Key To Achieving Therapy Service Ltd

14/11/2025

Parenting hits differently when you start truly understanding your own energetic patterns alongside your child’s.

Fridays are my day off with my son, and I really treasure them. It’s our little pause before he starts school next year, a day where I try to slow down and actually be with him.

I’m a Manifestor.
He’s a Manifesting Generator.

When I started exploring Human Design as part of the business development programme I’m on, one of the first things I did was run our entire family’s charts. I was curious about how our energies interplayed, how our patterns collided, and how much of our day to day dynamic might actually make sense from this perspective.

And honestly, the contrast between our designs is something I feel in my body every single day.

As a Manifestor, I’m wired to follow the spark. When inspiration hits, my mind runs, my energy shifts, and I drift into whatever has lit me up. It’s instinctive, internal, absorbed.

My son’s MG energy is the opposite flavour of intensity. His body is expressive, quick, and responsive. He moves from one interest to the next with momentum that feels almost instinctive. He also has a powerful need for autonomy, and if I’m not fully present with him in the moment he’s in, he’ll disengage completely. What makes it even more interesting is the timing. He’ll get absorbed in something and I can’t move him on, so I step back and follow my own spark for a while. Then suddenly he’s ready to shift, but by that point I’m deep in my own flow and not ready to transition. So we end up missing each other, over and over, especially on days without a clear structure. On days like today, where the plan is fluid, our energies can feel like two trains running on different tracks.

Tomorrow should be easier, because there’s a clear time and place we’re going, so the transition might be bumpy but at least it is predictable. The challenge comes when the environment is unstructured and everything depends on our internal rhythms, because his pace shifts far faster than mine, and he needs the next activity to be something he genuinely wants, not something led by me. And of course he’s four, and I’m forty-four, so his momentum is entirely age-appropriate. It’s just a very intense dance between two strong internal worlds.

Some days, that dance is beautiful.
And some days, it is chaotic.

But here’s the part I’m learning to honour.
None of this is personal.
None of this is misbehaviour.
None of this is a flaw in either of us.

It’s just two different nervous systems trying to co-exist in the same space.

His need for movement is part of who he is.
My need for freedom and creative space is part of who I am.
Understanding that softens everything.

When I bring together what I know from sensory integration, nervous system regulation, my lived experience, and this early exploration of Human Design, it helps me parent with more compassion for both of us.

It helps me see the patterns behind the moments.
It helps me respond instead of react.
And it helps me honour both of our needs without shame.

This blend of sensory insight, regulation science, and compassionate interpretation is the foundation of something I’m slowly developing in my work, something I’m calling the Regulation Blueprint. It’s designed to help families understand how their unique energies interact, where friction points occur, and how to find rhythms that feel safer for everyone involved.

It’s early stages, but it feels deeply aligned with where I'm at as a practitioner and a parent.

If that’s something you’d love to learn more about as it evolves, comment “blueprint” or send me a message so I know who’s interested.

13/11/2025

Something I keep seeing at the moment is the huge gap between looking fine and actually feeling safe.

Three very different families today, three completely different stories, and the same pattern. Children trying to survive environments that don’t understand their nervous system, while the system tells parents “but they seem fine”. And honestly, it is painful watching the nuance get lost.

A child who is masking can look calm and still be in panic.
A child who is quiet can be overwhelmed.
A child who complies can be shutting down.
And a child who refuses is often the one telling the truth the clearest.

Then I sit with a young person who is finally in a safe environment, and everything changes. Not because they try harder, but because they have people around them who communicate, listen, and actually understand how their body and mind work. Safety creates space for growth. Predictability creates space for thinking. Understanding creates space for connection.

This is the piece the system keeps missing.
Children don’t need to “look fine”.
They need to feel safe.

Once you start seeing through that lens, everything clicks into place.

And honestly, it isn’t rocket science, yet so many people still miss the link between felt safety and a person’s capacity to learn, relate, and actually be themselves. The challenge is that safety is different for everyone. It takes a curious, compassionate mind to slow down, listen, and figure out what safety truly feels like for each individual.

If this resonates, comment below with what “felt safety” looks like for your child or yourself.
Share this post if you want more people to understand this.
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12/11/2025

I've just got off a zoom call and I'm buzzing: I had my Human Design chart read.

Not as “fun woo-woo evening activity,” but as part of my serious business development work.

And honestly, it landed harder than I expected.

For context:
I am an AuDHD OT with hypermobility, FND in my history, a nervous system that has been through it, and a business that has grown fast, messy and full-on over nine years.

I already knew the clinical language.
The trauma language.
The nervous system language.

What I did not have was a clean, non-pathologising way to describe this pattern:

1. Intense surges of creative energy, followed by absolute non-negotiable need for retreat

2. Being brilliant at conceptualising and initiating, and totally drained by long-term “doing and doing”

3. Deep need for autonomy, yet years of people pleasing, over-giving and taking on misaligned clients

4. A body that literally shut me down when I would not stop

Human Design called that pattern “Manifestor energy” and instead of labelling it as a problem, it framed it as my natural way of operating.

