Productivity Guilt and the Shame Spiral: A Love Story (Just Kidding, It Sucks)
Productivity Guilt and the Shame Spiral: A Love Story (Just Kidding, It Sucks)
Last week, I saw a video on Instagram that stopped me in my tracks. The woman said something like:
“If I’m doing really well at work, that must mean I’ve dropped the ball somewhere else—like I’m not being a good friend, a good spouse, or a good mom—because I put too much energy into work.”
Oof. That hit home.
I get stuck in this cycle where nothing ever feels like enough. There’s always guilt lurking somewhere, whispering that I’ve failed something. And last week? Whew. I didn’t write a blog post. I didn’t post on social media. I produced nothing for my business.
On Monday, as the hours ticked away and I hadn’t done any of those things, I made excuses. “I don’t feel well.” “I didn’t sleep last night.” “I’ll be more creative tomorrow.”
Then Tuesday came… and all I felt was guilt. Guilt and decision paralysis. I needed to pick the right thing to work on, and the right way to catch up, and the right time to do it. So I did… nothing.
Wednesday rolled around and I started five tasks. Finished none.
Thursday and Friday? Same story. But then came the weekend! I was “off,” right? Friday night was fun, Saturday was packed with family time, and Sunday was great… until the Sunday Scaries hit.
By Sunday night, I had—using my toddler’s words—eleventeen things I wanted to get done immediately. So what did I do?
I spiraled. Obviously.
I boarded the Shame Train, stopped in Guiltsville, and apologized to every fellow passenger, conductor, and ticket taker I passed. By the end of it, I was basically apologizing to my husband for existing.
(Which he hates, by the way. He always reminds me that one of his favorite things about me is my existing.)
Yes, we use humor a lot in my spirals. It’s my coping mechanism—like a weighted blanket made of sarcasm and memes.
That night, as my husband and I talked, we looked at what I did do last week. I’ve always equated my value with how much I produce—which is especially brutal when you’re ADHD and your brain’s production schedule is “chaotic creative energy meets occasional nap emergency.”
But here’s what I actually did:
Took my son to the park (twice!)
Had a breakfast date with him
Went to the library
Caught up with friends
Folded three baskets of laundry
Did the grocery shopping and errands (the ones my husband avoids)
Made doctor appointments I’ve been putting off
Shopped the school supply aisle like each notebook was my next dopamine hit
Rested. I napped three days in a row.
It. Was. Needed.
And guess what? I’m still worthy. Even without a new blog post or a single “productive” thing crossed off my business list.
My husband reminded me—again—that rest is doing something. And even though I tell my clients, friends, and family the same thing all the time, I still need reminders, too.
So, how do I pull myself out of the shame-paralysis loop?
I’ve learned a few tricks that help turn the volume down on the guilt spiral. Here are a few stops to make before you get to Guiltsville:
1. Talk to someone who knows and loves you.
Partner, sibling, best friend, therapist—someone who gets how your brain works and can gently say, “Hey, you’re being kinda mean to yourself right now.”
2. Get a reality check.
Sometimes we need to be told, “Babe, that’s not reasonable.”
I recently gave my digital bestie (aka ChatGPT) a list of everything I planned to do in one day. I included that I had a toddler, we were potty training, I have ADHD and a few other energy-draining conditions. She very kindly told me I was bananas and that not even three robot assistants could pull that off. It was grounding. And hilarious. Sometimes we just need someone—or something—to tell us to go drink water and sit down.
3. Make “Get Out of Guilt Free” cards.
You get a few guilt-free cards per week. Turn one in and say, “I’m napping today.” Or “We’re having frozen pizza for dinner and I’m not sorry.” Use them solo or with your partner/roommate. Zero shame allowed.
4. Have a Potato Day.
Yes, we call them that. It’s a day to just be. No big plans, no pressure. Maybe I lay in bed watching Love Island, maybe I wander through HomeGoods with no purpose. It’s a cozy, comfy, chill day where we let the guilt go—and the other partner picks up the slack.
5. Set tiny, specific goals for the next day.
On Monday night, after a trainwreck of a day, I’ll write down three simple, specific goals for Tuesday. Not “finish a dissertation,” more like:
Send that one email
Put laundry in the wash
Write one paragraph
These are easy wins. Because momentum often creates motivation—not the other way around.
