The Sensory Obsession with Dr Lynette Louise

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If you’re the parent of a neurodivergent child, you’ve likely heard a lot about “sensory issues.” I know I have. I was told my child needed to tolerate certain textures to heal their sensory system, or that they had to be perfectly regulated before they could learn. This well-intentioned advice often left me feeling pressured, confused, and focused on fixing isolated behaviors—and I feared I was missing the bigger picture of my child’s growth and well-being.

It wasn't until I had a clarifying discussion with Dr. Lynette Louise, a renowned expert and mentor, that I found a more balanced and effective perspective.

I Was Misinterpreting Sensory Struggles

I used to automatically label my child covering their ears or avoiding certain textures as purely “sensory.” But Dr. Louise helped me see that sometimes, the behavior was a response to something else entirely—like stress, confusion, or the way I was communicating.

She explained that a child covering their ears might not just be sensitive to sound; they might be overwhelmed by a flood of commands. When I assumed it was always “sensory overload,” I risked missing the real trigger. Now, I’ve learned to pause and observe carefully: What part am I playing in this? Is it the environment, or is it the way we’re connecting?

I Learned That Healing Doesn’t Happen in a Box

I was given so many lists of sensory activities—swings, sand, shaving cream—as must-dos for healing. But I found that when I focused too narrowly on one tool or one goal, like making my child walk on sand, I turned our time together into a chore. The swing became a task, the sand became a struggle, and our stress levels rose—which, as Dr. Louise pointed out, ironically worsens the very sensory system we’re trying to calm.

She helped me understand that real progress happens when I combine learning and comfort. Instead of forcing my child to endure an unpleasant sensation, I start where they feel safe. If they hate dry sand but like wet sand, we begin there. If they love water play, we use that. Learning words like “splash” or “wave” while playing in water integrates regulation and development naturally, without the battle.

I Stopped Trying to Regulate First, Then Learn

I had absorbed the popular idea that my child needed to be “regulated” before they could learn. But Dr. Louise challenged this separation for me. True regulation isn’t a prerequisite—it’s part of the process.

She gave me a powerful example: asking a child to sit still at a table while they’re physically uncomfortable might help them recite words, but it won’t help them communicate in real life. They’re just enduring discomfort to get the task over with. I’ve seen that real, generalized learning happens for my child when they are engaged and comfortable—not when they’re forced to suppress their needs.

I Had to Acknowledge My Own Regulation

As a parent, I have sensory and emotional limits, too. When I’m overextended, impatient, or anxious, my child feels it. Dr. Louise encouraged me to practice self-awareness: to notice when I’m reaching my limit—that “tingly anxiety”—and to pause before I react. By honoring my own need for regulation, I not only protect my well-being but also model emotional resilience for my child.

This isn’t about being a perfect parent. It’s about recognizing that we are in this together. I’ve learned that co-regulation isn’t a technique—it’s a shared, human experience.

Now I Know When to Push and When to Let Go

So, should I work on my child’s dislike of sand? Dr. Louise offered me a compassionate rule of thumb: if it’s not relevant to their daily life, and if pushing it causes stress, let it go. If my child never goes to the beach, I don’t force sand play. If they hate socks, we find shoes they can wear without them.

I now focus on what brings my child joy and motivation. I’ve seen that when their desire is strong—like wanting to join in family fun—their sensory resistance often lessens naturally. Healing comes from connection and readiness, not from compliance.

The Real Goal: Understanding, Not Saving

The most profound shift I’ve made is moving from a place of “saving” my child to one of “understanding” them. I’ve dropped the checklist. I watch what my child responds to. I follow their interests. I build from their strengths.

Sensory needs are real, but they are just one piece of my complex, beautiful child. By focusing on the whole person—and on our whole relationship—I am finally creating an environment where regulation, learning, and growth can unfold together, as they were always meant to.

Hear the full story on the podcast.