More Than What You See: Sarah Hope on Sport, Autism, and Advocacy
Written by Caragh McMurtry. Subheadings added by the Neurodiverse Sport team to support readability.
We’re proud to share the story of Sarah Hope—a former GB wheelchair basketball player, current para ice hockey athlete, and fierce advocate for disability and neurodivergence in sport and life. Sarah’s journey is one of strength, strategy, and survival. Diagnosed later in life with autism and hereditary peripheral neuropathy, she has navigated not just the physical demands of elite sport, but the invisible pressures of being neurodivergent in a system that often doesn’t understand what that really means. From the emotional toll of masking to the burnout of high-performance environments, Sarah speaks with refreshing honesty about the realities that too often go unseen. But this story isn’t just about challenge—it’s about building a blueprint for thriving, advocating for change, and creating space for others to do the same.
Sarah Hope, Coventry Wheelchair Basketball Academy
Discovering Why: A Search for Clarity
Sarah's story is one of self-discovery, adaptation, and resilience. Diagnosed later in life with autism and hereditary peripheral neuropathy, she explained how uncertainty was often harder than the physical challenges themselves:
"It wasn’t just the not being able to run — it was the not knowing why. My brain couldn’t settle. I needed something to hold onto, a label, an explanation. That uncertainty was harder than any of the physical stuff."
Finding Belonging Through Sport
Her diagnosis journey was long, and her path to elite sport was anything but linear. But in sport, she found structure, purpose, and a community that made her feel seen. Starting in wheelchair basketball, Sarah found empowerment not just through movement but through the people around her:
"Sport helped with that... suddenly I'm surrounded by other people with physical challenges that just get on with life. If they can do it, I can do it."
The Dual Reality of Visible and Invisible Disability
Sarah also speaks candidly about the duality of living with a visible and invisible disability. While people often empathised with her as a wheelchair user, they were less likely to understand her autistic needs:
"People will overplay the impact of the physical disability and underplay the impact of the neurodivergence."
Sarah Hope, GB Wheelchair Basketball
Burnout and the Cost of High Performance
This misjudgement often left Sarah without the support she needed in high-performance sport. She reflected on how, despite telling professionals about her autism, it was still on her to explain what she needed:
"There isn't that support network in place within sport to help athletes figure that out themselves... The onus is on the athlete."
One particularly powerful moment she shared was the decision to step away from elite basketball due to burnout. The pressure to meet the expectations of high-performance sport while self-managing her neurodivergence eventually became unsustainable:
"I was told, 'This is the reality of elite sport. You're either in or you're out.' And yeah, I burnt out pretty quick."
Her experiences are a powerful reminder of the additional cognitive and emotional labour placed on neurodivergent athletes. While others focus on marginal gains, neurodivergent athletes often carry the weight of unacknowledged barriers:
"You're already having to carry this whole system on your back... and then you're also expected to advocate for yourself."
Structure as a Strength
Despite these challenges, Sarah also highlighted the many strengths her autism brings to her athletic and professional life. Her intense focus, love of routine, and determination were critical to her success:
"I do love a schedule. I'll have a training plan for the week, and even if I don’t feel like it, I’ll stick to it. It would unsettle me more not to do the session than to push through."
This consistency proved especially valuable during the isolation of lockdown:
"I had a whiteboard with a schedule, and I stuck to it."
Her ability to hyperfocus and train repetitively allowed her to progress despite not feeling like the most naturally gifted athlete:
"I'm definitely not as naturally talented as a lot of the other girls from the GB team... but one of the advantages of my autism is the ability to train and train and train until I get it right."
Sarah Hope, GB Para Ice-Hockey
Building a Blueprint for Success
After a break from elite sport, Sarah returned—this time equipped with a better understanding of what she needed to succeed. She continues to compete in para ice hockey and has carried those insights into her professional life:
"By the time I started work, I had a blueprint for how to get the most out of myself. So I could go to my boss and say: here are the five things we can do to help me thrive."
Sarah's journey is a lesson in the power of lived experience. She now uses her platform to raise awareness—sharing her story on Instagram and creating informal communities like a WhatsApp group for neurodivergent athletes in wheelchair basketball:
"If I'd had that going up through the ranks, it might have made life a little easier."
Creating Community, One Conversation at a Time
Her honesty is helping others feel less alone, and her advocacy is building a legacy of inclusion one conversation at a time:
"It's making little changes, and hoping someone else picks up the mantle."
We are grateful to Sarah for sharing her story, and for continuing to be a voice for those who haven’t yet found their own. Her story is not just about overcoming challenges—it's about reshaping the environment so that others don't face the same ones.
Final Thoughts
Sarah’s story is one of resilience, insight, and finding strength through lived experience. But it also raises a bigger question: should it take each neurodivergent athlete 10 years to find their groove?
Too often, the journey to self-understanding and sustainable performance is made harder by systems that don’t flex—and by support that comes too late. Sarah’s reflections are a call to action: for sport to do better, sooner.
You can follow Sarah on Instagram @sai93 to hear more about her journey, advocacy, and continued push for inclusion—on and off the ice.
Lessons From Sarah’s Journey
For Neurodivergent Individuals:
Self-understanding is empowering.
⟶ Sarah’s journey shows that identifying what you need—then building your own “blueprint” to support those needs—can be transformative in both sport and work.
Your strengths are valid, even if they look different.
⟶ Sarah’s hyperfocus, discipline, and love of routine weren’t always recognised as talent, but they were key to her success. You don’t need to be the most "naturally gifted" to excel.
It’s okay to step away when you need to.
⟶ Burnout isn't failure. Stepping back, reassessing, and returning with a better understanding of what works for you is a powerful form of resilience—not defeat.
For Peers and Supporters:
Don't assume you know what someone's disability means to them.
⟶ Sarah’s visible disability often led to more empathy than her autistic needs did. Support starts with listening, not assuming.
Validation and connection matter.
⟶ A WhatsApp group. A conversation. A shared story. Peer support doesn’t need to be formal to be life-changing—it just needs to be there.
Respect different ways of coping and excelling.
⟶ Sticking to a whiteboard schedule in lockdown? That was Sarah’s superpower. Recognise that routine, structure, and predictability can be tools for regulation—not signs of rigidity.
For Coaches, Leaders, and Organisations:
Proactive support is your responsibility—not the athlete’s burden.
⟶ The onus shouldn’t be on neurodivergent athletes to constantly explain themselves. Build systems that ask, learn, and adapt before burnout happens.
Accommodations aren’t just about fairness—they’re about performance.
⟶ A small change—like allowing structure or reducing sensory overwhelm—can unlock consistency, progression, and potential you didn’t know was there.
Account for the invisible demands, not just the visible output.
⟶ While others pursue marginal gains, neurodivergent athletes often carry extra cognitive and emotional labour. If you're measuring performance, factor in the cost of coping.
Written by Caragh McMurtry - originally a video interview.
