My story
Hello,
I'm Marion.
My Neurodivergent Journey OR How I Accidentally Collected Diagnoses
My path to understanding my own brain was like being guided by a GPS that I didn’t quite know how to read. It started when I was 5 with a dyslexia diagnosis. Luckily for me, it ran in the family, so my mum was watching us like a hawk—early intervention for the win! Fast forward to turning 40, and surprise! Giftedness diagnosis. And before you say "lucky you," it's called twice-exceptional for a reason, and spoiler alert: it's not always a party.
But the real plot twist came while I was homeschooling my Asperger's son through his OCD and PDA challenges. All my friends kept giving me these knowing looks until finally someone said, "Marion, you DO realise you're obviously on the spectrum too, right?" Cue the lightbulb moment that was apparently obvious to literally everyone except me—we neurospicy folk really do tend to find each other, don't we?
Then came the AuDHD revelation, and suddenly my entire life made sense. All those years of thinking I was just "a bit much" or "quirky." Turns out, I was just beautifully, chaotically neurodivergent.
My Professional Journey
Throughout my career, one thing remained constant: my obsession with people (in the best possible way). I've always been drawn to positions where I could train and mentor others - probably because I love asking questions, understanding how people tick, and have their lightbulb moments. I've been doing this for over twenty years, and it still gives me ridiculous amounts of joy.
In 2018, I felt this overwhelming urge to dive deeper into the messy, beautiful world of helping people. So I started volunteering for the Samaritans. Then, we moved to Quebec, where I studied victimology at the University of Montreal, became a certified trainer for men's mental health, and began working with various mental health organisations.
Back in the UK since 2021, I’ve trained as a counsellor and worked with several charities like Place2Be and Cruse Bereavement Services, while continuing to work remotely with Quebec non-profits, designing training to support men's mental health professionals through complex trauma.
It's Not Just Professional
When our son got his diagnosis, it simultaneously changed everything and absolutely nothing. We felt completely lost in trying to find support that actually understood how his mind worked. The number of times we heard "have you tried..." or "maybe if he would just..." Ugh.
I'm here for the parents who are googling at 2am wondering if they're doing everything wrong. I'm here for the adults who just discovered they're neurodivergent at 35, and are like "Wait, WHAT? This explains EVERYTHING!"
I'm a certified counsellor, member of the National Counselling and Psychotherapy Society (NCPS), but more importantly, I'm someone who's been in the trenches of neurodivergent life: the meltdowns, the masking, the "why is this so hard for me?" moments.
Be Kind. Be Curious. isn't just my professional method, it's literally how I've learned to survive my own beautifully chaotic brain, and how I'll help you navigate yours.
Because honestly? We're not broken. We're just operating on a different, and in my opinion, more interesting frequency.
“The things that make me different are the things that make me, me.”
Piglet
Be Kind.
Be Curious.
The beliefs behind the method.
Be Kind
Kindness isn't just about being nice - it's about creating a space where you can breathe. Where we don't have to explain why the fluorescent lights make us want to crawl out of our skin, why we need to know the agenda three days before a meeting, or why change feels like someone's rearranging our internal furniture without asking.
Being kind means we're not here to judge our coping mechanisms, our late-night Wikipedia spirals, or the fact that we've worn the same "safe" outfit to every important meeting for two years. There's no wrong way to be neurodivergent in this space.
It's about acceptance - not the patronizing kind where someone pats our head and says "bless your heart," but the real kind where our differences are genuinely welcomed. Whereour intensity about Victorian railway systems or our need to stim during conversations isn't something to be managed or hidden.
And yes, it's about care - the kind where we actually listen when our body and/or mind tells us what works for them, even if it sounds completely bonkers to everyone else. Because here's the thing: you're the expert on your own experience, and I'm here to support that expertise, not override it.
Curiosity
Curiosity is where the magic happens. It's approaching our beautiful, complex neurodivergent brain like a fascinating scientific experiment - not to fix anything, but to understand how this incredible machine works.
We become researchers of our own life, collecting data about what makes us thrive and what sends us into overwhelm. What happens when we get eight hours of sleep versus six? How does our focus change when we're fidgeting versus sitting still? What patterns emerge when we track our energy levels alongside our sensory environment?
There's something wonderfully freeing about approaching ourselves with genuine scientific curiosity rather than judgment. Instead of "Why am I like this?" we ask "How does this work?" Instead of "What's wrong with me?" we wonder, "What data are we missing?"
This curiosity removes the limitations that society has placed on neurodivergent minds. Maybe we don't need to fix our "time blindness" - maybe we need to understand our natural rhythms and work with them. Maybe our "executive dysfunction" is actually our brain protecting us from overwhelm in ways we haven't discovered yet.
We approach your neurospicy brain with the same sense of wonder a marine biologist brings to studying octopuses (octopi?)- these creatures are brilliant and complex, they just operate by completely different rules than we expected.
And that's not a problem to solve; it's a mystery to explore.