Over time, this can condition people to ignore their internal signals meaning it becomes harder to identify what feels good or what they want to change. This erosion of bodily trust makes sexual self-determination incredibly difficult.

At the Spark conference in Adelaide, Alysha (Disability Educator from Sexual Health Quarters) expanded my thinking beyond the five senses we typically default to. They spoke about interoception (internal bodily awareness), proprioception (sense of the body in space) and the vestibular system (balance and movement) as systems that meaningfully shape sexual experience. For example, some people need time and cues throughout the day to get into a sexual headspace, particularly if their body needs time to regulate internal emotional states. Others might require specific equipment, like hoists or weighted blankets, to feel grounded and connected enough to be intimate. Scent and taste can support or completely derail erotic focus and so oils can be beneficial to kick-start the sexual ritual, or flavoured lubes to avoid overly potent tastes. The wrong temperature can easily tip over one’s cup so hot wax or ice play can heighten or numb sensations according. It was striking to witness so many professionals working within the disability/sexuality space be so attuned to the possible physical needs of the PWID that they are working with.

This lens also reframes what is often labelled “problematic sexual behaviour”. Ally (Occupational Therapy at Thrive Rehab) implores that professionals reject the idea of sexual ‘inappropriateness’ instead recognising that much of what is considered 'inappropriate sexual behaviour' often has other causes.  Frequent masturbation in residential settings tends to trigger a referral or behavioural plan, yet rarely do people stop to ask why it’s happening. It could be sensory seeking, boredom, self-soothing, hormonal changes, medication side effects, or simply the only available form of bodily autonomy in a context where personal agency is limited. When someone doesn’t have the language to express a need, the behaviour becomes the language. It says more about our discomfort with the sexuality of PWID than it does about the behaviour itself when the first response is to pathologise rather than enquire.

I have also found the discussion linking neurodivergent sensory needs and kink fascinating. Charlie (Relationships Coordinator at Wandering Wattle) spoke about how BDSM practices can offer structure, clarity and sensory regulation for neurodivergent people. Techniques used in consensual power play often work with the senses to provide sexual pleasure; blindfolds can reduce visual overwhelm, different forms of pressure or restraint can help with nervous system regulation, and safe words offer clear, explicit boundaries that don’t rely on subtle social cues, something that PWID can often struggle to interpret. The Sub/Dom dynamic can eliminate decision paralysis and demand avoidance, leaving participants free to play within structured paradigms without judgement, furry kinks give permission for relapsing into the non-verbal in a world that rarely tolerates perceived non-engagement. For individuals who are often either infantilised or pathologised as perverse, kink can provide a space to co-create sexual scripts that work for individual brains and bodies. Maddy (Peer educator from the EmpowerEd project run by Gippsland Centre Against Sexual Assault) spoke on my upcoming podcast about re-navigating intimacy after her autism and ADHD diagnosis and how she has been doing just this kind of script rewriting with her husband (also AuADHD).

In Sydney, Dr Rosalie Power (Research Fellow at Western Sydney University) made a point that has stayed with me: sex education for PWID is heavily weighted towards avoiding harm, pleasing others, and meeting social expectations, but gives very little attention to helping people understand what actually feels right for them. We focus so much on consent framed as not violating someone else’s boundaries that we forget consent also requires knowing our own. Building this requires embodied work, reconnecting with the body—listening to what feels okay, what doesn’t, and what might need to change. Everyday we navigate this within ourselves and everyday we silence it. Sometimes this is necessary and pragmatic to get work done, and it is often not possible to meet everyone’s sensory needs in each important work meeting, however when we compromise on our own needs we should be aware of silencing our body's needs and the possible toll this might take. This awareness can help us prepare the body for these possibly exhausting and unpleasant experiences, and understand what is too much for us to take on when we have the capacity to do so. 

The more I learn, the more evident it becomes that sensory needs are not a niche consideration only relevant to a small group. They fundamentally challenge the idea that there is a “standard” way to experience intimacy. Once we accept that bodies process the world differently, it becomes impossible to justify a one-size-fits-all approach to sex education. Sensory-informed sexual education isn’t an add-on—it’s a prerequisite for genuine sexual agency.

Easy English Version Below:

Sensory Needs and Intimacy

Reflections from the Great Barrier Reef

I am writing this from the Great Barrier Reef. I have spent the last four days swimming with sea turtles and enjoying the sunshine in East Australia.

I am now halfway through my Churchill Fellowship. This break has given me time to think about what I have learnedso far.

Across my visits to Adelaide, Melbourne, Gippsland and Sydney, one idea keeps coming up:

Sensory needs are very important for the intimate lives of people with intellectual disabilities (PWID) and neurodivergent people.

