In the middle of Cherie Clonan’s bright Melbourne home sits a room in total darkness “for our son to retreat to”, she says. “It’s all black in there. You wouldn’t believe it’s the same home!”
The space, lined with sound-blocking panels, is a sanctuary for her autistic son: a quiet cocoon for decompressing after school. “He loves to go in there to game online with his mates,” Clonan says.
Diagnosed autistic at 37, Clonan lives in a weatherboard cottage with her husband, David, and her two neurodivergent teenagers. Since buying the house five years ago, she has been reshaping it around their needs. “Our family’s split half-half – 50% sensory-seek versus sensory-avoidant,” she says. “I chase light. I love light-filled everything. But my son really is the opposite.”
