A smiling woman with curly red hair, wearing glasses, a white crop top, and dark jeans, standing in a room with a colorful abstract painting in the background.

MY STORY

I’ve spent most of my life trying to understand why I felt different — anxious as a child, depressed as a teenager, and constantly overwhelmed as an adult.

After the birth of my daughter in 2016, I began antidepressants for postpartum depression. They helped, but something still didn’t feel quite right. None of the labels I’d been given truly explained the why behind my lifelong struggles with exhaustion, sensitivity, and emotional intensity.

A close friend — who was exploring her own neurodivergence — gently encouraged me to try some online questionnaires for ADHD and autism. I resisted at first. I didn’t see myself in those labels; I had a lot of internalised stereotypes. I wasn’t hyperactive — I was chronically tired. I wasn’t “unemotional” — if anything, I felt too much.

But when I finally took the tests, I scored highly for both ADHD and autism — higher for autism, in fact. That moment changed everything. I started learning about neurodivergence, especially in late-diagnosed women, and it was like reading the story of my own life. For the first time, everything made sense.

I went on to get a formal diagnosis through the NHS Right to Choose pathway with ADHD360 in 2022. The process was emotional — equal parts relief, grief, and self-discovery. I also tried medication, which worked beautifully for a few days but quickly became difficult to tolerate due to emotional and sensory side effects. I’ve since learned that when you’re both autistic and ADHD, medication can affect your system in complex ways.

Professionally, my background is in supporting neurodivergent people and their families. I’ve facilitated groups for parents, adults, and now specifically for neurodivergent women and nonbinary people — work that feels deeply aligned with my purpose.

Community and mutual support have become central to my philosophy. I believe we don’t thrive in isolation — we thrive when we’re understood, accepted, and surrounded by others who just get it.

That’s why I became a Women’s ADHD Coach — to help others discover the same clarity, compassion, and community that changed my life.

A young girl at the beach wearing a black swimsuit with floral patterns and yellow shorts, smiling and making fists with her arms raised.
A young girl with curly hair wearing a white knit hat, smiling, sitting with a guitar, pointing at it, surrounded by music equipment and a box of crayons.
A young boy playing outdoors, sitting on a red stool, smiling and holding onto a yellow balancing beam. A girl is in the background, engaged with something on the ground.