I didn’t arrive at coaching in a straight line. Honestly, I don’t arrive at most things in a straight line. If you’re neurodivergent, you’ll probably recognise that feeling — a life that looks less like a career ladder and more like a map drawn by someone who kept changing their mind about the destination, or just didn’t know where the heck they were going.
This is the longer version of my story. The one that didn’t quite fit on my ‘About Me’ page, but felt too important to leave out entirely.
Struggling Before I Had the Words For It
I struggled at school, sixth form, and university. I had enough intelligence to fly under the radar, but not many friends, and making new ones didn’t come naturally. Deadlines were the only thing that got coursework out of me, revision was always last-minute, and I made plenty of impulse-driven choices I’d rather not revisit. Alcohol became a social crutch for a while — a way to fit in when fitting in didn’t come easily.
I didn’t have words like “neurodivergent” or “AuDHD” back then. I just thought I was a bit rubbish at life in ways I couldn’t quite explain.
The Diagnosis That Changed Everything (The First One)
Despite all of that, I did manage to build something. I earned a Masters of Medical Science from The University of Sheffield in 2004 and started working in Phase II and III clinical trials. I was even about to begin a PhD.
Then I got ill.
Post-viral fatigue following an inner ear infection led to a diagnosis of M.E. (myalgic encephalomyelitis). I was virtually housebound for two years. The people around me tried to understand — they really did — but M.E. is a truly invisible condition, and invisible suffering is exhausting to explain, let alone live with. I fell into cycles of boom and bust. Push too hard, crash, recover, repeat. No real progress.
Twenty Years of Making It Work
Over the next two decades, I pivoted. I worked briefly as a dispensing technician for a national pharmacy chain, then spent most of my time as a web developer — flexible hours, work from home, better for managing energy levels. Practical, yes. Fulfilling in that deep, sparky, this-is-what-I’m-meant-to-be-doing way? Not quite.
I kept chasing that feeling through various means. It kept eluding me.
Around 2016, I had a series of coaching sessions that quietly changed my life. They helped me work out that I didn’t fit into societal expectations — though I wasn’t yet sure what I did fit into. Over time, I came to understand I was both polyamorous and queer. It took nearly a decade more to fully appreciate just how much those sessions had shifted something in me.
My health continued to cycle. Fibromyalgia joined the list. Then long COVID for a couple of years.
The Lightbulb Moment
In January 2024, freshly diagnosed as autistic (my ADHD diagnosis followed in early 2025), I was doing a lot of reflecting. About what it meant, what it explained, what it changed. About who I’d been and who I wanted to be.
That’s when it clicked.
I’ve always wanted to make a difference from my small corner of the world. I’d just been looking for the right way to do it. So I trained as a transformative coach — and something in me that had been quietly waiting finally woke up.
I feel fulfilled. Congruent. Able to embrace my authentic self, quirks and all. And that’s exactly what I want to help you find too.
If any of this resonates — if you’ve spent years feeling like you’re not quite right for the world as it’s built — I’d love to have a chat. You can book a free 30-minute virtual brew with me here.
Note: Although I use them to explain who I am, I don’t believe that people fit neatly into categories, boxes or labels. Furthermore, whilst labels are useful for us to identify ourselves with, when political and/or funding bodies use these same labels we need to ensure we’re still on the page of celebrating our differences, not demeaning them.