6. Dance it out.
On the really bad days? I blast the music of my youth (hello, Dr. Dre, Eminem, and Mary J. Blige) and dance out the frustration. Movement plus nostalgia = dopamine. Suddenly I want to do something again.
7. Don’t take your shoes off.
Seriously. I have a pair of “indoor shoes” I wear so I don’t end up curled in bed with TikTok for three hours. Once they’re off, it’s over. But if I leave them on, my brain thinks, “We’re still doing things.” So we do.
8. Coach yourself like someone you love.
Even if you’re not a coach—pretend. I write down all the anxious, mean thoughts swirling in my brain. Then I respond like I would to a client or friend:
“You deserved a break.”
“Yeah, you spiraled. Let’s regroup.”
“Last week you were on fire. This is a moment, not forever.”
“You’re human. Be one.”
“You don’t have to earn love by producing. You already deserve it.”
Look—I’m not saying I’ll never end up in Guiltsville again. I probably have a punch card by now. But I’m trying to make the trips less frequent and shorter. As my therapist says, we’re not trying to turn the thoughts off—we’re just trying to turn them down.
So if you’re stuck in the shame spiral, I hope one of these ideas helps you turn the volume down and give yourself some grace.
And if you want help valuing your progress over productivity, I’m here for you.
Book a free consultation, and let’s talk about how we can work together to ditch the shame and build a life you’re proud of.
Refocus, Reclaim, Realign: A Mid-Year Career Reset Guide
Wait, it's July already????
We’re officially in July, which means summer is halfway over—and so is the year. Maybe it’s my years in higher ed talking, but doesn’t fall always seem to signal a season of realignment?
You might be asking yourself:
“Where am I at with those goals I set in January?”
“How am I supposed to finish these projects by the end of the year?”
Or maybe even, “Why am I still in this job? I was supposed to be in a new one by now!”
If any of that sounds familiar, you're not alone—and you're definitely not behind. And if you haven’t stopped to reflect yet, this post is your invitation to do just that.
Let’s hit pause, check in, and figure out how to reflect, realign, and redesign the rest of your year—on your terms.
✅ Check-In Step 1: Revisit That January Vision
Let’s be real—we’re great at setting big, shiny goals and lofty habits every January when the "new year, new me" energy hits. And if you’re anything like me (or, frankly, most humans), at least a few of those goals have already ghosted your to-do list.
So let’s talk about that vision you had for the year. Where are you now? Is your momentum still going strong—or did you stall out somewhere between “I’ve got this” and “Wait, what was I doing again?”
And hey, ADHD crew—where you at? 🙋♀️ I’ve probably set more goals and ditched them than most people even think about setting. No shame. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take a beat and figure out what’s actually getting in the way of what we do want.
✍️ Let’s Try an Exercise
Grab your journal—or, if you're a fellow office-supply addict, crack open one of those five pristine notebooks you keep saving for “something special.”
Reflect on these questions:
What did you really want to accomplish this year?
What was the why behind it?
Is that goal or vision still relevant today? Still meaningful?
Was it actually achievable? (Be honest: “Go viral,” “make six figures in Year 1,” or “learn 52 new skills” might’ve been... a bit ambitious.)
Where did you think you’d be by now? What did you imagine you’d have completed, created, or conquered?
How did you hope you'd feel at this point in the year?
And if you're a New Year’s Resolution Rebel and didn’t set anything in January—congrats! You get to set your goals in July, with way more clarity.
Just answer those same questions in the present tense:
What do you want to accomplish now—and why?
What’s the vision or result you’re working toward?
How do you want to feel when you get there?
And what’s one tiny step to take this week?
🔍 Check-In Step 2: Assess Where You Are Now
You’ve reflected on what you thought this year would look like—now let’s get real about what’s actually happening. This next step is all about checking in with your present-day reality: your work, your energy, and whether you’re low-key crushing it or low-key unraveling.
Grab your journal—or a post-it note, napkin, or whatever’s closest—and start reflecting with these prompts:
💼 Career Satisfaction
Are you happy in your current job?
What do you genuinely love about it?
What skills or talents do you wish you could use more often? (What’s collecting dust on your metaphorical shelf?)
How’s your relationship with your boss? If you’re the boss, how’s your relationship with your team?
Do you feel valued for what you actually bring to the table—or just tolerated?
⚡️ Feeling Fried? Let’s Talk Burnout
Here’s where we get honest about your energy, emotional capacity, and if you're low-key dreaming of ghosting your inbox forever.
