Seeing beneath the surface
- Tori Sheppard
- 2 hours ago
- 8 min read
I was asked to write a guest contribution to the newsletter for Eden Consultancy. You can see it published here in the “Eden Equips” newsletter:
This is a copy of that contribution posted here in the Map & Compass Blog:
Published 22 November 2025
Tori Sheppard
Map & Compass Neurodevelopmental Therapy
My children are grown now. But they are my reason and my story — the why behind what I do today as a Neurodevelopmental Therapist.
But it isn’t because I did everything right with them. Quite the opposite, in fact.
I didn’t know then what I know now… and I would have given my right arm to have known even a fraction of it when I needed it most.
Decades of research have shown that the early foundations of development don’t simply disappear as we grow. With the right kinds of targeted developmental support, these foundations can continue to mature, helping the brain and body to communicate more efficiently.
The connection between them can be gently strengthened. This is a reflection of what we now understand as neuroplasticity: the brain’s remarkable ability to adapt, reorganise, and form new pathways throughout life. It’s an incredible truth that growth and refinement remain possible at any age, offering real hope of helping children meet the demands of daily life with greater comfort and confidence.
If this sounds unfamiliar, you’re not alone. There are still so many who haven’t yet come across this work, but that is changing.
It’s that very lack, and the deep regret of “I didn’t know then what I know now,” that drives me every day. If you know me, then you know my passion: to educate, to share, and to amplify this knowledge in every space it belongs, including education, medicine, psychology, and parenting.
There are vital things to understand about how the brain develops, what happens when those processes are interrupted, and what can be done to help them complete their course. As connections in the nervous system become more coordinated, everyday life often begins to flow with a little more steadiness, less struggle, more calm, and a renewed sense of possibility.
That’s what this work offers: not perfection, but ease. And it’s what I would have longed for my own children to have when their world felt overwhelming and when coordination, balance or physical effort made everyday life feel like an uphill climb.
“So how,” you might say, “does that fit with being neurodiversity-affirming?”
That’s easy.
Did I ever want to change them?
Never.
Not one bit of their heart, their fire, their intellect, their quirkiness, or their personality.
But did I want to do anything that would help ease their suffering, their frustration, their tears, and their turmoil? More than words can say.
Let’s see if this helps to explain…
The Neurodevelopmental Lens
Often, when a child reacts —perhaps by shouting, hiding, refusing, or lashing out —we rush to interpret the behaviour. We might wonder whether they’re being difficult, oppositional, or simply ‘making bad choices.’ But what if their body and brain were doing the very best they could in that moment?
What if what we see on the surface is simply the outward sign of something deeper happening in the nervous system — something that a child can’t explain to you, and something that, if we understood what was going on, would make total sense as to why they are melting down in frustration?
When we look through a neurodevelopmental lens (I mean “lens” like the lenses in glasses), we can begin to ask different questions.
What if a child who always seems ‘disorganised’ or ‘lazy’ is working against a retained tonic-labyrinthine reflex — one that makes it hard to understand time and sequence, and yes, how on earth to organise their room or homework!
And what if that child who avoids reading isn’t uninterested or unmotivated, but exhausted — because their eye-tracking and stability systems are working twice as hard as they should just to stay on the page?
When we begin to see through this ‘lens,’ behaviour becomes information. It becomes a clue, not a character flaw. It invites us to pause before judging effort, motivation, or intent, and instead to wonder what the child’s body and brain might be trying to tell us.
If you got worried when you saw the word “therapy,” you can exhale. This way of seeing doesn’t stand in opposition to a neurodiversity-affirming approach. In fact, it sits beautifully alongside it. To affirm neurodiversity is to recognise that every nervous system is wired differently — and that ‘difference’ itself is not a problem to fix.
But when daily life feels harder or more overwhelming, we can look with compassion for what might help that child find more ease.
Sometimes that means environmental support, sometimes relational understanding — and sometimes it means assessing and addressing underlying physical factors at the foundations of the nervous system itself.
That’s what I mean when I talk about seeing beneath the surface.
The Neurological Cup
I often use the example of the ‘neurological cup’ when I’m helping parents understand what their child may be experiencing.
Imagine two cups side by side. One cup is half full. The other is already filled right to the brim.
The cup that’s half full represents a child whose early developmental processes — those automatic reflexes we all begin life with — have done their job. They appeared, served their purpose, and then integrated as the brain matured. Those automatic functions now run quietly in the background, giving the child’s thinking brain the freedom to focus on learning, listening, and relating.
The other cup — the one already full — represents the child whose early reflexes didn’t fully complete their inhibition/integration process: they came in at a certain time of development, did part of what they were designed to do, and then failed to fully integrate into the adult system. Their brainstem (where all those automatic functions were formed) is still sending signals that the cortex (the thinking brain) must manage manually. To make it even simpler, it’s like the ‘thinking brain’ having to do the work that should be carried out automatically.
