Our Story

My work didn’t begin with a business plan. It began with our daughters.

Over the past couple of years, we’ve been on a journey that reshaped not only how we see education, but how we understand children, wellbeing, and what it really means to feel safe.

We are parents to two teenage daughters, both of whom have experienced school very differently from what we once expected.

Our eldest daughter was diagnosed with dyslexia at 15. For years before that, she had struggled quietly - feeling anxious, believing she wasn’t good enough, and questioning her own ability. School was a place where things often didn’t make sense, and where her confidence slowly wore down. Her diagnosis brought something we hadn’t fully realised she needed: understanding.

It helped her begin to make sense of herself - why things felt harder, why she processed things differently, and it gave her a foundation to rebuild her confidence from a place of self-awareness rather than self-doubt.

Our younger daughter’s journey has been longer, and in many ways, harder.

We had suspected autism for some time. We first tried to seek a diagnosis towards the end of primary school, but were told she didn’t meet the criteria - because she wasn’t showing those signs at school. A story I know many of you will relate to.

On the surface, she appeared to be coping. But as many families will recognise, what’s visible on the outside doesn’t always reflect what’s happening underneath.

The transition to secondary school brought new challenges. Year 7 looked manageable from the outside, but beneath that, things were building. By the start of Year 8, it became clear that she was struggling more than anyone had realised. Attendance began to drop. Certain subjects became overwhelming. The effort it took just to get through the day was increasing, and the cracks were beginning to show.

In October 2024, we received a private diagnosis of autism.

What followed was a long and often difficult process of trying to put the right support in place. We asked for adjustments that we felt were reasonable, such as changes to her timetable, flexibility around subjects, but we were repeatedly met with resistance.

Some support was introduced, but only temporarily. And then, just as she had begun to rely on that scaffolding to cope, it was taken away.

That was the turning point. She knew she couldn’t continue.

What followed was a period we now understand as autistic burnout. It was a time where functioning, in even the simplest sense, became incredibly difficult.

It was also the point where we had to make a decision.

We chose to stop listening to the noise around us.

We chose to stop focusing on what we were being told we should do. And instead, we chose to focus on our daughter.

We made the decision not to send her back into a school environment where she didn’t feel safe.

That wasn’t an easy choice. It came with questions, opinions, and a lot of uncertainty. But it was the right one.

We explored other options, including a trial at another mainstream school, but it became clear that it wasn’t about one school, it was about the environment itself. Mainstream simply wasn’t a place where she could thrive.

Home became her safe space.

In March 2025, she began online education, and that is where she continues to learn today.

Alongside this, we applied for an EHCP. The process was slow, and at times, incredibly challenging. We didn’t agree with the initial plan, particularly the view that mainstream school remained the most suitable setting.

So we pushed back. Through mediation in December 2025, we were able to secure an outcome that reflected what she actually needed - remaining on roll at her school, while her education and support are delivered in a way that works for her, funded through her EHCP. We were originally going to push for EOTAS but were told that the rules had recently changed on this.

We often describe that period as the point where she “burnt down.” Since then, she has been slowly rebuilding. Now she’s getting there slowly.

One of the hardest parts of this journey was how alone it felt. We were surrounded by opinions - about school, about attendance, about friendships, about what we should or shouldn’t be doing. But very few people truly understood what was happening for our daughter.

We came up against systems that didn’t always see her clearly. Professionals who didn’t always understand autism in the way we needed them to. And in the middle of all of that, we were trying to make the best decisions we could, with very little support.

At some point, we realised something important: When you let go of what you thought life would look like, it becomes much easier to make the right decisions for the child in front of you. That realisation changed everything.

It’s also the reason my work now exists. I didn’t set out to start a business. I set out to make sure no other parent feels as alone as we did.

Today, I offer coaching and specialist mentoring for families navigating autism and ADHD - not from theory, but from lived experience.

I work with parents who are trying to understand what their child needs, often while feeling unheard or unsupported.

I work with young people, helping them to understand themselves, to recognise where things feel difficult, and to begin finding ways to express that - because so often, they simply don’t have the words yet.

And I work with schools, supporting better understanding from the inside - so that children are not left trying to fit into environments that don’t work for them.

If I can help one child avoid the kind of trauma our daughter experienced, that matters. If I can help one parent feel less alone, that matters.

This isn’t just what I do, it’s why I do it.