Living with mental and/or physical health challenges at a "young" age

Ambika M.

Everyone said certain health challenges that started in graduate school would go away once I left the stressful environment. But they were here to stay. While peers spend their vacation leave and money on trips, I spend my sick leave and funds on doctor's appointments and interventions - all while managing conditions and treatments discreetly for co-occurring conditions. If you struggle with sleep, pain, anxiety, or GI issues - as well as as "gymtimidation," or having to choose sneakers over cute heels - I'm here for you.

Navigate neurodivergence in the workplace with strength and self-trust

Angela V.

Being neurodivergent in a traditional work environment can feel like constantly trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. I’ve masked my ADHD for years—writing everything down, overpreparing, and pretending things didn’t overwhelm me when they absolutely did. It was exhausting. Eventually, I stopped trying to ‘fix’ myself and started leaning into what actually worked for me. I found ways to advocate for my needs, build systems that supported my brain, and let go of shame around doing things differently. If you’re navigating a similar path, I see you. There’s no one-size-fits-all way to succeed—and your brain is not broken. Let’s talk about how to own your strengths and thrive authentically.

Parenting with a disability

Ashley F.

I am legally blind. When I say "blind," I mean blind. I'm so blind that I can't even see enough to read large print. My primary means of reading are through Braille and audio, and I am able to do anything a sighted person can do on a smartphone with the help of Voiceover. Having a baby and navigating the early years is difficult. Add single motherhood, and things get rough. But how to navigate parenting when you're the only parent, blind, and being alone with your baby most of the time? I did it, and I came out the other side stronger, more resourceful. I learned to change a diaper with the help of my mother. She bought a baby doll and proceeded to have me practice on the doll. But boy oh boy, the day before she went back to work, the day before my first day of being alone with my baby, I was a wreck. Nerves on top of postpartum hormones? No thanks. Brush-washing bottles became learned by being shown and practiced as well. I made his formula by using a Brezza; I just needed a sighted person to preset the machine so that it would put the right amount of formula into the bottle. The difficulty really started when my son got to the "pointing" stage. He couldn't verbalize what he wanted; all he was able to do was point. And this blind bat couldn't figure out (yes I do make blind jokes and love it), so he'd fuss. But I pushed through. I would figure out what he wanted eventually through knowing his routine, learning his cries, and plain and simple trial and error. In parenting with a disability (regardless of what the disability may be), abounding love for the child, the right resources, and determination are the keys to success. It can be done; I'm living proof.

Single parenting from a healed place

Ashley F.

Hello! I’m a visually impaired single mom who’s been raising my son on my own since day one, and I know firsthand how overwhelming—and rewarding—that journey can be. When my husband left during my pregnancy, I was devastated. But leaning on my faith in God, the love of my family, and the strength I discovered in small everyday victories helped me keep going. My parents always believed in me and supported me through public school, and that encouragement laid the foundation for who I am today. I’m currently working toward becoming a Licensed Professional Counselor because I want to walk alongside others in their hardest seasons. I’ve battled clinical depression and PTSD, and I’ve come out stronger, more compassionate, and deeply committed to helping others feel seen, heard, and supported. If you’re navigating single parenthood, trauma, or just need someone to talk to who truly understands, I’m here—and I can’t wait to connect.

Let's discuss healthy ways of overcoming depression, bipolar 2 disorder, dual diagnoses in sobriety.

Brad F.

I'm Brad F, a peer support advocate with over 38 years of lived experience navigating a dual diagnosis bipolar 2 rapid cycling, depressive disorder. As a kid I didn't realize this but I had always been self medicating the bipolar 2 disorder with whatever I could get my hands on. A new toy, distraction, alcohol, drugs, Sudafed, NyQuil. My objective: stop the emotional pain. Drinking began at age 10 and it worked! I immediately felt better. Two DUIs before age 21, inpatient hospitalizations, the judge sent me to AA. 2 years sitting there, something stuck. I've been sober 35 years to date. 7/7/1990 sober bday. In sobriety I have experienced a tremendous amount of pain. I've found dual diagnosis requires additional tools beyond the AA 12 steps. What I've learned through experience: When pain exceeds one's tools for coping, suicidal ideation may arise. Healing does become possible by reducing pain or building coping resources. If this resonates and you'd like to talk, please reach out.

Parenting a neurodivergent child as a neurodivergent parent

Cassi c.

Becoming a parent completely shifted my world. Before my son was born, I was just living life moment-to-moment, but parenting pushed me to grow in ways I hadn’t imagined. Diagnosed as autistic in adulthood, I had to learn how to advocate not just for myself but also for my child, who is autistic and has ADHD. Our journey hasn’t always been smooth, especially when navigating systems or other adults who had negative views about neurodivergency. I’ve learned to set aside traditional expectations and instead celebrate my son’s unique way of being in the world. Through our gentle parenting approach, I’ve developed strategies for communication, collaboration, and skill-building that respect both of our needs. Parenting helped me find my voice and deepen my empathy, both for myself and others. I know how isolating and overwhelming this path can feel, and I’m here to offer support, validation, and real-world tools to anyone walking a similar journey.

trauma from psychiatric hospitalization.