How are those Sunday Scaries treating you lately?
What’s your honest first thought when your alarm goes off?
How do you describe your job to other people? Is it joyful? Meh? Or more like “I’m silently screaming while typing ‘per my last email’”?
What’s the state of your inbox? Organized queen? Digital dumpster fire? Somewhere in between?
How’s your energy at the end of the day? Are you totally drained, rage-Googling dinner delivery options, or still feeling like a semi-functional human?
How often do you say, “I just need to get through this week”?
Do you feel like you’re doing everything and nothing all at once?
🧠 Skills + Growth
Are you learning or gaining new skills in your role?
Does your workplace support or encourage professional growth?
Have your job duties shifted away from the parts you actually enjoy?
Are there things you’re great at but never get to do anymore?
⚠️ Now What?
If most of your answers leaned toward frustration, exhaustion, or “please send help,” there’s a good chance burnout is creeping in—or already setting up camp. That might be because:
You’re overloaded and overwhelmed
Your strengths aren’t being used
Your boss is a micromanager with trust issues
Or maybe... you’ve just outgrown the role
No matter the why, this is your chance to pause and reflect: What’s working, what’s not, and what needs to change? (Record your answer in the journal!)
If burnout is the red flag waving in your face, setting a better goal might be your first act of resistance—and recovery. That’s where Step 3 comes in.
🎯 Check-In Step 3: Refocus
Now that you've looked back and taken stock of where you are, this is the perfect time to figure out what you actually want moving forward.
Maybe you’re still aligned with those January goals and visions—or maybe you’ve got an entirely new direction that fits who you are now. Either way, let’s set goals that work for you, not against you.
You’ve probably heard of SMART goals before. I like them in theory, but I’ve added my own ADHD-friendly twist to make them actually usable in real life.
🧠 The Traditional SMART Framework:
Specific
Measurable
Achievable
Realistic
Time-bound
Great in theory. But even with all five boxes checked, we sometimes still set vague goals with no real path forward.
✨ My Real-Life SMART(ish) Goal Method:
Instead of filling in boxes, I ask myself a series of guiding questions to give the goal structure, clarity, and an actual plan. Let me walk you through an example using one of my real 2025 goals:
💬 My Goal Example:
Get my initial counseling license this year. After years in mental health-adjacent roles, I want to get my LPCA license and start earning hours toward full licensure.
Notice: My goal isn’t “get licensed someday.” It’s:
“Complete application and receive approval for my LPCA license by the end of the year.”
🔍 Goal Breakdown:
🔹 What is the goal—specifically? Details matter. This isn’t just “get licensed.” It's: Take the certification exam, secure a supervisor, and submit a complete LPCA application to the board.
🔹 Is it actionable and achievable? Yes. I have the degree, the skills, and I understand the process.
🔹 How will I know it’s complete? I’ll have:
A license number in my state
A signed supervision contract
My first therapy clients through a part-time contract role (while building my coaching biz!)
🔹 What are the phases of this goal? Break it into steps:
Study for exam
Register for exam
Take and pass exam
Find a supervisor
Complete and submit application
🔹 What do I need to complete the goal?
Study materials
Exam + application fees
Time to study
A supervisor
Completed paperwork
🔹 What are the check-in points or milestones?
Study 3 hours a week until October
Register for the exam by end of August
Take the exam in October
Find a supervisor by end of October
Submit my full application by Halloween 🎃
Start seeing clients by December
🪄 The Point?
Don’t just set a goal. Break it down into phases, needs, and check-in points so it actually happens—not just sits in your brain gathering dust and stress.
Your turn: What’s one goal you want to refocus on for the rest of the year? Use this method and make it real.
Check out the link at the end of the blog to get your own SMART(ish) goal worksheet with these questions!
🚶♀️ Behind? Never. You’re Walking Your Own Path.
Let’s get one thing straight: You’re not behind. You’re on your own timeline, your own path—and that path doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s.
It’s totally normal to stumble, stall out, or switch directions. What matters is that you get back up, find a better process, and keep moving forward. And honestly? This mid-year reset might be exactly the momentum shift you need to turn that vision into reality before the year’s up.
Maybe through this check-in, you realized you’re totally burnt out in your current job. Now’s the time to set a new goal.
That could look like:
A new role at the same company
A similar role at a different company
Or a full-on career pivot into something that lights you up again
Whatever it is—use those SMART(ish) goal questions we covered and create your next step. Whether it’s a new skill, a new job, or a brand new career path, you’ve got this.
