Designing for Every Mind: A Neurodivergent Perspective on Creating Inclusive Spaces

Here’s an example of why it’s important to hire a designer with neurodivergent-first life experience. The three photos below showcase a book nook space, all using the same color scheme, designed for children to grab a book, sit down, and read comfortably. Spaces like these are often found in child & play therapy offices. They are all beautiful spaces, however, they are not all neuro-inclusive to those who are diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder, Autism, ADHD, OCD, Anxiety, etc...

Below, I will provide a neurodivergent perspective on each of these design elements—details that are often overlooked by neurotypical individuals. It’s also common for neurodivergent people to be unaware of the specific factors that contribute to their feelings of stress, overstimulation, or overwhelm. However, when these elements are pointed out, many can make the connection. Highlighting these aspects is crucial, as it helps neurodivergent individuals recognize the sources of their stress and empowers them to implement accommodations and coping strategies in the future.

Space 1 Space 2 Space 3

Space 1

Immediately, when I look at this space, my attention is drawn to the black bookshelf at the bottom. My brain starts running through different scenarios—why is this shelf black when all the others have nice colors? Are there special books on this shelf? Are we allowed to grab books from it? This uncertainty keeps me focused on the bookshelf making me feel the need to read every title, but then my eyes shift to the stark contrast of the black-and-white snake stuffed animal comparing them to the other vertical lines on the pillow. It's cute, but it's distracting me from my thoughts about the shelf.

Next, I notice the whale wall vinyl beneath it, and my attention shifts again as I try to figure out the overall theme of the wall graphics. Is it transportation, marine, land, or aviation? Underwater animals? I’m now focused on the hot air balloon, wondering why it’s placed below the ocean instead of above it while also comparing the vertical lines to the stuffed animal and pillow. The other gray wall looks bare, and unbalanced, making the black bookshelf stand out even more.

I’m still trying to figure out the bookshelf—how can children reach the books on the top shelf? Do they need an adult to help? Does this support their autonomy and confidence? The gray paint on the walls feels uncomfortable—it’s bright, but with a tint that makes it hard for my brain to process the mood the room is meant to convey. It's difficult to distinguish between the wall color and the carpet, which adds another layer of confusion, now comparing the textures to help decipher between the two almost matching colors.

All of these thoughts happen in a matter of seconds just by looking at this photo. Now, imagine trying to focus on a therapy session while your brain is overwhelmed by all these sensory details. Rational? No. Silly? Maybe to some. But real? Absolutely. These seemingly "little" things can significantly affect focus, mood, behavior, and overall well-being.

While aesthetically pleasing, this space misses the mark in terms of neuro-inclusive design. A truly inclusive environment considers the sensory needs and emotional comfort of all neurotypes, ensuring that every detail—from layout to textures—supports relaxation and focus.

Space 2

The first thing I notice here is the bright, unfiltered light streaming through the window. I might even walk in squinting, as my eyes struggle to focus on the books that the sunlight is highlighting. Most of the book covers are white, and the beam of light makes it difficult for me to stop trying to read the titles. The sky-blue wall paint clashes with the blue sky outside, making the vinyl graphics on the wall feel more out of place than ever. I see a fish on the top of the wall graphic, next to a cloud that’s smaller than the fish—this lack of consistency is jarring.

My eyes are drawn to the books stacked on top of the graphic, and I struggle to find a clear focal point. I try to escape the visual chaos on the wall by looking at the rug, but now I notice the leaves on the rug depict jungle plants, while the leaves on the wall suggest forest trees. This leaves me wondering: where is this room trying to take me? What story is it telling?

The beanbag chairs tucked under the shelf appear to be for storage purposes, but if I were to walk into the room, I wouldn’t feel invited to sit in them. I’d be too nervous to move them from their spot, and I certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable asking. As a child, if someone pointed to the beanbag chairs and invited me to sit, I would have awkwardly sat down as they were, hunched over underneath the shelf or right on the edge, unsure how to make myself comfortable. If someone then said, "Why don’t you pull it out and make yourself comfortable?" I would have felt even more embarrassed. The focus on the appointment would be completely lost.

I’d also wonder how a child would be able to get a book from the top shelf without asking an adult for help. The uncertainty and discomfort of these details would make it difficult for me to engage in the space or the appointment. This is another space that may be considered beautiful by most, but for a neurodivergent brain, it can quickly become overwhelming and disorienting.

Space 3

As soon as I enter, I feel instantly at ease. The dark green walls and warm wooden floors wrap me in a sense of calm, almost like nature is gently embracing me—even though there’s no overt nature theme. The filtered light from the window, paired with the soft cream trim and the beautiful tree outside, creates a soothing, picture-like scene. I could easily gaze out the window for a while, letting go of any nerves I may have about attending my first appointment, while still taking in the rest of the space without feeling overstimulated or distracted.

Subtle patterns on the pillow and ball break up the solid color without overwhelming the senses and can be easily removed if needed. The warm, sun-yellow chair invites me to jump in, feet first, ready to relax. I can put my feet up on the teal ottoman, or even stretch out across it, listening to my parents talk with the counselor while I lie upside down, gazing at the real-life picture window on the wall.

The rug feels comforting beneath my feet, with its subtle wavy lines and plush texture. I don’t even have to focus on it much—it’s simple enough that I process the colors quickly and can look out the window without distraction. All of the books on the shelf are at my level, facing in without calling me to read all of the titles, and while I might need help with the games on top, they’re likely stored there to be rotated out, which makes me feel at ease. I’d feel comfortable asking for assistance, as I’m calm and grounded in this space.

When I'm addressed, I’m ready to focus, and I don’t feel the urge to leave right away. There’s very little here that requires processing, but there’s so much to enjoy. The space is designed in a way that makes me feel both safe and engaged, without overwhelming my senses.

Why it matters:

Neuro-inclusive interior design focuses on creating spaces that are welcoming and comfortable for all neurotypes, both neurotypical and neurodivergent. The goal is to minimize stress and sensory overload, making spaces adaptable to different needs. This is particularly important in therapy or treatment settings, as a space that feels comfortable and safe can directly impact a client’s ability to engage and succeed. Hiring a neuro-inclusive designer with first hand experience ensures that every detail—from lighting to layout—is carefully considered, fostering an environment that supports comfort, trust, and progress in therapy.

There are many variations of neurodivergence, and each individual has unique preferences when it comes to their environment. Some may find bright colors stimulating and energizing, while others may find them overwhelming. Some might appreciate patterns, while others prefer minimalism. The key is creating an adaptable space, allowing it to be customized based on each person’s sensory and emotional needs. My main goal in neuro-inclusive design is to ensure that spaces can be easily adjusted to accommodate these differences so that everyone feels comfortable, supported, and able to thrive in their environment.

I offer Neruo-Inclusive Interior Design in the Northern Virginia and DC areas to both families and businesses. You can find more information on my services here.