If we ignore the sensory body, we miss a key part of how people feel pleasure, safety, connection and overwhelm.

Understanding Sensory Needs

At Thrive Rehab in Melbourne, occupational therapists explained that many PWID experience the world differently. For example, some people may find:

  • everyday noises too loud

  • certain clothes uncomfortable

  • small changes in temperature very strong

Thrive Rehab believes that the nervous system (how the body reacts to the world) is an important part of sexual wellbeing.

Sophie, an occupational therapist, showed me how they use sensory profiling. This helps a person learn:

  • what feels good for their body

  • what makes them tired

  • what makes them overwhelmed

They then use this to create a personal “sex menu”. This is a guide a person can use with a partner or sex worker to shape sexual experiences that match their sensory needs.

This means intimacy does not have to look the same for everyone. For example:

  • A person who gets overwhelmed easily may want soft lighting or fewer types of touch.

  • A person who needs more sensory input may enjoy music, scent, or firmer touch.

Trusting the Body

Many PWID have been taught to ignore their own body signals. Carers and professionals sometimes say things like:

  • “You can’t still be hungry.”

  • “You’re not cold, put on a jumper.”

Over time, people learn to distrust their own body. This makes it much harder to know what feels good or what they want to change in intimate moments.

If someone cannot trust their body, it becomes harder to make sexual choices or express their needs.

More Than Five Senses

At the Spark conference in Adelaide, Alysha from Sexual Health Quarters reminded us that we have more than five senses. Some important senses for intimacy include:

  • Interoception (awareness of what is happening inside the body, like hunger or emotions)

  • Proprioception (knowing where the body is in space)

  • Vestibular sense (balance and movement)

These senses can shape sexual experiences. For example:

  • Some people need time during the day to prepare their body and mind before intimacy.

  • Some people need equipment, such as a hoist or a weighted blanket, to feel safe and grounded.

  • Scents and tastes can help or distract a person. Oils or flavoured lubes may help.

  • Temperature can affect comfort. Warm or cold sensations may help someone feel more or less present.

This is not about trying “new tricks”. It is about comfort, regulation, consent and being fully present.

Rethinking “Problem Behaviour”

Ally, from Thrive Rehab, said we need to stop calling behaviour “sexual inappropriateness” without understanding the cause.

For example, if someone masturbates a lot in a shared home, the first response is often a behaviour plan. But we should ask why it is happening. It may be:

  • sensory seeking

  • boredom

  • self-soothing

  • hormones

  • side effects of medicine

  • the only private form of control someone has

When someone cannot express a need with words, behaviour becomes their language.

Often, the problem is not the behaviour — it is other people’s discomfort about PWID having sexuality.

Sensory Needs and Kink

I also learned something new about neurodivergent sensory needs and kink.

Charlie, from Wandering Wattle, said that some people find that BDSM can:

  • create structure and clear rules

  • support sensory needs

  • help the nervous system feel regulated

For example:

  • a blindfold can reduce too much visual input

  • firm touch or safe restraint can calm the body

  • safewords give clear communication without guessing

  • clear roles (Dominant/submissive) can reduce stress about decision-making

For some neurodivergent people, kink can provide a safe space to explore intimacy in ways that suit their minds and bodies.

Maddy, a peer educator from the EmpowerEd program in Gippsland, told me on my podcast that after being diagnosed with autism and ADHD, she and her husband are creating new sexual scripts that work for both of them.

Learning What Feels Right

In Sydney, Dr Rosalie Power from Western Sydney University said something that stayed with me:

Sex education for PWID often focuses on:

  • not causing harm

  • pleasing others

  • following social rules

But it rarely teaches people to know what feels right for their own body.

Consent is not only about respecting someone else’s boundaries — it is also about knowing our own boundaries.

This requires reconnecting with the body and learning to listen to it.

Everyday Sensory Needs

Every day, we manage our sensory needs.
Often we ignore our body because we must work, be in meetings or focus on tasks.

Sometimes this is needed, but it can be exhausting.
We should notice the cost to our body and learn when we are shutting down our needs.

This helps us prepare for difficult situations and understand our limits, so we can take part fully when we have the energy and protect ourselves when we don’t.

Why This Matters

The more I learn, the clearer it becomes that sensory needs affect many people, not just a few.

This challenges the idea that there is a “normal” way to experience intimacy.

Once we accept that bodies experience the world differently, we cannot use a one-size-fits-all approach to sex education.

Sensory-informed sex education is not optional — it is necessary for real sexual choice and control.


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