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.

When I worked as a professor in the States, I often felt like I was barely keeping my head above water. I loved teaching. I was interested in my field of German Studies. I enjoyed doing research, working on collaborative projects and was eager to support my students. But at the end of the day, I was constantly exhausted.

Last summer, I hit a breaking point. I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the pile of dishes in the sink while listening to my two sons fighting in their room, and I just lost it. Not in a loud, dramatic way but more like a quiet, exhausted collapse. My son had come home with a teacher’s note that he forgot to do his homework (again), a parent had called to complain about my son’s impulsive behavior toward her daughter and we had just been thrown out of my son’s soccer club because my son was spacing off too much during practice.

When I was a student, I hated oral performance grades. They always seemed to be somewhat unfair. I was a natural talker and participated quite a bit. But I was also easily bored and liked to chat with my classmates. Consequently, my teachers wouldn’t give me the high grade I thought I’d definitely deserved because they felt I was a distraction to my peers and disrespected my teachers by not paying enough attention.

My son and I used to have our fair share of battles over screen time. For him, it was mainly about Minecraft or Roblox since he was — and is — still quite young. But if he were older, we would have probably fought about social media such as TikTok and YouTube as well. I felt quite torn since screens are both an incredibly soothing tool for my son and a source of constant tension in our household.

Two weeks ago, I wrote an article about the challenges of reading social cues when we have ADHD. Today’s post takes that conversation in a different direction. A direction that’s equally important and equally challenging: networking when you're neurodivergent.

As an ADHD coach, I see it all the time: For many people with ADHD, the challenges don’t stop at focus, organization, or time management. One of the most overlooked and painful struggles lies in the challenge of finding meaningful social connections. Of course, not everyone faces the same difficulties. Some neurodivergent people are social butterflies, with great friendships and wonderful groups they belong to.

Test-taking anxiety is a common struggle for many students. When I was a professor, I saw it again and again: the fear in students’ eyes, the nervousness before an exam, the trembling of their voices when they had to give a presentation. Ultimately, I tried to eliminate as many tests as possible and had students do projects instead. Or I gave them a choice between several possible test modalities they could choose from.