Alexandra Lawrence
Nominee Profile
Location: Chesterfield
Growing up not knowing my neurotypes, I struggled with long-term depression, anxiety, and trauma. I faced experiences that left lasting emotional scars and made me feel unsafe, all while navigating life without support. Chronic pain after double hip surgeries at 20 forced me to give up the hobbies that had once been my lifeline, karate and dance.I felt like I had lost a part of myself. For years, I felt invisible, hopeless, like my future had been taken from me.
Receiving my dyslexia and dyspraxia diagnoses in early adulthood gave me clarity, but it wasn’t until my Master’s in Occupational Therapy that I was diagnosed as autistic. It was a relief to finally understand myself, but instead of support, I was met with ableism. I was told disabled people couldn’t be OTs, that I wouldn’t build rapport with clients, and that I wouldn’t succeed. These words broke me, and I hit the lowest point of my life. But I refused to let others decide my future. I fought the ableism that surrounded me, graduated, and became an OT.
Two years ago, I founded my independent practice to support neurodivergent adults, one of the most overlooked communities. I provide the kind of support I wish I had when I was younger. Since then, I have completed 1000 client sessions and received incredible feedback, including:
"I've noticed massive improvements in my quality of life."
"Working with Alex has been life-changing."
"Alex… 'gets it,' which is incredibly refreshing."
Beyond one-to-one work, I actively advocate for systemic change. I was part of the lived experience team that helped Sensory Street create their sensory-friendly supermarket guide, and I contribute to research studies on accessibility and inclusion.
I am always looking for ways to make my strategies more accessible, which is why I am writing a book, creating resources, and hosting webinars. My current project is launching a social group for neurodivergent adults; a space designed for connection, support, and community, which can be life-changing.
I have proven that disabled OTs are not only capable but exceptional, our lived experience is our strength. I believe I was nominated because I show my community that there is hope, that even when the world tells us we don’t belong, we do. With the right support, we can thrive.
Receiving my dyslexia and dyspraxia diagnoses in early adulthood gave me clarity, but it wasn’t until my Master’s in Occupational Therapy that I was diagnosed as autistic. It was a relief to finally understand myself, but instead of support, I was met with ableism. I was told disabled people couldn’t be OTs, that I wouldn’t build rapport with clients, and that I wouldn’t succeed. These words broke me, and I hit the lowest point of my life. But I refused to let others decide my future. I fought the ableism that surrounded me, graduated, and became an OT.
Two years ago, I founded my independent practice to support neurodivergent adults, one of the most overlooked communities. I provide the kind of support I wish I had when I was younger. Since then, I have completed 1000 client sessions and received incredible feedback, including:
"I've noticed massive improvements in my quality of life."
"Working with Alex has been life-changing."
"Alex… 'gets it,' which is incredibly refreshing."
Beyond one-to-one work, I actively advocate for systemic change. I was part of the lived experience team that helped Sensory Street create their sensory-friendly supermarket guide, and I contribute to research studies on accessibility and inclusion.
I am always looking for ways to make my strategies more accessible, which is why I am writing a book, creating resources, and hosting webinars. My current project is launching a social group for neurodivergent adults; a space designed for connection, support, and community, which can be life-changing.
I have proven that disabled OTs are not only capable but exceptional, our lived experience is our strength. I believe I was nominated because I show my community that there is hope, that even when the world tells us we don’t belong, we do. With the right support, we can thrive.