At our house, sibling fights are almost a daily soundtrack. I’ve got two boys, one is 8, the other 4 1/2, and like most brothers, they have their good moments together, but lately it feels like there’s more rivalry than harmony. My older son is on both the ADHD and autism spectrum, and my younger one also shows some neurodivergent tendencies. It’s no surprise then that tensions run high.

I coach a lot of ADHD clients who are unhappy at work. They come to me feeling drained, stuck, or worse: like something must be wrong with them. Maybe they’ve been unemployed for a while and are starting to lose confidence. Maybe they’ve bounced from job to job, always hoping the next one will finally be the right fit. Or maybe they’ve tried their hardest to make a job work, only to be let down by burnout, bad feedback, or workplace misunderstandings.

I first came across the Zing Program in Edward Hallowell and John Ratey’s book ADHD 2.0. In it, Hallowell talks about a young boy from China named Samuel who had trouble in school with focus, retention of information and impulse control. Hallowell sent him a short version of the Zing program (see below) and asked his mother to make sure Samuel did the exercises every day for thirty minutes.

For the longest time I thought the theory of learning styles was based in legitimate research. I had encountered the theory during my time as a graduate student and now as a professor I knew some of my colleagues promoted it in their classes. It was not until a student of mine during some random discussion piped up and said: Learning styles have been debunked! I was stunned. And a little skeptical.

A week ago, it was the last day of school before summer break. I was standing outside with a group of other parents, chatting as we waited for our kids to come out of school for the last time this year. The conversations around me were full of excitement. There was lots of talk of sleeping in, fun activities, family vacations, trips to see relatives. Everyone seemed so relaxed and happy about the weeks ahead.

When I was a professor at a private university in the U.S., I was in charge of our Master’s program in Translation Studies. Alongside teaching courses on translation theories, one of my core responsibilities was preparing students for life after graduation and how to find jobs they actually enjoyed. Every year, I ran career seminars, and again and again, I came across one major point of anxiety: informational interviews.

Time and time again I have wondered why keeping a tidy home feels like such an impossible task. Or, as my friend likes to say, like chasing a moving train while wearing roller skates. I love that analogy! For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with keeping my space clean and organized. As a teenager, a messy room was a sign of independence, of mild rebellious behavior against my parents’ rules.

When people come to me for coaching, they often arrive with a sense of urgency. “I just need a few tips,” they say. “Something to help me stop procrastinating,” or “Maybe if I had the right calendar system, I’d finally get things done.” And I understand. I've been there myself, convinced that if I just found the perfect method, everything would fall into place.

If you’ve ever raised your voice at your child and instantly regretted it, you’re not alone. If you’ve told yourself this time I’ll stay calm, only to lose your temper five minutes later … yes, I’ve been there too. As a mom of a neurodivergent son, I navigate these emotional minefields every day. And as someone who teaches workshops for parents of kids with ADHD, I know this struggle is heartbreakingly common.