Cristine “Talin” K.

For over 15 years, I was in and out of psychiatric hospitals—places that left me with trauma, nightmares, and deep shame. I was restrained, forcibly medicated, silenced, and treated as less than human. Many of the facilities were dirty, cold, and run by staff who ignored my autonomy and voice. These experiences shattered my trust in the mental health system. But through the pain, I found a fire for advocacy. I became a peer support specialist and started Unlock the Psych Ward Doors, a support group for survivors like me. I still carry the wounds, but I’ve found strength in speaking my truth. I hold space for others to process and heal from the dehumanization of forced treatment. I offer a safe space free of judgment, where pain is honored and voices are heard. I know what it’s like to feel voiceless—and I’m here to listen, believe, and walk beside anyone ready to reclaim their power.

Navigating chronic illness with resilience, self-advocacy, and hope

Holley B.

Living with over 25+ years of TWO invisible chronic illnesses has been a test of both my body and my mental health and spirit. For years, I felt dismissed and gaslit by doctors, misunderstood by those around me, and unheard in a world that often overlooks the complexity of invisible illness. My symptoms were real, but the support was not — and that left me feeling isolated, defeated, and at times, hopeless. But I made a choice: I would become my own best advocate. I researched, I asked hard questions, I pushed back when I was minimized, and I refused to give up on myself. I learned to listen to my body, to speak up in medical appointments, and to build a team that believed me. Balancing these health challenges while parenting, healing from trauma, and staying sober wasn’t easy — but it taught me what true strength looks like. I’ve faced discouragement, flares, and fear. But I’ve also discovered peace through acceptance, connection, and even joy within the struggle. If you’re dealing with chronic illness and feeling unheard, burned out, or alone, I want you to know that you matter. You deserve care, compassion, and hope — and together, we can talk about how to fight for it.

Overcoming traumas and learning to live again

Katrina N.

I am a 38 yr. old, INFJ, single mother of a precocious POC 3 yr. old daughter. My fiancée is a trans man, who is my 1st healthy relationship at 37 yrs old. I specialize in trauma! From being human trafficked to childhood rape, rape by my child's father and even having a BF threaten me with a revolver. You have a choice to let life continue to make a victim of you or keep living and learning. I chose the latter despite becoming disabled with a painful nerve condition at 22. It left me feeling altogether useless and unworthy of even basic respect. These feelings, paired with my conservative upbringing, allowed unscrupulous men to take advantage of me time and again. My condition slowly stole my mobility and health but I still had a mind and I used it! in 2025 I got my LASS degree. It's never too late to go back to school. To discover hobbies and passions, and to even stand up for others. I can be pessimistic, but I never stop trying. That's the key to life.

Finding peace after going no contact with family

Khelsei S.

Growing up, I was surrounded by abandonment, narcissism, emotional and physical abuse, and a toxic mix of religious trauma and racism. Even as a kid, I knew deep down it was wrong to judge or mistreat others, but standing up to it came with constant gaslighting and isolation. About 15 years ago, I made the decision to go no contact with my family, and it has been one of the most freeing and healing choices I’ve ever made. I realized I couldn’t change them, and trying only kept me stuck in a cycle of pain. Choosing peace over dysfunction allowed me to finally start living for myself and raising my child in a healthier environment. As a single mom with a disability, I face daily challenges, but I’ve built resilience through it all. I would love to offer support to anyone struggling with whether to go no contact, navigating the aftermath, or simply trying to heal from toxic family dynamics.

Coping when your life changes after becoming mobility disabled

Michael M.

When I injured my spine and could no longer teach martial arts, everything about my life shifted. I went from feeling strong, useful, and constantly in motion to feeling like the walls were closing in. Losing the career I loved (and the identity that came with it) sent me into a deep fog. I turned to weed and alcohol to shut off the pain, trying to escape from a life that didn’t feel like mine anymore. But the more I numbed out, the more stuck I became. It wasn’t until I opened up to the people who loved me like my wife and my friends, along with the help of a great therapist, that things began to shift. They helped me understand that while my life had changed, I still had value. I wasn’t broken, I was just in the middle of figuring out who I was now. Getting sober was part of that process, but the real work was learning how to live again with this new version of myself. I’ve been through the days where getting out of bed felt impossible, and I’ve learned how to build a life that works with my limits, not against them. If you’re facing a big life change due to disability, I’d be honored to talk with you: no fixing, no judgment, just honest conversation from someone who’s been there.

Communicating while neurodivergent

Mike C.

