You Didn't "Fail" at Therapy...

A lot of neurodivergent folks have been to therapy before. And a lot of them share the exact same story with me: You spend the first few sessions overexplaining "who you are." You never quite feel understood. And quietly, almost automatically, you begin adjusting your behaviour so you can say you "did therapy" and the therapist feels comfortable. You came in completely overwhelmed, and you left feeling deeply misunderstood. Eventually, you just stopped going, carrying around a heavy, quiet belief that you somehow "failed" at therapy.

If that sounds familiar, I want you to hear me. It is not a "you" problem. It is a fit problem.

When I first heard the term "neuro-affirming therapy" a few years ago, I'm going to be honest—I was confused. I thought, Wait, isn't this just what therapy is? It was explaining how I had been practicing since I was a "baby" therapist. Back then, my core philosophy was "teaching people how to be an adult when they aren't sure how." I talked a lot about learning the tools to "human," genuinely believing everyone woke up every day thinking about how to "figure out how to exist."

Well, I later learned that specific struggle was actually just my own undiagnosed autism and ADHD. (Surprise! Me too.) But it turns out, my clients—both neurodivergent and neurotypical—profoundly identified with this structure anyway.

So, let's break down what neuro-affirming care actually looks like when we strip away the therapy talk, why it matters, and how my own late-diagnosed AuDHD shapes the way I practice.

The Masking Piece Nobody Talks About Enough

For years, I told myself that the reason I never stayed with a therapist for long was that I was "too picky" as a fellow therapist.

Nope. The truth? I was just masking. I knew the "rules" of therapy, so I played the role of the perfect, insightful client instead of actually letting myself be the client.

Most autistic adults are remarkably good at this. We have decades of practice. We've learned to make eye contact at the exact right intervals, modulate our tone, read the room, and adjust our energy to make others comfortable. By the time we sit on a therapy couch, the mask is so automatic we don't even realize we're wearing it.

But here is the problem: If you are masking in therapy, the therapy is only going to support your masked self. It cannot reach the unresourced, exhausted part of you underneath the mask.

A genuinely neuro-affirming approach doesn't expect you to drop the mask on day one, but it intentionally creates the safety so it's not needed. In my practice, that looks like shifting from correction to acceptance. I don't treat your communication style as a symptom to fix. In fact, I want your unmasked version to show up so that I can support this part of you too. Your neurodivergence isn't a malfunction; it's just the operating system of your brain.

Why Anxiety and Neurodivergence are Best Friends

Anxiety is the most common reason neurodivergent adults walk through my door. And it makes perfect sense when you look at what a single day actually demands of you:

Navigating social rules that weren't built for your brain.
Managing unpredictable, intrusive sensory environments.
Constantly monitoring your own behaviour in real time so you don't make allistic (non-autistic) people uncomfortable.

That is an astronomical mental load. Anxiety isn't a random glitch here; it's the nervous system's check-engine light, running on high alert for too long.

Traditional talk therapy often tells you to "change your thoughts to change your body." But for a neurodivergent brain, that top-down approach rarely works and often requires some other strategies to create change. A fun fact about me is that I completed my 200-hour Yoga Teacher Training and specialized in Restorative Yoga while I was in counselling school. Back then, I was following my hyperfixation on how the mind and body interconnect (aka more research on "how to people"). Today, I use those exact roots for bottom-up nervous system regulation. I don't treat your anxiety and your neurodivergence as separate items on a checklist; I look at how they feed each other, and we work to soothe the body to help support your unique operating system—asking the question: How can I connect with my experiences to understand myself better?

What a Session Actually Looks Like With Me

Because I spent years navigating my own undiagnosed autistic burnout, I have zero interest in therapy that feels aloof, vague, or only restates what you said back to you. My practice is grounded in the belief that everything you do—even your most "maladaptive" habits—comes from a deeply adaptive place of trying to survive. You learned how to show up and fit in, and now I want to support you in learning to show up as yourself and, as I have always said, live the life you've always dreamed of without so many "shoulds."

Because of that, our sessions will likely look different from traditional therapy:

Sensory Safety First: You want to wear sweatpants? Please do. Want to sit on the floor, dim the lights, or bring your knitting? Absolutely. Eye contact is entirely optional.
No Guessing Games: I use direct, unambiguous language (with a lot of analogies to support understanding). I will literally explain the therapeutic reason why I am asking a question so you never have to guess my hidden agenda.
Practical Over Abstract: We focus on functional goals. I care way more about helping you figure out "How can we make grocery shopping less draining?" than "How can we make you more social?" * Energy Accounting: One of the foundational tools I use with almost every client is an activity called Joys and Drains. We map out what fuels you versus what empties your tank, with the explicit goal of helping you finish your day with actual energy left over.

You Do Not Need a Piece of Paper to Reach Out

Let's clear this up right now: You do not need a formal, psychological assessment to access neuro-affirming support. Many of my clients are self-identified or standing on the edge of the rabbit hole, wondering whether this framework explains their struggles. Your lived experience is what matters, not an official diagnosis.

If you are finding out you are autistic or ADHD in your 30s, 40s, or 50s, that discovery brings a wild rollercoaster of emotions. There is immense relief, yes, but also a deep grief for the younger version of you who never got the support they deserved. There is often anger at the systems that missed you. Reframing your entire life history through a brand-new lens is massive, valid emotional work—and you shouldn't have to do it alone. I've been there, and I'd love to support you.

A Healing Step Forward

If you've had a bad therapy experience where you felt pressured to interpret vague emotional signals or read between the lines, please hear me: It was not a character flaw. It was just the wrong tool for your brain and operating system.

If you want to try again, I offer a free 15-minute consultation to see if working together is a good fit. I offer both in-person and virtual sessions, whichever works best for you.

In-Person: See me at the Guelph office (on Speedvale Ave). There is free parking, and the office is right on the second floor through the main entrance.
Virtual: If leaving the house or commuting feels like too high a demand, I offer online sessions for anyone living in Ontario.

The first step is just a simple reach-out. You can book a spot right in Jane (no need for the back-and-forth emails), and we can figure out the rest together—completely on your terms.