Hi, I'm Claire
And I already know what you’re going through — not because I read about it, but because I lived it.
I was the one who always had too much on. Multiple jobs, endless energy, always up for the next challenge.
On the outside, thriving. On the inside, something was deeply wrong — and I couldn’t find the words for it.
Then the wheels came off.
Not dramatically. Just slowly, then all at once. I went from chaos to inertia. Numb. Paralysed. Unable to remember what day it was or hold a thought long enough to write it down.
The doctors said anxiety. Depression. I knew it was neither. I knew what anxiety looked like.
I knew what depression felt like. This was something else entirely — and nobody had a name for it.
A trashy magazine changed everything
A friend left a magazine in my car. I flicked through it on the walk from the car park to my front door.
There was a woman my age. Her story was almost exactly mine.
I didn’t know what it was called yet. But by the end of that week — deep in the most productive hyperfocus of my life — I knew.
My brain was wired differently. The decades of struggling, masking, performing, and falling short weren’t character flaws.
They were the entirely predictable result of a brain trying to survive in a system that was never built for it.
I have no idea what my life would look like now if I hadn’t found that article. I don’t let myself think about it for too long.
What came next wasn’t a straight line
Knowing changed everything — and nothing — all at once.
I still had to unlearn a lifetime of internalised ableism I didn’t even know I was carrying. Build shame resilience slowly, imperfectly, without a map. Learn — the hard way — when to let go of environments that were disabling me.
I held on to some of them longer than was good for me or the people around me.
That’s not a confession. That’s the work.
What I offer now is what I needed then. Not a magic wand. Not a fix. Just someone who already believes you — and knows how to help you find your way back to yourself.
On rigour — because it matters
I trained at five universities. I never went to a single graduation ceremony.
I’m a qualified Social Worker, an accredited Coach, and a Certified ADHD Clinical Services Provider. I spent nine years as CEO of an award winning charity. I have over twenty years of lived and professional experience with neurodivergent adults.
I tell you this not to impress you — but because this space is full of people with a $7 certification and no lived experience. You deserve to know the difference.
The Brené Brown story
I was in Sydney for a once in a lifetime training opportunity to become a Certified Daring Way Facilitator. Drinks reception on the harbour. Brené came out for a meet and greet and the room erupted.
I cheered. I raised my glass. I threw my hands up a little too enthusiastically — and sent a full glass of prosecco flying over my shoulder onto a crowded patio where it shattered on the floor.
Every. Single. Person. Went. Silent.
I wanted to walk into Sydney Harbour.
I tell this story because it’s the most perfectly neurodivergent thing that has ever happened at a shame resilience training. And because Brené would probably say something useful about what happened next — which was that I laughed, apologised, and resisted the urge to immediately run back to my room and hide.
It made for a pretty awkward photo op.
A few other things worth knowing...
I was recruited to join a girl band in the late 90s. We recorded a cover of Shania Twain’s You’re Still The One. It was a fun and short lived experience. Artistic differences. 😉
I live by the sea. I start most days with a sunrise walk. On a good day, I’m on my paddleboard.
I will never not be excited by dolphins.
I am always found in the kitchen at parties — helping out, topping up food, having the conversations that happen naturally when people flow through. Mingling was never my thing. Depth always was.
I make a daily choice to live my life grounded in principles of vulnerability and equity.
