Assistive Technology as Embodiment
THE CLASSICAL ASSUMPTION: embodiment implies a body operating on its own, without mechanical assistance.
THE QUESTION THIS PAGE ACTUALLY ASKS: where does the body end?
Where the assumption breaks down
Body psychotherapy’s language often implicitly assumes an unassisted body — one that moves, senses, and regulates through its own tissue alone. For someone who uses a wheelchair, a prosthetic, a communication device, a ventilator, a hoist, or an orthosis, that assumption leaves out something real about how they actually move through, sense, and exist in the world. A device may be experienced as an extension of the body, as freedom, as a burden, as stigma, as dependence, as identity, as technology, or as medical equipment — and different people experience the very same kind of device differently.
You might recognise this
“When somebody grabs my wheelchair without asking, it feels like being grabbed, not like my property being moved.” “My prosthetic is a tool. I take it off at night and I’m still completely myself.” “Some days my device feels like part of me, some days it feels separate, and both are true.” “I’ve had a therapist assume my chair was ‘part of my body’ before I’d said a single word about it myself.”
The reconstruction — and why it needs to hold two things at once
For many people, a wheelchair’s sense of balance, speed, and spatial orientation genuinely runs through the chair, not despite it, and a prosthetic limb can become sensorily integrated into a person’s own body map. That’s real, and worth taking seriously rather than dismissing as “just” equipment.
But this isn’t a universal truth to apply to every disabled person’s relationship with their equipment. Someone else might say, just as validly: “no — my chair isn’t part of my body, it’s equipment I use.” Both experiences are legitimate. Disability-informed embodiment shouldn’t replace one universal claim (embodiment requires an unassisted body) with another (equipment is always experienced as part of the body). The point is that both possibilities deserve real room, and only the person themselves can say which is true for them. A therapist should never assume: “you are separate from the chair.”
A lived scene · fictional teaching example
A therapist, having read widely about embodiment and assistive technology, begins a session by inviting a new client to “notice your wheelchair as an extension of your body.” The client, mildly puzzled, says he’s never once thought of it that way — it’s transport, full stop, and the invitation feels like it’s assuming something about him that isn’t true. The therapist, rather than gently correcting him toward the framing she’d prepared, simply asks what actually feels most like “him” in the room right now. He answers immediately: his hands, restless on the table. That becomes the grounding point instead, and the wheelchair stays exactly what he always said it was — a tool, nothing more, nothing less.
What might happen in therapy
Notice your wheelchair as an extension of your body.
I’ve never thought of it that way. It’s transport.
Thank you for correcting me. What actually feels most like “you” in this room right now?
My hands, actually. They’re restless.
Let’s start there instead.
A process to try: Notice · Ask · Differentiate · Experiment · Check · Choose
- Notice. Equipment is present and part of how this person moves through the session, or the world.
- Ask. How does this person actually describe their relationship with their own equipment, in their own words?
- Differentiate. Extension of body? Tool? Freedom? Burden? Stigma? Identity? Something that shifts day to day?
- Experiment. Build any embodied exercise around their own account and their own language, not a theory about disabled embodiment in general.
- Check. Did the framing fit, or did it feel imposed?
- Choose. Keep working with their language, and let the relationship shift over time without needing it fixed once and for all.
Mine — Yours — Ours — System
Does my own equipment feel like part of my body, a tool, or something that shifts — in my own words, not anyone else’s?
Has a therapist assumed an answer to that question before I’ve said anything myself?
Is there room between us for my relationship to my equipment to be exactly what I say it is?
Does this clinical model assume embodiment only happens through unassisted tissue?
Where this concept can help
Taking a person’s actual, stated relationship with their equipment seriously as the basis for embodied work, whichever direction that relationship runs, rather than importing a theory about what it should mean.
Where interpretation should stop
When a therapist’s own theory about embodied technology is offered as a fact about the client before the client has said anything themselves; when a client’s plain statement that their equipment is “just a tool” is treated as a defence against a deeper truth.
For therapists
Ask directly how a client relates to their own equipment, rather than assuming an answer in either direction. Both “this is part of me” and “this is a tool I use” are valid starting points for real embodied work.
Evidence and status
The idea that tools can become incorporated into a person’s body schema has support in phenomenology and some embodied-cognition research, though the degree and nature of that incorporation varies considerably between individuals and has not been established as universal. The clinical approach here, asking rather than assuming, is a Disability in Psychotherapy application of that research’s own variability.
A question worth carrying
Does my own equipment feel like part of my body, like a tool I use, or something that shifts between the two — and has anyone ever actually asked me that, rather than assumed an answer?
You may also want to explore
Grounding Without Standing · Dependency & Interdependence · The Psychological Meaning of Equipment · Assistive Technology & Organismic Life · Disability-Informed Body Psychotherapy
From the inside
Aids that are part of the body
For people with type 1 diabetes, an insulin pump and a glucose sensor may be attached to the body all the time. For people with IBD, a stoma bag is part of daily life. For people with Parkinson’s, a medication schedule shapes the whole day; some have a pump or a deep brain stimulator.
People may feel close to these, resent them, or both. Body work can include them as part of the body, rather than ignoring them.
Evidence & sources
Sources checked in October 2026, using targeted searches rather than a systematic review. “We have not located” means our searches did not find it.
Research finding
Maravita, A. & Iriki, A. (2004), “Tools for the body (schema)”, Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 8(2), 79–86. doi:10.1016/j.tics.2003.12.008.
Established theory
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1945; English edition 1962), Phenomenology of Perception, trans. C. Smith. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Includes the often-cited example of a blind man’s cane.
Our framework
The disability reconstruction on this page is this site’s own synthesis, as described under Evidence and status above. It has not been formally tested.
Fictional example
The lived scene and therapy dialogue on this page are constructed for learning. The people in them are not real.
Last reviewed: October 2026.
How to cite this page: Donaghey, C. (2026). Assistive Technology as Embodiment. Disability in Psychotherapy. Available at: https://disabilityinpsychotherapy.online/what-is-psychotherapy/body-psychotherapy-disability-lens/disability-informed-body-psychotherapy/assistive-technology-as-embodiment/ (Accessed: [date]).
Shared under CC BY-NC 4.0, with extra permissions for teaching, supervision and therapy. Credit the site. See Reusing This Material.