In this scenario, things that were supposed to be automatic and easy aren’t easy at all… and that makes the brain overwork. That cortical (thinking) brain is having to do the work of the brainstem that would normally happen automatically. Imagine how much harder life would be if you had to think about things all day long, every day of your life, that you were never meant to have to think about. That’s the picture of retained reflexes: a brain on overload and a body confused by all of it.
That child’s neurological cup is already full before the day even begins, so when life adds more — the noise of a classroom, a change in routine, an unexpected demand, those socks that are scratchy — the cup overflows. What we see as a meltdown, refusal, or shutdown is often just the nervous system in an almighty overspill.
And it’s not for lack of trying. These are the children who are so exhausted from having to work so much harder than the child next to them. Children whose neurological foundations are in place have a half-full cup with more room for whatever adventures or unexpected stresses may come their way. A half-full neurological cup can’t overspill as easily as a full one.
Perhaps the most poignant part is that children with full neurological cups have no way to compare. They’ve never known a brain that felt any different. They are not being ‘difficult,’ they are coping, compensating, and trying to make life work with everything they have.
When we understand this, compassion becomes instinctive. We stop focusing on the behaviour itself and start wondering, “What underlying functions are still developing or not yet well integrated?” That’s what neurodevelopmental therapy does — it provides the body and brain with opportunities to revisit and strengthen the patterns that underpin early development. It’s simple and gentle.
It’s the work of development.
Glimpses of possibility
Every week, I hear the stories of what happens when a child’s nervous system begins to find a bit more ease:
A girl with autism who used to be chronically late for her special school because mornings were filled with distress and lashing out — now wakes up happy, gets ready, and wants to go. Her mum sent a video of her laughing while bowling, with the caption: “For a little girl who wouldn’t set foot in the Jet Centre…”
A boy with Down syndrome bounding into my office to tell me he doesn’t need his ear defenders on the football pitch anymore.
The mother who shows me before-and-after photos of eczema disappearing from her daughter’s arms as her anxiety eases.
A girl with elective mutism who couldn’t speak at all outside the home — now speaking regularly to her classroom assistant.
A ten-year-old boy no longer wetting the bed.
A teenage boy who once ate only ‘beige foods,’ now happily trying new eating experiences.
The teenage girl who has stopped fighting with her family, has made great friends at school, and can’t believe she loves reading now — making the best grades she’s ever had.
The non-speaking boy who now takes his mother’s hand to show her what he wants.
Each of these moments tells the same story: when a child is truly seen — not judged, but understood — something shifts. Their world becomes a little calmer, a little kinder, and a lot more possible. It’s their joy that tells us everything. Their laughter, their confidence, their ease — that’s how we know they feel seen.
Looking with Softer Eyes
If we can get the word out to parents and teachers, we can begin to bridge two worlds that truly belong together. We are not trying to remove the neurodiversity from children, nor to change them fundamentally or take away anything beautiful that is part of who they are.
Trying to make a child something they are not misses the beauty of who they already are. But wanting to help a child means recognising when a child is drowning and needs help to get above the water.
When we truly see our children, we begin to notice when they need that hand. To label them as lazy, reactive, or messy is unfair to a child who may not yet have the capacity to do what’s being asked of them.
If instead we can recognise what’s happening underneath — the effort, the overload, the over-full neurological cup — we can meet them with bigger hearts, wider arms, and softer eyes.
And in that moment of understanding, the message they receive is clear:
I see you. I know what you’re coping with. And I want to help.
To find out more about Neurodevelopmental Therapy, INPP (reflex integration), JIAS (auditory integration), RGM (bilateral integration) or the INPP School Programme, visit www.mapandcompasstherapy.com or follow Map & Compass on social media
For teachers/educators, information about the INPP School Programme can be found at https://www.inpp.org.uk/onedaycourses
Details of the upcoming INPP School Programme training in Derry in February 2026.
If you’re a parent or carer and would like to explore whether the programmes at Map & Compass could help your child, you’re very welcome to book a free 30-minute enquiry call through my website.
Or if you feel ready to go ahead with an Initial Consultation, you can book in here:
I also regularly meet with parent and professional groups and am happy to arrange talks or workshops for schools, organisations, or community events.
Thank you to Eden Consultancy for the invitation to write this piece for their newsletter!
For more information about the work of Eden Consultancy, you can visit their website here: https://www.edenconsultancyni.com/
Training provider for non-profits. Specialists in autism, ADHD, childhood behaviour and emotional well-being.
We equip staff, empower volunteers and support parents.