Last summer, after moving back to North Carolina, I reconnected with a good friend and colleague. Together we wrote Educating the Uniquely Wired Child: The Workbook. To support the workbook, I launched a companion podcast that was originally intended to be just four episodes.
Four episodes turned into eight. Then eight turned into more. I kept going because I was having a blast, but also because I was hearing the same message from guest after guest: girls were still being missed when it came to ADHD identification and support.
That realization led me to a new goal: creating a community for parents of neurodivergent girls. Building a community meant stepping well outside my comfort zone. In addition to social media, it required networking locally (coffee meetings, introductions, and plenty of small talk). As an introvert, none of that comes naturally to me, but I believed in the idea enough to do it anyway.
Over the past month, I met with four different professionals in the community. The conversations went well. One, in particular, felt like a perfect partnership. I left that meeting convinced we would be working together in the future. Then came the silence. Three of those four contacts never followed up. Complete ghosting. I was disappointed, especially by the partnership I had felt so optimistic about, but I wasn’t ready to give up on the community idea.
Instead, I shifted gears. Rather than trying to build something entirely from scratch, I began researching organizations that were already supporting neurodivergent girls and their families. That’s when I found FINDtheADHDgirls.
As I explored the initiative, which is part of the Inattentive ADHD Coalition, I noticed several familiar names from my years at the Duke ADHD Program. I reached out to the founder and asked what systems they had in place to support their volunteer advocates (the people working in their local communities to help girls receive ADHD diagnoses before years of masking, self-doubt, and misunderstanding begin to take their toll).
She responded almost immediately. Not only did she share that they had been discussing exactly that challenge, but she told me they had recently drafted a position description for the role I was describing and asked if I would be willing to discuss it.
My answer was immediate: absolutely.
Before our meeting, she sent me the draft job description and asked for feedback. I drew heavily from my years recruiting, training, and retaining volunteers with Girl Scouts, offering suggestions around volunteer engagement, leadership pathways, recognition, and long-term retention.
During our conversation, she asked whether I would be interested in taking on the role as a volunteer while they pursue grant funding for the position. Knowing the people involved, their track record, and their experience securing funding from major organizations, I didn’t hesitate to say yes.
After nearly a year of searching job boards and LinkedIn postings, and ten months of writing, podcasting, and building Uniquely Wired Child, I finally found my next professional focus.
The best part is that this role is part-time, which means I can continue writing, podcasting, and growing the Uniquely Wired Child community while contributing to a mission that aligns perfectly with my professional passions.
For the first time in a long time, I’m not chasing opportunities.
I’m doing meaningful work.
Work that brings together three things I’ve cared about for decades: ADHD awareness, empowering girls, and supporting volunteers who make change happen in their own communities.
Looking back, I’m reminded that career paths rarely move in straight lines. Sometimes the opportunities you are certain about disappear. Sometimes the doors you expect to open remain firmly closed. And sometimes the opportunity you’re meant for appears only after you’ve exhausted all the others.
It may have taken longer than I expected, but I’m grateful I kept going long enough to find it.