Message for My Readers

 

Dear Reader: What My ADHD Brain Taught Me About Reinvention


When people ask me why I teach reinvention the way I do—why I lead with curiosity, keep the roadmap flexible, and cheer people on no matter where they end up—I often smile and say, “Because I’ve lived in a brain that doesn’t fit the mold.”

And I want you to know that, right off the top.

This isn’t just something I studied. It’s something I am.

Living with ADHD and neurodivergence hasn’t just shaped how I move through the world—it’s shaped how I hold space for you to move through yours.

This blog is a little love letter to you, from the wiring of my own wonderfully unconventional mind.

Seeing the World in Black & White (And Missing the Wink)

When I was younger, the world felt strict. Clean-cut. Right or wrong. Good or bad. Policy said what to do and how to do it—and I followed the script with the enthusiasm of a wind-up toy at full tension.

But here’s what most people didn’t see: the grey areas were like fog to me. A wink-wink from a boss? I genuinely thought they had something in their eye. “Use your judgment” was code I never received. If something wasn’t explicitly stated, I’d ask questions. So many questions. Endlessly.

And those questions wore people down. I could see it. I just didn’t know how to stop.

My Mouth Ran Marathons, My Heart Just Wanted Connection

I talked—a lot. I still do. I process externally. I think out loud. I sometimes discover my own point halfway through explaining it.

But back then, it made people uncomfortable. I saw eyes glaze over, people pull away, opportunities evaporate. I couldn’t figure out why conversation—this thing that felt so natural and necessary to me—was such a barrier.

The truth? I wasn’t broken. I was just wired differently.

And once I realized that, a shift happened.

The Breakthrough? People Don’t Always Follow the Plan

When I became a career counselor, I stepped into a strange kind of clarity. I had this beautiful opportunity to study people. And I began to see the beautiful chaos of humanity.

We’d create a roadmap together—clear goals, deadlines, next steps—and then, poof. A client would change their mind. Scrap the whole thing. Pivot. Choose something I never saw coming.

And for a while, I fought it. I asked ChatGPT for magic words to keep clients on the plan. “How do I convince them to follow through?” I’d ask. “What do I say to keep them on the path?”

The answer kept circling back:

> You don’t. > You can’t. > It’s not your path—it’s theirs.

And that, for someone whose brain was wired for structure and clarity, was the most liberating lesson of all.

So Now? I Celebrate the Pivot

I stopped trying to force people into the plan. I started watching where they naturally wanted to go—and I chose to go with them.

Every small win? I celebrate it like it’s a standing ovation. Every plot twist? I lean in with curiosity. Every detour? I trust there’s something sacred in it.

Because I finally realized—reinvention is not a tidy staircase upward. It’s a dance. A conversation with life. A series of choices, re-choices, and gentle redirections.

And as someone who’s lived most of her life needing a little grace for how she operates, I’ve decided to offer that same grace to everyone who learns with me.

Dear Reader, I See You (All of You)

So if you’re reading this and you’ve been told you’re too much or too scattered... If you’ve ever had someone look at you sideways for how you process… If you’ve ever felt like you had to follow the rules exactly to feel safe—or like you wanted to burn the whole rulebook down—

I just want you to know: You are seen. You are not the problem. Your brain is brilliant. Even if it buzzes or bolts or over-questions or overflows.

And if you’re walking through a season of reinvention, and your path doesn’t look linear or logical—I’m not here to judge.

I’m here to cheer. To guide. To remind you that you don’t need to get it perfect to be making progress.

Why I Teach This Way

I teach reinvention the way I do because I know how hard it is to feel like you're behind when your brain doesn’t run in straight lines.

I know how lonely it can feel to try to explain your internal world to people who only hear the words and not the meaning beneath them.

I know what it’s like to crave freedom while also needing structure—and trying to dance between the two without falling on your face.

So I won’t lock you into a five-year plan. I won’t shame you for changing your mind. I won’t act surprised when you blossom in directions you never expected.

In fact, I count on it.

You constantly amaze me. And my job? It’s not to steer your ship. It’s to light your path, remind you of your brilliance, and throw confetti when you break the mold—again.

Final Thought: Reinvention Doesn’t Require Rewiring Who You Are

If you take nothing else from this letter, take this:

You don’t have to become someone else to reinvent your life. You just have to give yourself permission to grow in the direction that fits you best.

And if your reinvention is a little messy, a little non-linear, a little “neurospicy,” as I like to say—I’m here for it.

All of it.

Thanks for trusting me to walk beside you. Now go chase that next version of you. I can’t wait to see where it leads.

Veronica

“Let your pivots be powerful.

Changing your mind isn’t a weakness—it’s a superpower.”

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