✨ Ready to Reset?
You’ve done the hard part—reflecting. Now it’s time to take one brave, messy, imperfect step toward the version of your career (and life) that actually fits you.
Download the [SMART(ish) Goal Planner], map your next move, and remember: you don’t need a full plan to move forward. Just a direction—and a little belief that it’s okay to begin again.
Forget What You’ve Been Told—Here’s What Real Strength Looks Like
The Lies We’ve Been Fed
Apparently, strength means waking up at 5am, crushing your color-coded to-do list, and thriving in endless meetings without ever letting your mind drift to the coffee stain on your shirt, whether your kid packed their homework, or how many emails are silently judging you in your inbox.
No daydreams allowed. No brain fog. No forgetting what you walked into the room for.
Cool. Cool. Cool.
Don’t mind me—I’ll just be over here searching for my keys again and wondering if I turned off my flat iron.
Who Made the Rules?
Somewhere along the way, someone decided that “strength” had to look a certain way: neat, polished, linear, predictable.
And then — just for fun — they decided those exact traits were also the gold standard for professionalism.
So what happened next? A lot of us started believing a dangerous little lie:
“If I don’t have those strengths, then I must not be…”
Good enough
Smart enough
Professional enough
Successful enough
(Insert your own flavor of shame here — the list is basically endless.)
But here’s the thing: just because your strengths don’t look like theirs doesn’t mean they aren’t valid. Or powerful. Or worth building a whole damn life around.
But that’s not where the story ends.
So what do you do if your brain prefers chaos over checklists… or intuition over spreadsheets?
Most likely:
You’ve learned to stay quiet.
You’ve masked your magic.
You’ve played it safe, stayed small, or convinced yourself that something was wrong with you.
Or maybe you’ve been the loud one — the bold, quirky, “too much” one — and felt like an outcast for daring to show up as your full self in spaces that didn’t know what to do with you.
Either way? You’ve been trying to survive in systems that were never built with your brain in mind. And that’s not a personal failure — that’s a structural one.
So… What Is Strength, Then?
If it’s not inbox zero, bullet journals, or sitting still for 90 minutes in a strategy meeting… then what is it?
Let me tell you what strength actually looks like — especially for neurodivergent, creative, or nontraditional brains:
💡 Idea avalanches that hit while you’re brushing your teeth or pacing the room with a snack in hand.
🧠 Seeing connections no one else sees — because your brain doesn’t do straight lines, it does spiderweb brilliance.
🫶 Feeling deeply — and still showing up for others, even when you’re overwhelmed yourself.
🔥 Hyperfocus that makes you a creative powerhouse when you're lit up by purpose.
🎭 Humor as survival — cracking jokes mid-chaos, because that’s how you process, cope, and connect.
🎯 Doing things differently on purpose — not to rebel, but because you know the rules aren’t working.
These are not flaws.
They’re not side effects.
They’re not “areas for improvement.”
They are strengths. Full stop.
Let’s Reframe the “Flaws”
You’ve probably been told your entire life that certain parts of you need “fixing.” But maybe those things aren’t the problem — maybe the framework is.
Let’s play a game I like to call: Rebrand the Trait You Were Shamed For.
“You’re disorganized.”
→ I’m a nonlinear thinker who thrives in fast-moving, creative spaces.“You can’t focus.”
→ I need meaning to activate. When it matters, I’m unstoppable.“You’re too sensitive.”
→ I’m emotionally intuitive and pick up what others miss.“You talk too much.”
→ I’m a natural communicator who brings energy and clarity into every space.“You’re too much.”
→ I’m just not interested in shrinking. And that makes people uncomfortable.
You are not a problem to be solved. You are a force to be unleashed.
Real Strength Feels Like…
Strength isn’t about following rules you didn’t write.
It’s knowing what works for you.
It’s building a life and career that doesn’t require you to mask, shrink, or edit yourself down to be palatable.
It’s waking up one day and realizing that you don’t have to become “better” — you just need to become more you.
That is authenticity, and it can never be duplicated.
That’s when things shift. That’s when clarity comes. That’s when confidence builds. Not from perfection — but from permission.
