Transcript: Interoception and proprioception

Introduction

Today, we’re going to take a look at interoception and proprioception, which are two incredibly fascinating things that go on inside the human body. More importantly, we’re going to look at how this impacts those of us who are neurodivergent, or those of us who love, support, or work with neurodivergent individuals.

When we were in primary school, we were all taught the standard lineup of the five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. For a remarkably long time, that was the end of the conversation. But neuroscientists and occupational therapists now know that this traditional list is massively oversimplified. In reality, humans have a few extra “hidden” senses working away in the background. Two of the absolute most crucial ones are proprioception and interoception.

While everyone relies on these senses, if you are autistic, have ADHD, dyspraxia, or any other sensory processing difference, these two hidden senses are often the secret culprits behind a whole lot of daily exhaustion, executive dysfunction, and misunderstandings.

Proprioception

Let’s start with proprioception. In plain English, this is the body’s awareness of where it is in physical space. It’s the sense that lets you know exactly what your limbs are doing, without you having to actually look at them. Your muscles, joints, and tendons are absolutely packed with tiny sensory receptors. These receptors are constantly firing off signals to the brain, providing a real-time, three-dimensional map of the entire body.

When proprioception is perfectly tuned, a person moves through the world smoothly. But in the neurodivergent community, this system is frequently either over-responsive or under-responsive.

Think about dyspraxia, for instance, which frequently co-occurs with autism and ADHD. If the brain’s proprioceptive map is a bit fuzzy or delayed, navigating the physical world becomes genuinely exhausting. It’s not just “being clumsy”. It’s walking into doorframes, tripping over flat surfaces, or using way too much force to pick up a delicate cup of tea and ending up spilling it everywhere. The brain simply isn’t getting clear feedback about where the edges of the body end and the rest of the world begins.

This also explains a lot of sensory-seeking behaviours, or “stimming”. If a neurodivergent brain is starved of proprioceptive input, it will naturally try to create its own. This is why you might see autistic people flapping their hands, bouncing their legs endlessly, pacing, or physically crashing into the sofa. It is also why some kids naturally walk on their tiptoes; it forces the muscles in the calves to work harder, sending a stronger, clearer signal to the brain about where their legs are.

It’s a bit like having a radio tuned slightly off the station, so you turn the volume right up to try and hear the music through the static. That’s what stimming does for proprioception. It’s also precisely why weighted blankets are so popular. That heavy, even pressure across the joints provides a massive dose of calming proprioceptive feedback, effectively telling a stressed nervous system exactly where it is, so it can finally relax.

Interoception

Now, let’s talk about interoception. If proprioception is all about where the body is in the outside world, interoception is entirely about what’s going on inside. It’s the internal monitoring system. Basically, it’s the mechanism that allows the brain to perceive physical sensations coming from the internal organs, like the stomach, the bladder, the heart, and the lungs.

This covers knowing when you’re hungry, thirsty, need the loo, or feel too hot or cold. But for many neurodivergent people, interoception is wildly unpredictable.

Let’s look at a classic ADHD scenario. Many people with ADHD experience hyperfocus, where they get incredibly locked into a task. What’s often happening alongside that is a totally under-responsive interoceptive system. The signals from the bladder or the stomach are completely ignored by the brain, until they become absolute emergencies. So, someone might sit at their desk for seven hours straight without drinking a drop of water, only to suddenly realise they’re dizzy with dehydration and absolutely bursting for the loo.

On the flip side, some neurodivergent folks are hyper-interoceptive. Imagine being acutely aware of your own digestion, feeling every single beat of your heart in your chest, or feeling a slight dip in room temperature as actual physical pain. It’s incredibly distracting and incredibly overwhelming. The brain is constantly being bombarded with urgent internal alerts, leaving very little energy for focusing on a conversation or doing work.

But where interoception gets genuinely critical for the neurodivergent community is how tied it is to emotional regulation.

Interoception and emotions

Think about how you physically feel when you are anxious. You might get butterflies in your stomach, a tight chest, or sweaty palms. Interoception is the sense that picks up on those physical cues so the brain can interpret them and say, “Right, we must be feeling anxious.”

However, if a neurodivergent person struggles with interoception, they often experience something called alexithymia, which is a difficulty in identifying and describing emotions. If your brain can’t accurately read your racing heart or tense muscles, you might not realise you’re getting incredibly stressed until you are already tipping over the edge into a full-blown meltdown. It’s practically impossible to use breathing exercises or calming techniques if your internal alarm system doesn’t tell you that the alarm is ringing in the first place.

This is why the concept of being “hangry” is so much more severe in the neurodivergent community. A body might be sending a strong internal signal that blood sugar is low. But if the brain isn’t tuned into that specific sensation of hunger, it just registers a massive, overwhelming feeling of unease and distress. The person might become incredibly irritable, distressed, or have a meltdown, and it looks to the outside world like a behavioural issue. In reality, it’s a sensory processing issue. They weren’t angry at the world; they just desperately needed a sandwich, but their brain couldn’t translate the “hungry” signal.

How to support

Understanding these two hidden senses completely changes how we should support neurodivergent individuals, whether that’s in schools, workplaces, or our own homes.

When we see a child constantly wriggling out of their chair or chewing on their pencils, we shouldn’t automatically see it as bad behaviour. Instead, we should recognise a brain desperately seeking proprioceptive feedback to stay alert. We can accommodate that with movement breaks, active work like stacking chairs, or chewy jewellery.

When we see an adult colleague snapping over a minor issue or suddenly needing to leave a noisy room, we shouldn’t assume they’re being difficult. We should recognise that their interoceptive system might be totally overwhelmed by internal distress that they can’t pinpoint yet. A neurodivergent adult can support themselves through this by externalising the internal. Things like using alarms to remind ourselves to eat, keeping water bottles in plain sight, or building regular, quiet check-ins into our daily routines to consciously ask, “Am I holding my breath? Are my shoulders tense? Do I need a jumper?”

Proprioception and interoception are the unsung heroes, and sometimes the hidden saboteurs, of the human nervous system. By recognising how differently these senses can operate in neurodivergent bodies, we can move away from judgement and towards genuine, practical support.