I spent years feeling like I was trying to translate my thoughts and emotions into a language that wasn’t mine. Conversations that seemed effortless for others—small talk, advocating for myself, expressing feelings without fear—felt exhausting. Being neurodivergent meant my brain processed interactions differently, and it wasn’t always easy for people to understand that. Over time, I learned that effective communication isn’t about forcing yourself to conform—it’s about discovering how you communicate best and finding strategies that help others meet you where you are. Whether it’s navigating relationships, workplace dynamics, or even daily interactions, having tools that honor your needs can make a huge difference. Through peer support, I’ve helped people uncover their communication strengths, manage overwhelm in social situations, and build confidence in expressing themselves authentically. You don’t have to mask or shrink yourself to be heard. Let’s explore what works for you.

What it means to think differently as a neurodivergent

Mike C.

I often feel like I'm operating on a different frequency—processing things in ways that made perfect sense to me but seemed confusing to the world around me. Whether it was how I approached conversations, structured my thoughts, or reacted to social dynamics, these spaces never jived with my design. At times, that led to frustration, self-doubt, and isolation. I either tried to mask my differences to blend in or leaned so far into them that I struggled to find common ground with others. It wasn’t until I started actively learning about neurodivergence that things truly shifted. My brain wasn’t ‘wrong’—it was just operating on a different set operating system. I know how important it is to uncover your strengths and advocate for your needs. If you’ve ever felt like you were constantly adjusting yourself just to be understood, this is an invitation to honor your unique mind and thrive in spaces that weren’t built for it.

Body struggles and self-worth

Ritika D.

There was a time my body felt like a stranger—unpredictable, weak, and disconnected from the version of me I used to know. I wanted to show up in the world like I used to, but chronic fatigue and recurring health issues made even simple things feel exhausting. People would say, “But you look fine!” and I’d smile while quietly spiraling inside. It took time to learn how to befriend my body again. I started listening to it instead of fighting it. I gave myself permission to rest, to say no, and to ask for support—even when it felt uncomfortable.

Healing after domestic violence, rebuilding after homelessness, and finding your community

Shania B.

Hi, I’m someone who believes deeply in the power of community and second chances. I’m polyamorous and currently in a relationship, and I’m working toward earning my Peer Recovery Specialist certification so I can continue helping others on their mental health journeys. I’ve been through some tough experiences, including domestic violence and periods of homelessness. For a while, I isolated myself, but reaching out for support changed everything. Through therapy and peer support groups, I was able to shift my mindset, heal from trauma, and rebuild my life with community at the center. Today, I’m passionate about providing a safe, nonjudgmental space for others who are navigating loneliness, relationship challenges, or recovery from trauma. Healing isn’t linear, but having someone walk alongside you can make all the difference—and I’m honored to be that person for anyone who needs it.

Job interview preparation as a neurodivergent individual

Solangel J.

Job interviews used to make me feel like I had to become someone else just to be taken seriously. I’d spend hours rehearsing ‘the right’ answers, trying to make perfect eye contact, overthinking every gesture, and wondering if I was saying too much—or not enough. I thought that if I could just play the part well enough, I might get through it. But the truth is, I wasn’t just nervous—I was masking. As someone with ADHD and autism, the traditional interview process wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was exhausting. I’d leave interviews feeling like I’d run a marathon… and not in a good way. It felt like I had to prove I was capable despite how my brain works, instead of because of it. Over time, I’ve learned how to prepare in ways that work for me. I’ve practiced advocating for my needs (even when it felt awkward), gotten better at recognizing which environments are actually a good fit, and started owning my strengths instead of trying to hide or over-explain them. Now, I approach interviews with a lot more self-trust and a lot less pressure to be someone I’m not. It doesn’t mean I don’t still get anxious—but I’ve got tools, scripts, and strategies that help me show up authentically and clearly. And you can too.

How a Psychiatric Advanced Directive (PAD) can help you advocate for yourself

Tim G.

I spent two years of my young adulthood in and out of psychiatric hospitals, sometimes voluntarily, sometimes not. During that time, I felt swallowed by depression, anxiety, and the aftermath of painful relationships that left me unsure if I’d ever feel free again. I was constantly cycling through crisis, often misunderstood, and sometimes silenced in the very systems that were supposed to help. Then I discovered Psychiatric Advanced Directives (PADs), and everything started to shift. I’ve used PADs to express my wishes, protect my rights, and bring my care team—my psychologist, naturopath, even legal support—into alignment. I’ve rewritten my PAD more times than I can count, especially after triggering experiences, because I’ve learned how powerful it is to state clearly what I need before a crisis hits. Creating a PAD has helped me not only stay safe but also stay connected to who I am, even in my hardest moments. Now, I want to help others do the same. If you’re navigating mental health challenges and want to build a plan that supports the practical imagination of frameworking for your own #ThisAbility, I’d love to walk you through what PADs are and how they can support your freedom, safety, and care.