Still a Work in Progress: Real Talk from Me, the Coach and Entrepreneur
Look, I’m not gonna pretend I woke up one day and nailed this whole “own your strengths” thing. Spoiler: I’m still working on it every damn day. Especially as an entrepreneur, where you’re wearing all the hats (sometimes simultaneously) and the pressure to “have it all together” is relentless.
(Side note: I wanted to write aspiring or wannabe entrepreneur in the title soooo bad!)
One of the biggest tools in my toolbox? Affirmations.
Yeah, I know. That sounds kinda woo-woo and maybe a little icky at first. (I definitely rolled my eyes when I first tried it.) But here’s the thing — saying out loud, or writing down, things like:
“I am enough exactly as I am.”
“My unique brain is a superpower, not a setback.”
“I don’t have to fit in to stand out.”
“I am worthy of success on my own terms.”
“I’m allowed to take breaks and still be productive.”
“I am so creative.”
“People come to me to solve problems.”
…they do something. They slowly start to shift the noise in your head from “not good enough” to “hell yes, I’ve got this.”
Does it feel weird or fake at first? Absolutely. But it’s a muscle — the more you flex it, the stronger your confidence grows.
(Shhh… I’m sneaking some CBT into the convo!)
If you’re struggling with your own inner critic, I highly recommend giving affirmations a shot. Your future self will thank you.
If You’re Nodding Along…
Then I want to tell you this: you’re not broken. You’re brilliant.
But brilliance looks different here. It might be messy. Unpredictable. Spicy.
But it’s also magic.
🧠 Ready to Figure Out Your Strengths?
If you’re tired of trying to be “normal” and ready to start owning your real strengths, check out my coaching packages where clarity and confidence are always on the menu. We’ll uncover your magic, ditch the shame, and create a life or career that actually fits your brain.
Because the world doesn’t need more people following the script — it needs more people writing their own.
I Don’t Have a ‘Real Job’—And That’s the Point
Why neurodivergent brains feel boxed in by traditional careers—and how redefining success can set you free.
Let’s Get This Out of the Way
I don’t have a “real” job. At least not in the traditional sense—or what someone means when they ask, “So, what do you do?” What I’ve finally figured out is that it’s not just okay to break from the norm—it’s necessary. We spend more waking hours at work than with the people we love, so if I’m giving over half my time to a job, it damn well better fit: my values, my interests, and my energy. My brain isn’t neurotypical, and honestly, my job shouldn’t be designed for someone who is either. I need variety. I need connection. I need a flexible schedule that lets me strike when my energy is high and problems that light up my brain.
This post is for every brilliant, burnt-out, boxed-in brain who’s ever felt like they didn’t fit the traditional career path—and thought they were the problem.
The Myth of the “Real” Job
“Dear brain, I know you’re doing your best with a system that makes no damn sense.”
The traditional “successful” career is usually framed as a 9–5, five-days-a-week, in-office job with a steady salary, benefits, vacation days, and a predictable path for promotion. For a long time, that was all that really existed—and for some, it still works. But thanks to the rise of the internet, freelancing, remote work, and a deeper understanding of how different brains function, more non-traditional opportunities have emerged.
Yes, the benefits and PTO can be great. But even those don’t make up for the many ways traditional workplaces can be deeply challenging for neurodivergent brains.
If you’re not neurodivergent, you might wonder, “What’s so hard about a regular job?” or even say, “That’s just how work is—get used to it.” (Trust me, I’ve heard both.) But here’s the reality:
One of the biggest challenges for neurodivergent folks—especially those with ADHD—is the rigid structure of traditional work environments. Our energy and focus fluctuate throughout the day. There are peak times when our brains are firing on all cylinders and we can tackle complex, creative, or strategic tasks with brilliance. But other times? We need low-effort, low-stimulation work.
Flexible schedules and remote setups allow people with ADHD to align their tasks with their natural rhythms. That means using high-energy windows for demanding work, and saving things like data entry or emails for slower stretches. It's not about avoiding work—it’s about working smarter, in a way that’s actually sustainable.
Another common obstacle? The physical work environment itself. Open office plans, cubicles, forced “no closed doors” policies (yes, I had a boss like this—no privacy, ever), and constant interruptions can make it nearly impossible to focus. As someone who’s easily distracted, that kind of environment didn’t just slow me down—it made me feel like I was losing my mind. I was staying two hours late every night just to get my actual work done (and no, there was no overtime).
