You’ve Done the Research. Now It’s Time to Do the Work.

July 2, 2026ADHD, Anxiety, Autism, Career Challenges, Development Disorders, Dual Diagnosis (Substance use and mental health), For Parents, Relationships, Stress

Disclaimer: This post/article/blog is for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional mental health advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of qualified health providers with any questions you may have regarding mental health concerns.

Infographics were created by a mix of professionals and people with ADHD and selected by Katie to reflect what she has experienced personally and professionally.

Exploring Divergence
Katie
Hi, I'm Katie. I specialize in helping neurodivergent adults navigate complex challenges and lives. This blog is shaped by my own education and experiences as a therapist and neurodivergent person. It's not a definitive resource, not a textbook to be quoted or a manual to be followed. Instead, it's an offering—by someone who has spent too long living in and witnessing the growing disconnect between people and the cost of harmful misunderstandings.

A post for everyone who knows their attachment style, has read all the ADHD threads, and still feels stuck.

You Learned a Lot. That Actually Matters.

Let’s start here: the fact that you went looking is not embarrassing. It’s actually kind of remarkable.

At some point, something wasn’t adding up. Maybe you kept losing things. Maybe you cried in the car after a perfectly fine party. Maybe you’ve reread the same paragraph seventeen times and still have no idea what it said. You went looking for answers — and the internet gave you some.

You found the ADHD TikToks. The autism Instagram accounts. The trauma-informed therapists explaining nervous system responses in 60-second reels. You nodded along. You saved them. You sent them to people you love. You thought: finally, something that sounds like me.

That curiosity about your own mind? It’s not a symptom. It’s a strength. Wanting to understand yourself is how change starts.

But here’s the part nobody on TikTok is going to tell you.

Knowing About Something Is Not the Same as Healing It

Here’s an analogy that might land if you’re a bit of a nerd about how things work (no judgment — I am too): reading about how to ride a bike doesn’t put you on a bike. You can watch every video, understand the physics of balance, memorize the mechanics. And then you try, and you still wobble.

The scroll gives you language. Language is genuinely useful — it can reduce shame, help you explain yourself to others, and point you toward what you actually need. Understanding that your overwhelm is a nervous system response and not a character flaw? That can shift something real.

But the scroll can’t do the next part. It can’t sit with you while you figure out why the overwhelm keeps happening. It can’t notice the pattern you’re too close to see. It can’t offer a different frame for the story you’ve been telling yourself for 20 years. It can’t hold space for the messy, nonlinear, sometimes boring, sometimes uncomfortable work of actually changing.

That part is different. That part happens in a room — or a video call — with another person.

Why Therapy Isn’t Just “More Information”

A lot of people come to therapy thinking it’s going to feel like a very personalized podcast episode. Expert explains things. You understand things better. You leave.

Sometimes it starts that way. But the thing that actually makes therapy work isn’t information delivery. It’s relationship.

When you work with a therapist who gets neurodivergence, trauma and other aspects of mental health — not just from reading about it, but from training and experience and years of sitting with people whose brains work differently — something else becomes possible. You get to actually try things. To notice, in real time, what happens in your body when you talk about something that matters. To have someone reflect back what they’re observing. To be seen as a whole person, not a collection of traits or a checklist of symptoms.

This is especially true if you’re neurodivergent. The mainstream mental health content online is often written for neurotypical brains. It assumes that if you just understand your patterns, you’ll naturally change them. Executive functioning doesn’t really work that way. Motivation, follow-through, emotional regulation — these aren’t just mindset problems. They’re skill-building challenges, and they require actual practice, not just awareness.

You can know your triggers backward and forward and still not know what to do in the moment when they hit. That’s not a failure of self-knowledge. That’s just what the next step looks like.

You’re Not “Too Aware” for Therapy

One thing I hear sometimes: “I already know all this stuff about myself. I’m not sure therapy would tell me anything new.”

I hear you. I also want to gently push back.

Insight is not the same as integration. You can have complete intellectual clarity about why you do something and still do it. Knowing why you catastrophize doesn’t stop the catastrophizing. Understanding your avoidance patterns doesn’t automatically give you traction. Recognizing a trauma response doesn’t mean you know how to move through it.

The work isn’t about becoming more informed. It’s about having a space where the knowing can actually land somewhere — where you can practice being different, not just thinking differently.

And honestly? Some of what you’ve pieced together on your own might need some gentle revision. Not because you’re wrong, but because self-diagnosis through content has real limitations. Social media content isn’t made by people who know you. It’s made to resonate broadly. Your situation is specific. You deserve something specific back.

What It Looks Like to Work With Me

If you’re neurodivergent — or you suspect you might be — I want you to know that the therapy I offer is built around how your brain actually works.

That means low-demand sessions when that’s what you need. It means we can talk about video games or hyperfocus spirals or the exhaustion of masking. It means I’m not going to pathologize the things that are actually strengths. It means the structure of our work together gets to flex.

I specialize in ADHD, autism, anxiety, trauma, and the particular kind of exhaustion that comes from spending your whole life trying to function in systems that weren’t designed for you.

I’m a neurodivergent-affirming therapist in Washington and Vermont. I do telehealth, which means you can show up however you need to — from your car, your closet, your bed with the lights off. No commute, no waiting room, no fluorescent lights. Just the work.