ADHD
If you or someone you know has ADHD, you already know how depressing it is to know what you need to do, but never being able to reach your potential. The gap between how hard you're trying and what people think of your effort makes you feel shame. You've probably been called lazy, careless, too much, not enough — sometimes by other people, and now, by yourself.
I know exactly how hard life with ADHD is. Because I have it.
My story
ADHD didn't just make school hard for me. It made life hard. I struggled with relationships — staying present, following through, being the person I wanted to be for the people I loved. I struggled with confidence, because when you fail at "simple" things often enough, you start to believe the problem is you. I made impulsive decisions I had to clean up for years afterward. And managing the basics of my own life — money, time, health, follow-through — often felt like trying to hold water in my hands.
And yet, with this same brain, I got into UC Berkeley. I built a career at some of the top companies in the Bay Area — Adobe, Meta, and Cisco. Today I'm a therapist trainee, I run one of the fastest-growing channels on YouTube, and this year I launched my own coaching practice — which is already filling with clients.
I'm telling you because for most of that time, people thought I was succeeding despite my ADHD, but in private I was falling apart and struggling because of it. The external wins were real, but so was the chaos underneath them.
What changed everything wasn't another planner, another app, or another round of white-knuckled discipline. It was a real healing journey — understanding how my brain actually works, grieving the years I spent at war with it, and building systems and relationships designed for the brain I have instead of the brain I was told I should have. That's when I stopped surviving and started thriving. And that's exactly what I help my clients do.
ADHD is not a character flaw
Here's what I want you to understand: most of what hurts about ADHD isn't the ADHD itself. It's the shame that builds up around it. Decades of being misunderstood teaches you to misunderstand yourself. You internalize a story — I'm unreliable, I'm a mess, I can't be trusted with my own life — and then you live inside that story.
Coaching works on both layers at once:
The practical layer — attention, time, organization, follow-through, impulsivity. Real systems built for an ADHD brain, not neurotypical advice with extra steps.
The identity layer — the shame, the self-blame, the confidence that got eroded one missed deadline at a time. Because no productivity system survives a person who believes they're broken.
Who I work with
Students with ADHD who want to get into top colleges. I've been the bright kid drowning in a system not built for my brain — and I still got into Berkeley. I help students turn their ADHD from the thing sabotaging their applications into a story of resilience, while building the executive function skills to actually perform: grades, essays, deadlines, all of it.
Adults with ADHD who want to thrive at work and in relationships. Promotions you keep missing. Projects that die at 80%. Partners who feel forgotten. The constant low hum of "I should be further along by now." I've lived all of it, in some of the most demanding workplaces in tech — and I help my clients build careers and relationships that finally match their potential.
What working together looks like
This isn't someone reading you tips you could find on Google. It's a relationship with someone who has sat exactly where you're sitting — and found the way through. Together we will:
Get an honest picture of where ADHD is actually costing you — and where you've been blaming yourself for things that were never moral failures.
Build systems that fit your brain, your energy, and your life.
Rebuild the confidence ADHD has spent years tearing down.
Create accountability that feels like support, not surveillance.
You don't have to keep doing this alone
You've already tried harder than most people will ever understand. Trying harder was never the missing piece. The missing piece is someone who gets it, a plan built for your brain, and support that doesn't quit when you have a bad week.
If any of this is landing, that recognition is the first step. The next one is letting someone help you carry it.