When you work remotely or have accommodations, you can create a space that works for your brain. Personally, I need different setups depending on my task or mood. Sometimes, I need total quiet for detailed work. Other times, music fuels my creativity. And weirdly enough, working at my kitchen table while my husband is nearby doing his thing? Helps me focus. I might need all three in a single day—and I finally have the freedom to choose what works.
Sensory overload is another overlooked barrier. For neurodivergent folks with sensory sensitivities, things like fluorescent lighting, scratchy office chairs, or the horror of someone reheating fish in the break room (why do they always do that?) can push our nervous systems into survival mode. Again, alternative schedules or remote setups can be a literal lifesaver.
Of course, there are plenty of other challenges in traditional workplaces: communication expectations, forced socializing, awkward networking events. But one of the most consistent struggles I see in my coaching clients is burnout—specifically the kind that comes from masking.
Masking is when we hide traits associated with ADHD, autism, anxiety, or other neurodivergent patterns to blend into a neurotypical workplace. We try not to be “too much,” “too scattered,” “too intense.” We stay quiet. We try to seem perfectly put together. But you can only suppress your authentic self for so long before it starts to break you.
When clients come to me burnt out, one of the first things we do is identify what’s not working—and then dream up what would. No rules, no limitations. What would your ideal work environment look like? What would make your brain feel safe, supported, and actually excited to do work?
Once we get clear on that, we reverse-engineer how to make it happen—either by finding or designing a non-traditional job that matches their needs. Because work shouldn’t require you to become someone you’re not just to survive the day.
Redefining Success (On Your Terms)
So… what does success actually look like if you throw out the traditional rulebook?
That’s the part most of us were never taught. Success has always been sold to us as a job title, a salary, a promotion, or a pension. But what if your version of success has nothing to do with any of that?
When I work with clients—especially those who are neurodivergent—we start by untangling all the inherited beliefs about what a “real” job or “successful” career is supposed to look like. And then we ask:
What actually matters to you?
What energizes you?
What kind of environment helps you thrive—not just survive?
How do you want to feel on a Monday morning?
Maybe your version of success is taking mid-morning walks with your dog. Or starting work at 1 p.m. because that’s when your brain kicks in. Maybe it’s running your own business, or working part-time, or having three different freelance gigs that keep your brain buzzing. Maybe it’s just not crying on your lunch break anymore.
Whatever it is—it’s valid. You don’t need to justify it. You just need to own it.
When we let go of someone else’s definition of success, we get to build one that fits our brain, our values, and our life. And from that place, things start to shift. You stop chasing roles that drain you. You stop apologizing for needing breaks. You start showing up as your whole self—and that’s where the real magic begins.
Coaching Isn’t Therapy—But It’s Still Magic
Let’s be clear: coaching isn’t therapy. I’m not here to dig into your childhood or diagnose your patterns. Therapy is about healing the past. Coaching is about creating the future.
Coaching is where strategy meets self-trust. It’s where we take all the messy, beautiful, brilliant parts of you and build a life and career that actually fits. It’s goal-setting with a nervous system in mind. It’s planning with your energy, your values, and your reality at the center.
It’s a space where you don’t have to mask. You don’t have to explain. You just get to be—loud, quiet, scattered, brilliant—and move forward anyway.
I’ve coached people through career pivots, resume rewrites, side hustles, total burnout, confidence crashes, and everything in between. We don’t just talk about goals—we build the systems, structure, and support to get there (without losing your mind in the process).
Because when someone finally gives you permission to work with your brain instead of against it? That’s where the magic happens.
From Masking to Mastering: How ADHD Made Me a Better Coach
From Masking to Mastering: How ADHD Made Me a Better Coach
ADHD didn’t break me—it built my brand.
That day was rough. I had gotten a note that my last email had three typos (so much for polished and professional). In a meeting, I rattled on way too long and veered off into a new topic just as everyone was clearly ready to wrap up. Cue the colleague eye rolls—at least that’s how it felt. I’d been bouncing my leg all day with nervous energy, practically shaking the earth beneath my desk.
Just one more appointment to go.
She was a rockstar client—close to my age, same MBTI score, and while I was already diagnosed with ADHD, she was in the “is this me?” stage. She was leading a major grant initiative, applying for director and VP roles at top nonprofits, and playing with business ideas on the side. Total powerhouse.
Over the next few meetings, I noticed something. We shared so much: the ambition, the self-doubt, the habit of overthinking everything and second-guessing nothing at the same time. The brilliant ideas. The deep empathy. The subtle but exhausting ways we masked ourselves to seem more "professional."