And that did something in my system.

A few big reflections from the session:

Validation matters.
Hearing “you are not broken, you are built for initiating and then resting” landed very differently to “you need to be more consistent.” My body softened. My nervous system believed it.

My body has been louder and more honest than my mind.
Burnout, insomnia, migraines, FND episodes, pain from hypermobility; all of it has been my body screaming, “You cannot keep running like a generator. You are not one.”

Pressure and urgency are my red flags.
Hard-sell programmes, controlling people, “you have to decide right now” energy; my chart literally highlighted pressure as a wound. Which explains why I can feel physically unsafe in those spaces, and why I am now walking away from them faster.

Peace is not a luxury; it is a strategy.
We named that my “success metric” is not hustle, it is peacefulness. Choir, fire ceremonies, crystals with my son, grounding, quiet evenings, saying no. These are not extras, they are the foundation that makes any sustainable business possible for me.

Client fit is everything.
We talked openly about how my energy works best with self-responsible, aligned clients who value directness and autonomy, not people who want to control the process or hand me their unprocessed anger. That alone will change the way I screen, accept and, if needed, decline work.

Here is why I am sharing this publicly, as a clinician:

Because “alternative” tools can be deeply supportive when we use them as:
• Language for lived experience
• Mirrors, not masters
• Ways to find compassion and alignment, not excuses to bypass reality

Human Design did not diagnose me.
It did not replace OT, neurology, psychology or medicine.

What it did do was give me a framework to honour what my body and nervous system have been telling me for years, and to design my business in a way that actually fits the person running it.

More rest.
More intentional yes and no.
More peacefulness baked into the structure, not tacked on at the end.

That is where the real “development” is happening for me this year.

If you are a neurodivergent human who has felt broken by all the “shoulds” and productivity rules, I see you.

You are allowed to build a life and business that fits your actual wiring, not the template you were sold.

I am going to be talking more about this blend of clinical work, nervous system awareness and “alternative” validation tools over the next few months as I reshape my offers and my boundaries.

If that kind of honest, slightly woo, very practical conversation is your thing, come and join me.

11/11/2025

The Right Fit Feels Like Partnership

(A quiet thank you to the families who make this work what it is.)

Yesterday, I spoke about the challenges that can come when expectations and communication styles don’t align. That reflection wasn’t about blame. It was about clarity. Because clarity creates space for connection.

Today, I want to focus on the other side of that coin.
The moments that work. The people who make this work possible.

The families and young people I connect with deeply are the ones who remind me what partnership really means. They show up with openness, honesty, and a willingness to learn together. They ask questions, share insights, and trust that I’m human too.

They understand that therapy isn’t a transaction, it’s a relationship.
That growth happens when we hold curiosity, patience, and kindness in equal measure.
And that respect flows both ways: from practitioner to family, and back again.

I see you. I see the effort it takes to stay hopeful in systems that can feel impossible. I see the bravery it takes to try again when you’ve been let down before. And I see the love behind every question, every story, every attempt to make life a little easier for your child.

So, this is a quiet thank you.
To those who meet the work with grace, humour, reflection, and trust.
You are the reason this work still feels meaningful, even on the hard days.

We all know the feeling when something just fits. When you’re understood, respected, and supported in a way that feels safe and true. That’s my experience from this side of the work.
I’d love to hear from you. What does the “right fit” look or feel like for you, in your world?

Here’s to the partnerships that feel grounded, kind, and human.

10/11/2025

Why Being Liked Is Overrated: Lessons from a Neurodivergent Business Owner

Learning to balance authenticity, autonomy, and compassion even when it means not being everyone’s cup of tea
Many neurodivergent people end up carving their own path in business. Often not out of ambition alone, but necessity. Running a small business offers what most traditional workplaces don’t: autonomy, flexibility, creative control, and the chance to build an environment that actually works for our nervous systems.

But with that freedom comes a unique set of challenges. The same traits that make us visionary, intuitive, and relentless can also make business ownership exhausting. We juggle capacity, sensory limits, executive function hurdles, and the emotional weight of wanting to do good work without burning out.

That same need for autonomy also creates tension in a world that still runs on the idea that “the customer is always right.”
For many neurodivergent people, including me, that phrase can feel like a threat to autonomy and safety. It pushes directly against our need for mutual respect, collaboration, and psychological equality. I’ve learned that I don’t fare well in dynamics where payment is mistaken for permission to control, to dictate, or to treat a professional as an employee rather than a collaborator.

And yet, I understand how it happens. People are stressed. Systems are failing them. They reach out, desperate for help and clarity. But being trauma-informed means recognising that stress doesn’t excuse disrespect. Autonomy and empathy can coexist; they have to, for this work to remain safe for everyone involved.

I live with AuDHD, hEDS and FND. That combination brings creativity, empathy, and drive, but also physical limits and executive-function challenges.

