By someone who knows what it’s like from the inside out. Someone who lives it and not just studies it.

Being a counsellor who is neurodivergent — living with ADHD, dyslexia, Irlen Syndrome, and sensory sensitivities — means I don’t just understand difference; I live it every day. My brain and body interpret the world uniquely, and instead of seeing that as a limitation, I’ve come to embrace it as my greatest strength.

In a world that can sometimes misunderstand or overlook neurodivergence, I’ve spent years learning how to navigate spaces that weren’t built for me — from fluorescent lights that burn through my concentration, to clothing textures or background noise that make it nearly impossible to stay present. I know the exhaustion of trying to “explain” a feeling that doesn’t have words. That odd mix of frustration and isolation when something feels off, but you can’t quite say why.

But when I sit with another neurodivergent person — or someone struggling with their sense of self — there can be a deep unspoken knowing. We speak a language beneath language. I can feel what’s not being said. I can notice the small shifts — in body language, energy, facial expression. Not because I’m trying to, but because my brain is wired that way. .

My hyperfocus can become a superpower in the therapy room. It can allow me to completely attune to my client’s world — to walk with them in their story, to sense their emotions, and to see the person underneath the expectations and assumptions.

I don’t sit with clients from a place of judgment. Why would I? We are all different. And thank goodness for that. I meet each person exactly where they are. Whether they’re masking to get through the day, exhausted from trying to “fit in,” or lost in the tangle of who they should be versus who they really are — I see them. Because I’ve been there. I am there.

My neurodivergence can mean that I can hold space in a way that is intuitive, sensory and safe.

Together, we can unpick the layers — the conditioning from family, society, school, social media — and get back to the truth of who they are. Not broken. Not too much. Not too sensitive. Just real. Just human.

There’s freedom in being fully seen.

There’s power in being truly heard.

And there’s healing in being met with empathy, not correction.

This is me. This is what I offer.