My Path Here

I was diagnosed with ADHD at six years old, and it glaringly shaped the way I learned to move through the world. I was hyperactive yet deeply sensitive, impulsive but highly attuned to others, so much so that I learned early to adapt, mask, and keep going no matter how bad I felt about myself.

 

By my twenties, that adaptability had turned into exhaustion. I didn’t yet have language for executive dysfunction or burnout; I just knew I couldn’t keep up with a world that constantly reminded me of how offbeat my inherent rhythms were. I remember always apologizing and averting my eyes downwards, hoping to hide my shame.

 

Revisiting my ADHD diagnosis as an adult changed everything.​ 

 

Instead of seeing myself as broken or undisciplined, I began asking better questions about how my brain and nervous system actually worked. That curiosity turned into a deep dive — into ADHD, autism, trauma, attachment, and the way these forces intersect.

 

What started as a hyperfocus on my own healing grew into something bigger: a commitment to helping others make sense of themselves in a world that often misunderstands them. I was drawn not only to theory, but to people from a wide range of backgrounds — facilitating community groups, joining peer support spaces at local colleges, and eventually pursuing formal training as a therapist. 

​

What I’ve learned is that many of the people who struggle the most aren’t broken; they’re misaligned. Their minds are complex, sensitive, nonlinear, and deeply relational, living within systems built for conformity, constant performance, and emotional disconnection.

 

Guiding others to become more curious and compassionate about the forces shaping their lives isn't just a way of giving back. It's also how I remind myself of how far I've come.