A few years ago, I was living what I thought was my dream.
I was a tenured university professor, an award-winning researcher, and an expert in helping social impact organizations and communities navigate crisis and transition.
Alongside my time in the classroom, I’d spent 13 years on the ground as a professional communicator and leadership consultant, helping nonprofits steer through intense structural and ethical storms.
I was also twice-exceptional—navigating the world with both a highly gifted mind and a deeply sensitive, neurodivergent nervous system.
While I now see my neurodiverence as a bright red thread that ties so much of my life together, I didn’t yet have those words to describe myself. I just knew I got where I was by suppressing my intense interests, ignoring the overwhelm and confusion I sometimes felt in social situations, and being the most agreeable person who ever lived.
I even earned a doctorate focusing on interpersonal and organizational communication so I could decode the relational confusion around me.
I’d built an excellent mask. I thought I could wear it forever.
Then, the system broke me.
After adopting my first son, the mask I had spent a lifetime constructing cracked. I began to see how much of my life depended on performing a version of myself others found acceptable—and how much that performance was costing me.
I also saw how the institutions I trusted to support me were often incapable of supporting the humanity of the people inside them. Including my own.
So I left.
Leaving academia was difficult. Building a life beyond it was even harder.
I’d left behind an entire ecosystem of support: meaningful work that matched my interests, colleagues and students I cared about, familiar and flexible routines, clear markers of success, and a community that had shaped my identity for nearly three decades.
All of that was gone.
At first, I tried masking harder.
I read more books. Took more notes. Created more plans. Researched more possibilities. Thought more thoughts. (Full disclosure: I still do this, but now because I recognize how much connecting to my interests connects me to myself.)
Some of that helped. Much of it didn't.
I was in the wilderness. And to be honest, part of me will always be there.
It was only when I learned to integrate what I knew with coaching and somatic work, cutting-edge research on developmental trauma, and the lived experiences of neurodivergent lives that the path became clearer.
I realized that neurodivergent people need two things to survive: inner grounding to come home to themselves, and outer scaffolding to support them as they venture out into the world.
My work changed because I changed.
The people I partner with are spiritually aware, highly intelligent, deeply caring people. They may have collected an array of credentials, roles, and responsibilities that’s as ecclectic as they are. And they may have collected disappointments, missed opportunities, and regrets, too.
They may have become exceptionally good at meeting the expectations of boards, staff, and communities. And they may also feel they can’t meet the expectations of anyone. Even themselves.
Beneath the surface, they’re fragmented, overwhelmed, and exhausted to the bone from a lifetime spent forcing themselves into a world that isn’t built for them.
They don’t need to be "fixed" or taught how to manage their time.
They don’t need life hacks to squeeze out that last ounce of productivity.
They need spaces where they can think clearly, breathe, and co-create an alternative way of moving through the world.
And creating those spaces is what I do.
I don’t have all the answers. I’m still walking my own path of unmasking.
But I’ve spent my life studying how human beings navigate identity, relationships, institutions, and change.
My individual coaching and group cohorts help neurodivergent people reconnect with their minds, bodies, and hearts so they can transform society without erasing themselves.
Not by trying harder, but by building a life and work sturdy enough to support who they already are.
My qualifications:
Ph.D. in interpersonal, organizational, and ethical communication
M.A. in corporate communication
Nine years as a tenured university professor of leadership communication (Duquesne University)
13 years as a professional communicator and leadership consultant to nonprofit organizations
Two books and dozens of articles on communication, ethics, and public life
Professional Certified Coach (ICF) with 1,000+ hours of experience
Accredited in body-oriented coaching and developmental trauma
Certified in coaching neurodivergent learners
