It is evening. You close the door behind you—and with it, the weight of the day slips from your shoulders. No more masking. No silent expectations. No overload. Just you.
In this guided imagination, NeuroSpace leads us home. Not into a perfectly styled Instagram living room, but into a space that truly belongs to you. A space that doesn’t overwhelm you, but regulates you. One that allows you to untangle, to organize, to breathe.
Your home is not a place of constant functioning, but a place of self-connection. Maybe it’s small, maybe it isn’t perfectly tidy—but it is designed in a way that makes you feel safe. The lights are soft, not harsh. The colors are calming, not overstimulating. You know where your things are because you’ve arranged them intuitively, in a way that follows how your mind works—not some external convention. What you often need is visible. What overwhelms you is allowed to hide behind doors.
In one corner lies your sensory-protection blanket; beside it, a basket with things that calm you—textures, sounds, small movement objects. Not “too much,” but not lacking either. Perhaps a gentle background noise, a familiar scent, a light that adjusts to the evening. Your nervous system knows: here, I am allowed to let go.
In the kitchen, it’s not about performance pressure, but about nourishment. You don’t have to cook a three-course meal. Maybe there are prepared snacks, maybe a list of “foods that help me feel good.” Maybe just a reminder on the wall: eat regularly, even if you don’t notice you’re hungry. No blame, no “I should…”. Just an invitation to take good care of yourself.
The bathroom, too, is a place of calm. You’ve allowed yourself to simplify things—perhaps through visual routines, clear sequences, small rituals. What others might see as childish is, for you, a form of self-guidance: reminders, order, sensory regulation.
Your bedroom is not a second office, not storage, not a place for multitasking. It is your retreat. You’re allowed to get lost there—in thoughts, in silence, in stories. Maybe you need weight on your body, maybe lightness. Maybe absolute quiet, maybe a soundscape. You’ve set it up so you don’t have to fight against it.
And when you’re not doing well, you don’t have to explain anything. Your home knows you. It’s prepared for your crisis moments. Your emergency card is within reach. Your low-energy days are already taken into account. Everything is built so that you don’t have to gather strength first in order to relieve yourself.
In this NeuroSpace home, you’re not reminded of your deficits—but of your dignity. You’re allowed to be unproductive. You’re allowed to sink in. You’re allowed to be creative. It’s your space, and it breathes with you.
In this vision, home is not simply the place where you rest. It is the space that carries you, where you’re allowed to put yourself back together. A place that isn’t perfect—but honest. Safe. And kind to your nervous system.