You Can Tell an Occupational Therapist Lives Here… (Especially a Neurodivergent One)

If you have ever been to my house, you might leave thinking one of two things.

Either...

"Wow... that's actually quite clever."

Or...

"Why do these people own seventeen washing baskets?"

The answer?

Because we're a neurodivergent family.

And somewhere along the way, we stopped trying to make ourselves fit into the way houses are supposed to work, and started making our house work for us.

Honestly, occupational therapists spend a lot of time adapting environments for clients.

It would be a bit hypocritical if I didn't do the same thing at home.

So, welcome to our house...

First Stop: The Washing Basket Collection

I'm not exaggerating when I say we have washing baskets everywhere.

Not because we love washing.

Definitely not because we enjoy laundry.

But because dirty clothes don't always make it to the laundry.

Sometimes they're taken off in the bathroom.

Sometimes the bedroom.

Sometimes halfway down the hallway because someone got distracted by... well... life.

Instead of repeatedly saying,

"Can everyone PLEASE take your washing to the laundry?"

We just put baskets where the washing naturally ends up.

It turns out it's much easier to move a basket than it is to rewire an ADHD brain.

The Laundry Doesn't Always Make It to the Drawers...

Every member of our family has their own clean washing basket.

Is that basket emptied the day the washing is done?

Sometimes.

Is it emptied three days later?

Also sometimes.

Has the basket become someone's wardrobe for the week?

Absolutely.

Would a Pinterest home approve?

Probably not.

Do I care anymore?

Also no.

Because the goal isn't beautifully folded drawers.

The goal is everyone having clean clothes they can actually find.

Sometimes "good enough" really is good enough.

If You Need a Phone Charger...

...there's probably one within arm's reach.

We've accidentally created what feels like a national charging network throughout the house.

Because if there was only one charger?

Someone would forget to plug their phone in.

Someone else would borrow it.

Nobody would remember where it went.

And we'd all be walking around on 4% battery wondering whose fault it was.

Removing barriers is often much easier than relying on memory.

The Kitchen Bench Is Doing a Lot of Heavy Lifting

If you're looking for our medication...

It's not tucked neatly away in a bathroom cupboard.

It's on the kitchen bench.

Right next to the hairbrush.

And the deodorant.

If you've just gasped because that doesn't fit with your vision of a perfectly tidy home... hear me out.

Those are all things we need to remember before we leave the house.

If we hide them away because they look neater, they disappear from our brains as well.

Out of sight really can become out of mind.

So instead of asking ourselves to remember harder...

We've made remembering easier.

(Obviously, if you have young children, medications should always be stored safely and out of reach. Ours are kept where they are visible to us but inaccessible to little hands.)

The Snack Situation

Our pantry could probably survive a minor apocalypse.

There are snacks everywhere.

And that's completely intentional.

Eating as a neurodivergent person isn't always straightforward.

Sometimes you don't notice you're hungry until you're absolutely starving.

Sometimes nothing sounds good.

Sometimes making food feels like climbing Mount Everest.

So we keep plenty of easy, safe foods around.

Not because we're lazy.

Because eating is easier when the barriers are lower.

The Real MVP of the House

If there was one thing I'd recommend to almost every neurodivergent family, it would be finding a way to get information out of your head.

For us, that's our Skylight calendar.

(No, they're not paying me to say this... although if anyone from Skylight is reading, I'm open to negotiations! *Hint *Hint)

Our morning routines are on there.

Afternoon routines.

Appointments.

School events.

My hubby and I share our calendars so we're both working from the same information.

Because relying on two ADHD brains to remember everything independently?

That's a bold strategy.

Then There Are the Doom Boxes...

Ah yes.

The doom boxes.

Every neurodivergent house seems to have them.

They're not junk boxes.

They're not organised storage.

They're simply...

Boxes full of things that don't have a home yet.

Or had a home that everyone forgot about.

Or definitely belong somewhere else but haven't quite made the journey.

Do I wish they didn't exist?

Sometimes.

Do they stop the entire house looking like one giant doom box?

Absolutely.

I'll take the small win.

Here's the Thing...

None of these systems happened because I read them in a textbook.

They happened because something wasn't working.

So we asked ourselves a different question.

Not...

"How should we organise our house?"

But...

"How does our family naturally function?"

Occupational therapy isn't about forcing people to fit into environments.

It's about adapting environments so people can thrive.

And that philosophy doesn't stop when I finish work for the day.

It lives in our washing baskets.

Our snack cupboard.

Our phone chargers.

Our calendars.

Our doom boxes.

And every other little adaptation that makes life just that little bit easier.

Final Thoughts

Sometimes I think people imagine occupational therapists have perfectly organised homes.

The reality?

Mine has more washing baskets than I'd like to admit.

Phone chargers in almost every room.

Medication on the kitchen bench.

A pantry that could rival a servo.

And enough doom boxes to keep future archaeologists busy for years.

But it also has something far more important.

It has systems that work for the people who live here.

Because our home isn't designed to impress visitors.

It's designed to support our nervous systems.

And honestly?

I think that's exactly what home should do.

Keep caffeinating, regulating,

and don't let anyone make you feel bad

for buying another washing basket if it makes your life easier

💛☕ Jisel