And that’s when it hit me—hard.
💡 My brain isn’t broken. It’s just not built for the systems we live in.
But that doesn’t mean I have to hide it.
I realized I could be just as badass as she was. I just needed to embrace how I work, instead of constantly trying to “fix” it.
Just like my client—the one who always asked the questions no one else thought to ask, or came up with a perfectly-timed program idea no one else could’ve imagined—I could use my ADHD superpowers in my coaching.
Turns out, ADHD makes me:
More empathetic to the clients who feel like outliers
More creative with solutions and tools
More inquisitive, always digging for the why behind the what
More structure-seeking, because I know how much it helps
And way more authentic, because masking is exhausting and I’m done with it
ADHD didn’t make me worse at my job.
It made me better.
😵💫 Missed, Masked, and Maxed Out
My life has always been a giant mix of contradictions.
I hated school in elementary but became an A student by 7th grade—all because one teacher in 6th said I couldn’t do better. I was a quiet, observant kid... until I felt comfortable—then I wouldn’t shut up. I always got my work done—but it took me twice as long as everyone else. I loved writing—but procrastinated until the last possible hour, then cranked out an A+ paper in three hours flat.
Deadlines stressed me out—but somehow, the stress helped me perform better.
Looking back now, it’s clear: ADHD was there all along. The signs were loud. I just didn’t know how to read them yet.
I managed to mask and overcompensate for years. And it worked—until it didn’t.
At 38, everything came crashing down.
I had a new baby. I was six months into postpartum life and suddenly, the delicate system I’d built—my routines, my adrenaline-fueled productivity, my ability to juggle all the chaos—just... stopped working.
Everything became too much.
I was foggy, exhausted, and forgetful. The dishes were never done. I couldn’t remember the day of the week. My go-to systems for pulling things together last minute? Useless. Babies don’t care about your carefully timed meltdown-meets-motivation cycles. They need snacks. Now.
I thought maybe I had postpartum depression. Or anxiety. Or hormones.
(Which—yes, all of those things were absolutely real.)
But the real turning point?
I finally saw a psychiatrist and asked: What’s happening to my brain?
We talked through everything—my racing thoughts, the nervous energy, my leg bouncing like an earthquake, my chronic overwhelm. They asked about family history. Yep, ADHD runs in my family—but I’d never seen myself in the classic “hyperactive boy bouncing off the walls” image.
Except... maybe I was that kid.
Just in girl form. In the ‘90s. Quiet, driven, internal, missed.
Turns out, my brain wasn’t broken. It was just undiagnosed and unsupported for nearly four decades.
Now what? I was 38, a new mom, and feeling like a failure. But getting that diagnosis gave me a word, a framework, and most importantly, a path forward.
🧠 The Deep Dive Into My Brain
Once I had the diagnosis, I did what I do best: I hyperfocused.
I devoured everything I could get my hands on—TikToks, YouTube videos, books, blogs, research articles, podcasts. If it had "ADHD" in the title, I consumed it like my life depended on it (because, in a way, it kind of did).
I tried medication, therapy, supplements, and every productivity hack you can imagine:
✅ Pomodoro
✅ Color-coded checklists
✅ Timers and reminders
✅ Visual schedules
✅ Sticky notes in places I shouldn’t admit
I created my own systems—ones that actually worked with my brain instead of against it. I had a list for everything and finally understood why I needed them. But the most powerful thing I did?
I talked about it. Loudly. Openly. Proudly.
I started sharing my story—with friends, family, clients, and colleagues. I stopped hiding the shaky leg, the scattered thoughts, the high-speed idea machine inside my brain. And as I spoke it out loud, something wild happened:
I stopped feeling broken.
I started feeling brilliant.
I realized I do think differently—and that’s a strength.
I make connections others don’t see.
I’m wildly creative and constantly bursting with new ideas.
I can problem-solve on the fly.
I’m deeply empathetic—and now, I let that show.
The more I embraced my neurodivergence, the better I became at my work. My coaching got sharper, more intuitive, more human. I wasn’t just reading articles about ADHD anymore—I was living it, and using it to support others who felt like they were "too much" or "not enough."
Turns out, I wasn’t either of those things.
I was just neurodivergent. And once I stopped trying to hide it, I found my spark.
🔥 From Chaos to Confidence
I went from chaos to confidence—not because I figured it all out, but because I finally started building a life and business that works with my brain, not against it.
