Finding My Way Through the Chaos: A Year of Change, Challenge & Growth
This year has been one of the most emotionally intense and transformative chapters of my life. As 2024 came to a close, so did my 18 year marriage. The beginning of 2025 marked not only a new year but an entirely new life, learning how to co-parent, managing my own emotional well-being, and trying to ensure that my three children felt safe and supported as our family structure shifted.
Image of young woman following the path lighting up ahead.
Among the upheaval, my two eldest children transitioned into secondary school. For one of them, the move was smooth—bolstered by a school environment that’s been nurturing and understanding. For the other, however, it’s been anything but. The cracks in the mainstream education system became painfully clear. After years of supportive, tailored care in primary school, my son’s needs were simply not met. I found myself in a constant battle, advocating for his right to learn in a space that understood and respected his differences.
By the summer term, things had come to a head. His SEND (Special Educational Needs and Disabilities) needs were overlooked, underestimated, and ultimately ignored to the point where staying in the school was no longer an option. Since then, he’s been accessing limited education through online tutoring provided by the council. It’s not perfect, but it’s something—for now.
Amidst all of this, I’ve continued building my business and moving forward with my studies. I found myself in the final year of my psychology degree, with a focus on ADHD in women—a subject that’s deeply personal, especially since receiving my own diagnosis last year. I was lucky to have a group of incredible women participate in my research project, and their stories echoed so many of the feelings I’ve carried for years. The data revealed a powerful, shared narrative: of bright, misunderstood girls navigating a system that wasn’t designed for them.
The summer holidays came and went in a blur. In September, my youngest happily started school, my sons returned to Year 8, one in school and the other remains in education limbo as we continue to search for the right path forward.
On top of everything, I’ve also faced my own health battles. I finally had surgery for endometriosis; a long-overdue operation. I received news that I’ll be starting titration for ADHD medication. A long awaited step that brings hope for a bit more clarity and balance.
And then, just as I’ve been in the thick of recovery, I got the email. My degree classification: a 2:1. I cried. Not because of the grade itself (though I’m incredibly proud), but because of what it represents.
I’ve spent this entire year feeling like I’ve been holding it all together with string—constantly questioning if I’m doing enough, being enough, coping enough. Classic ADHD overthinking, combined with that familiar perfectionism that tells me I should always be doing more.
But today, I’m letting myself feel proud.
Through heartbreak, upheaval, parenting challenges, advocacy, work, study, health issues, and more—I kept going. I showed up. I did the work. And I finished this year with something that no one can take from me: the knowledge that I didn’t just survive, I grew.
There’s still a long road ahead. My son still needs a place in education that values and supports him. I’m still healing, still adjusting, still learning. But today, I’m taking a deep breath. Letting myself reflect. And holding on to feelings I often deny myself: pride and gratitude.
