More Than Just a Comfy Chair (and Where Was ASI OT When I Was a Kid?!)

I love a good environmental adaptation as much as the next occupational therapist. Really, I do. Who doesn’t appreciate a well-placed weighted blanket, a wobble cushion, or a thoughtfully dimmed lamp that stops an entire nervous system from launching into overdrive?

But here’s the thing—not everything can be fixed with a bit of mood lighting 💡 and a bouncy chair 🪑.

Sometimes, a person’s struggles go beyond “Let’s change the chair” to “Let’s figure out what’s really going on.” No matter how many fidget widgets, noise-cancelling headphones, or carefully curated calm corners you introduce, if someone’s sensory system is fundamentally struggling, they need specialist assessment and 1:1 intervention.

And honestly? Where was ASI OT when I was growing up?! Because I needed sensory integration therapy. Sitting still was my absolute downfall, so I found my own ways to cope:

🥁 Playing the drums (proprioception and vibration—perfect for regulating my sensory system!).
🛠️ Making things (always fiddling, always creating, always covered in glue or playing with magic tape—skills that, it turns out, are genetically inherited, as Jem has taken on this special talent and elevated it with an impressive mastery of Post-it notes Lion’s Manes).
🚰 Playing with taps in chemistry (because water is fascinating, obviously).
🍬 Sucking and secretly eating Smarties (because self-regulation through sensory input is totally a thing).
🕸️ Stretching Pritt Stick into spiderwebs (art or science? You decide, but it was satisfying).
✏️ Covering my book margins and pencil case with doodles, patterns, and possibly my entire life story.

But here’s the difference—I was lucky.

I grew up with a “live outside” childhood in Cape Town, full of movement, fresh air, and sensory opportunities galore. There were swimming pools, bicycles, gardens, games of cricket, plus tree climbing, den building, and a school that required participation in both summer and winter sports.

Without knowing it, I was constantly getting the sensory input my body craved. Whether it was the vestibular joy of climbing trees, the proprioceptive push of swimming and cycling, or the coordinated chaos of cricket and team sports, I was moving, adapting, and learning.

And yet, despite all that, sitting still was still hard.

So imagine those who don’t get those same movement opportunities—who struggle with sensory integration but aren’t instinctively drawn to climbing trees or throwing themselves into sports.

Why Ayres Sensory Integration (ASI)?

Because it’s not just about tweaking the environment—it’s about helping people engage, move, and interact in ways that create lasting change.

Schaaf (2015) describes Ayres’ Sensory Integration therapy as:

“Active, individually tailored, sensory-motor activities, contextualised in play, at the just right challenge, that target adaptive responses, for participation, in activities and tasks.”

And really, that sums it up. It’s not just about sitting still—it’s about moving in ways that build skills.

🔹 Active 🤸‍♂️ —because learning doesn’t happen passively. If I’d been given structured movement opportunities, maybe I wouldn’t have turned my chemistry lesson into an unsanctioned water experiment.

🔹 Individually tailored 👩‍🦱 —because no two sensory systems are alike. I didn’t need to stop fidgeting; I needed movement built into my day so I could focus.

🔹 Sensory-motor activities 🏃‍♀️ —because motor planning, coordination, and sensory processing go hand in hand. If movement helps my brain process information better, why take it away?

🔹 Contextualized in play 🤹‍♀️—because fun is the best way to learn. You can bet I would have been all in for climbing, crashing, and drumming my way through my education.

🔹 Just right challenge 👍—because when something is too hard, you shut down; when it’s too easy, you check out. I needed tasks that pushed me just enough to engage without overwhelming me.

🔹 Targeting adaptive responses 🧘‍♀️—because coping strategies should help you engage more, not just survive the day. Carrying my overstuffed school bag was my way of seeking proprioception—but wouldn’t it have been better if I had learned movement strategies that actually supported my regulation?

🔹 For participation ⛹️‍♀️—because at the end of the day, it’s not about movement for movement’s sake. It’s about being able to do the things that matter—learning, socialising, playing, living.

The Bottom Line?

🔸 Adaptations make life easier—but they don’t teach skills.
🔸 Assessment finds the root of the problem—so we stop guessing.
🔸 1:1 intervention changes lives—because people need more than a well-placed beanbag.

So yes, let’s keep using those fabulous adaptations where they make sense, but let’s also make sure people get the right 1:1 support when they need it. Because while a well-placed sensory-friendly workspace can do wonders, sometimes, what’s really needed is targeted, specialist intervention to create real, lasting change.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find something to fidget with before I start reorganising my entire desk 🤪.

Warmly,
Kath