This past year, I’ve faced capacity strain, long waiting lists, and frustration from families who wanted instant answers or total availability. I care deeply, but I’m learning that caring doesn’t mean self-erasure.

For years, I was a therapist first and a business owner by accident. Lately, I’ve been diving into the business world properly through training, learning, and stretching myself in uncomfortable ways.

Because when you run a neurodivergent-led service, you don’t just manage operations; you hold people’s stories, your own health, and your values all at once.

A lesson from Stephen Bartlett stuck with me: if everyone likes you, you’re probably not standing for anything. That’s a tough pill for a lifelong people-pleaser who’s masked through conflict avoidance and rejection sensitivity. But leadership means tolerating discomfort.

I’m not a miracle worker. I’m a neurodivergent, trauma-informed parent and clinician balancing ethics, capacity, and humanity. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, and that’s okay. The people who align with my work value transparency, collaboration, and honesty over control.

And the truth is, we only know what we know.

The more I learn, especially stepping into the business world, the more I realise how much there still is to understand about human behaviour, power dynamics, and the messy middle between compassion and autonomy.

So, I’d really love to hear from you.

What conversations would you like to see more of here? What do you want to understand better about neurodivergent practice, business, or the human side of this work?

(And please, spare me the RSD by commenting so I know someone’s actually reading this.)

Let’s keep learning out loud together.

30/10/2025

Many of the families I work with have spent years fighting for their children to be seen, understood, and educated safely.

Years of meetings, emails, complaints, and sleepless nights.
Years of being told to wait.
Years of holding their nerve because walking away would mean their child got nothing.

And now, finally, the Local Government & Social Care Ombudsman has released a report "Out of school, out of sight?” that recognises exactly what these families have been shouting into the void all along.

It confirms that when a child can’t attend school because it isn’t suitable, the Local Authority has a legal duty to provide alternative, full-time, suitable education.
It confirms that being on roll isn’t enough.
It confirms that ignoring professional advice, or leaving children out of education for months or years, is not acceptable practice. It's maladministration.

This document exists because families didn’t let it drop.
Because they took it all the way complaints, appeals, tribunals, and the LGO itself.
Because they kept going when every system told them to give up.

So yes, this report matters. But what matters even more is why it exists at all.
It’s the result of relentless advocacy by parents who had no choice but to become experts, case managers, and campaigners for their own children.

To those families: you’re the reason awareness is shifting.
You’re the reason professionals like me have something stronger to stand on.
And you’re the reason future children might not have to go through the same fight.

Thank you for holding the line.
You shouldn’t have had to but because you did, change is starting to happen.

https://www.lgo.org.uk/assets/attach/6865/Children-out-of-school-F.pdf?fbclid=IwdGRjcANwtXpleHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHn8bB2Pov7fr_lymYrCy1FAhhSoKuKYkrYuru78nZV95a4zmIhHQcvK24yif_aem_zgFQ5XyBiQo6DaH6zxFs6A

06/10/2025

I wasn’t expecting Kellie Bright’s documentary to hit me so hard.
I watch families go through these struggles every day. The endless fight for understanding, the exhaustion, the heartbreak of being unseen. It’s my work, it’s what I hold space for.

But watching it on screen, told through the eyes of a parent and a public figure, caught me completely off guard.
Because it’s not just what I see in others. It's what I live too.

As a neurodivergent person, I felt every bit of that tension between love and overwhelm, advocacy and burnout, visibility and invisibility. Seeing it reflected on national television felt both validating and devastating. Finally, the reality so many of us know was there in plain sight, messy, emotional, human.

I wish there were more of this.
More honesty, more depth, more space for neurodivergent voices. Not just as subjects of documentaries, but as the storytellers too.

Kellie Bright meets parents fighting for the right education for their autistic children.

08/09/2025

I appreciate Dr Amir Khan bringing attention to Functional Neurological Disorder (FND), because it’s a condition that desperately needs more public understanding. But some of the wording falls short and can be harmful for people living with it.

Saying FND is triggered by mental health trauma’ risks reinforcing stigma. The idea that symptoms are imagined, or ‘all in the mind.’ Trauma is trauma. It is not ‘mental health.’ Trauma is an event or a series of events. This could include illness, injury, abuse, loss, systemic harm, sensory overload, or stress. Trauma affects the whole body and nervous system, not just the mind.

FND is a condition where the brain and body stop communicating in expected ways, leading to very real physical symptoms. For some people, trauma plays a role. For others, illness, injury, or other stressors are more central. Often it’s a mix of factors. To reduce it down to ‘mental health trauma’ is not only inaccurate but dismissive of the lived reality of many people.

This matters because language shapes how FND is understood, believed, and treated. Too many people with FND have been dismissed, gaslit, or funnelled into services that don’t meet their needs because of misconceptions like this.

If we want to raise awareness, we need accurate, affirming language that reflects the complexity of FND and honours the experiences of those living with it.