Hi I’m
I didn’t plan this career, I lived my way into it.
For most of my professional life, I was a finance executive. Country CFO for a global organization. International postings. Boardrooms on multiple continents. I was good at it, and I knew I was good at it.
I was also exhausted in ways I couldn't explain, working harder than everyone around me to stay organized, to keep the plates spinning, to look like I had it all figured out. I didn't have a name for it yet.
In my early 40s, I was diagnosed with ADHD. Combined presentation. And honestly? My first feeling was relief. It finally made sense. The way my brain worked wasn't a flaw I'd been managing for decades. It was the thing that made me as sharp, as fast, and as effective as I'd always been.
My second feeling was: why didn't I catch this sooner?
The diagnosis changed everything. And then so did what came after.
I did something that felt right at the time. I disclosed my ADHD at work. I believed in transparency. I believed the organization would meet me where I was.
That's not what happened.
What followed was a period of workplace bullying and harassment that ultimately led to my departure. I left a career I'd built over decades, not because I couldn't do the job, but because I refused to stay somewhere that punished me for being honest about who I am.
Here's the thing I sit with: the same disclosure that cost me that career is the reason I'm here today. It led me to a community I didn't know I needed. It led me to coaching. It led me to work that actually matters. Both things are true, and I've stopped trying to make that neat.
This isn’t a second act. It’s the first time I’ve been fully myself at work.
I'm an ICF certified executive and ADHD coach. I built this practice from nothing to a waitlist in about three years, and I did it by being exactly who I am with every client who walks through the door.
I work primarily with women in leadership. Women who are smart, capable, and carrying more than anyone around them realizes. Many are neurodivergent. Some know it. Some are just starting to wonder. All of them deserve a coach who has been where they are, not someone who read about it in a textbook.
I also work with families and young people navigating ADHD, because I'm a mum of four and I know what it looks like when a kid's brain works differently and the world hasn't caught up yet.
My approach isn't always traditional. Some clients need me to sit with them in the silence after a hard question. Others need me to throw something on the table so they have something to react to. I call it kitten herding their ideas. The ICF purists might raise an eyebrow, but my clients get results, and that's what matters.
This isn’t a second act. It’s the first time I’ve been fully myself at work.
I'm a mum to four kids in a blended family. My husband and I met in Madagascar, which is a story for another day. I live and work across Treaty 7 and Treaty 6 territories in Alberta, and that matters to me.
I left a career that was costing me my integrity, and I built one that runs on it. Inclusion isn't a page on my website. It's how I show up in every conversation, every coaching session, every decision about who I work with and why.
I've turned down big money from clients whose values didn't align with mine. I've ended engagements early, compassionately and clearly, when the fit wasn't right. I don't do this work to fill a calendar. I do it because I genuinely believe that when someone like you partners with a coach who gets it, you start to see in yourself what everyone else already sees.
If you’re still reading this, that tells me something.
It tells me something on this page resonated. Maybe it was the ADHD piece. Maybe it was the leadership piece. Maybe it was just the feeling of reading someone's story and thinking "she actually gets it."
That's what the Alignment Session is for. Twenty-five minutes, no pressure, no pitch. Just a conversation to see if we're the right fit. Because coaching works best when there's trust, and trust starts with showing up honestly.
I just did. Your turn.