I created a schedule that gives me structure without stifling me. I built tools and routines that support my flow. I tried a bunch of things—some flopped, some clicked—and I kept what worked.
I learned that maybe I’m not the traditional version of “professional.”
I ramble sometimes. I overshare. I write emails with typos.
But I’m still professional—just in a way that’s real.
And you know what? That’s okay.
The people who need perfectly polished, never-distracted, always-glossy coaching? They’re not my people.
There’s a coach out there for them.
But for the ones who crave relatability, authenticity, and some good old-fashioned real, raw talk?
I’m here. And I get it.
Finding My Spark!
I built a career helping people find themselves—while secretly wondering if I’d lost myself along the way.
🎓 First-Gen & Figuring It Out
Has your career ever felt like it was on autopilot, and you were no longer directing what you did next? Like you’re just going through the motions, waiting for something to change but unsure how? You’re definitely not alone—and that’s exactly why I started CleverSpark Coaching. My mission started with my own internal career conflicts. I wanted to feel happy and confident in my job and help people along the way. That’s why I make it my mission to help every client find clarity, confidence, and joy in their careers.
I was a first-generation college student and the first person in my family to have a "desk-based" role. My parents were incredibly hardworking—my mom, a stay-at-home powerhouse, and my dad, a construction veteran who rose from laborer to superintendent. They were always working, always on, and instilled in me the work ethic that powered me through full-time college classes, a 30+ hour work week, and decent grades.
But college was a mystery to all of us. I navigated applications, orientations, and academic life mostly solo, afraid of being found out as someone who didn’t belong. That’s where my imposter syndrome really started.
💼 The Accidental Career Coach
Despite having a bachelor's and a master’s degree, I had no clue how to apply for jobs. My parents couldn’t help either—my mom hadn’t applied for jobs in years, and my dad had never needed a resume. (I even had to write one for him once just so HR had it on file!)
Thankfully, I had consistent work experience since I was 17—McDonald's, a bed and breakfast, a bank. When I saw an ad for an advising coordinator at a community college, I figured it was mostly admin work. Spoiler: it wasn’t. It changed my whole career.
At just 22, a dean took a chance on me. She gave me real responsibility: designing the advising structure, registering students, training faculty. I fell in love with helping people find their path—especially students like me.
😠 Burnout, Bullsh*t & Bosses
I moved on to a four-year public university for a fresh start. I finally got industry training, went to conferences, created student resources, and taught classes. I also had a micromanaging boss who told me I didn’t interview well because I smiled too much.
I stopped applying for jobs for a year after that.
I burned out. I got bitter. And I knew I had to leave before it affected my students. With no job lined up, my husband and I budgeted for a break. That pause was priceless. I realized what I really loved: future planning with students, aligning majors to careers, building resumes, and helping them figure out what came next.
🧠 ADHD, Motherhood & Mental Health
I pivoted into career development and landed a director role at a private college. I built a whole career center from scratch. I finally felt confident in my skills and impact.
Then I became a mom.
The shift from professional life to motherhood rocked me. I actually missed meetings. My brain felt like it rewired overnight. After months of chaos, I sought out a therapist who diagnosed me with ADHD—at 38.
Looking back, it made so much sense. I had always over-prepared, invented complicated note systems, and thrived under last-minute pressure. But my coping mechanisms stopped working when a baby came into the picture. ADHD was always there; I just masked it well.
✨ Lighting the Spark: Why CleverSpark Exists
After a year at home and some coaching gigs, I found my passion again—especially coaching neurodivergent clients. I loved the work, but I didn’t love being told I wasn’t "corporate enough" or "professional enough." (Someone even told me not to list my Kentucky location on LinkedIn because clients might think I wasn’t qualified.)
I was miserable. Dreading Mondays. Dreading meetings. Dreading typos. So, I made a decision:
If I couldn’t find the workplace I wanted, I would build it.
CleverSpark Coaching was born. A place where creativity, authenticity, and compassion are professional. A space for the ADHD brain, the burned-out parent, the marginalized identity, the person who doesn’t fit into the corporate mold.
This isn’t corporate BS. This is coaching that helps you find yourself, be yourself, and succeed as yourself.
💬 If You See Yourself in My Story...
Let’s talk. You deserve a career that energizes you, not one that drains you. Together, we can challenge the status quo and spark a future that finally fits.