Returning to What Matters Most
A Softer Way Forward
I’ve been thinking a lot about how much life can change in a year.
This time last year, I was pregnant, tired in a way that sleep doesn’t fix, and holding a thousand quiet questions about who I was becoming. Now, I’m writing this as a mom to a nearly one-year-old little human who somehow changed everything and nothing all at once.
Parker turns one this spring.
That sentence still feels surreal to type.
Motherhood didn’t arrive as a single moment for me; it arrived in layers. In love. In exhaustion. In awe. In grief for the parts of myself that needed to shift so something new could exist. It cracked me open in the best and hardest ways, and it sharpened something I already knew deep down:
People don’t need more pressure.
They need more support.
Especially neurodivergent women.
I’m a wife, too. Married to a kind, caring partner who genuinely wants to show up well, even when neither of us has the language for what’s happening yet. I’m also a fur mom to Apukka, our sweet and sassy whippet who has been teaching me patience and presence long before Parker arrived. My life is full in ways that feel deeply meaningful… and also full in ways that can feel overwhelming if I don’t stay grounded in what matters.
That grounding — that return to values — has become the anchor of my work and my life.
What I’ve learned (personally and professionally)
I’ve spent years supporting neurodivergent individuals, couples, and families. I’ve listened to countless stories that sound different on the surface but share the same core themes underneath:
“Why does this feel harder for me than it seems to be for everyone else?”
“Why do I feel like I’m failing, even when I’m trying so hard?”
“Why am I so exhausted… all the time?”
What I’ve learned — especially as a neurodivergent woman myself — is that most of us aren’t broken. We’re overwhelmed, unsupported, and carrying way too much alone.
We’ve been taught to push through, optimize, fix ourselves, or just try harder, but that approach doesn’t work when your nervous system is already running on overdrive. It doesn’t work when you’re navigating hormones, parenting, partnership, sensory overload, executive dysfunction, or the invisible mental load that women so often carry by default.
What does work is slowing down enough to ask different questions.
Not “What’s wrong with me?”
But “What actually matters to me right now?”
Not “How do I force myself to change?”
But “What kind of support would make this feel more doable?”
Why values matter (and why I keep coming back to them)
A big part of my work is rooted in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, though I don’t believe in hiding behind jargon. At its core, this approach is about learning how to live in alignment with your values even when life is messy, loud, or uncomfortable.
It’s about noticing when your mind is trying to take over — demanding perfection, certainty, or control — and gently choosing something more compassionate instead.
For me, values look like:
Choosing presence over productivity when my son needs me.
Choosing nourishment over restriction when my body is depleted.
Choosing connection over “getting it right” in my marriage.
Choosing honesty over hustle in my work.
Values don’t make life perfect.
They make it meaningful.
That meaning becomes especially important when you’re neurodivergent because the world often isn’t built with you in mind.
Where I’m going (and what I’m building)
As I step into this new year, I feel clearer than ever about the direction I want my work to take.
I want to move beyond reactive support and into something more proactive, connected, and sustainable.
I want to create spaces where:
Neurodivergent women can exhale.
Relationships are supported, not pathologized.
Health and money are talked about gently, honestly, and without shame.
Support doesn’t end when the session does.
This spring, I’ll be launching a membership, a community rooted in values, nervous system care, practical strategies, and real connection. It’s something I’ve been quietly dreaming about for a long time, and motherhood gave me the final nudge to say: it’s time.
Not because I have everything figured out, but because I believe deeply that we’re not meant to do this alone.
I’ll also be writing more, sharing more resources, and creating ways to bring together the many modalities I work with because being “not just one thing” is not a flaw. It’s a strength.
If you’re here…
If you’re a neurodivergent woman who feels like life is both beautiful and overwhelming…
If you’re a partner trying to show up with more compassion: for yourself or someone you love…
If you’re craving support that feels grounded, human, and real…
You’re in the right place.
This year isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about returning to yourself with more care, more clarity, and more support than ever before, and I’d love to walk that path with you.
Your Neurodivergent Life & Relationship Guide,
Dr. Ali
P.S.
Want a sneak peek at some of my favorite ADHD-friendly tools?
🛍️ Browse the Amazon Shop
🖨️ Grab a printable from Etsy
💬 Or book a call to explore how we can support your unique brain & relationship — together.
