When I became a mom, my relationship with ADHD changed forever. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about me trying to manage my racing thoughts, messy closets, or 3 am idea storms. It was about the example I wanted to set for my children.
If you have ADHD like me, there’s a one in four chance that one of your parents does, too. That means my kids may grow up to learn and think like me and that’s not something to hide, it’s something to celebrate. In our home, I want them to know that different doesn’t mean broken. Every brain deserves to shine.
For most of my life, I thought something was wrong with me. I was the girl who couldn’t sit still, who forgot things, who didn’t thrive in traditional classrooms. People told me to “try harder.” So, I masked — smiling, performing, overachieving — while feeling like I was constantly falling behind. Like so many women with ADHD, I learned to sparkle on the outside while feeling chaotic inside.
Motherhood changed that. I don’t want my children to inherit my silence. I want them to see that their minds, however they work, are not messy; they’re magical.
My brain has always felt like a Ferrari with bicycle brakes — powerful, but hard to control. But that’s also what’s helped me pioneer new worlds from reality TV to the selfie, from my fragrance empire to founding 11:11 Media. My ADHD doesn’t slow me down; it fuels my creativity. Some days, my mind feels like a browser with 100 tabs open. But instead of fighting that, I’ve learned to see it as a gift; an endless engine of ideas and imagination.
That’s why I’m open with my kids about my ADHD: the ups, the downs, the sparkles and the struggles. The best thing I can teach them isn’t perfection; it’s how to design a life that works for them.
Because what I’ve realized is that when we design for every kind of mind, we make life better for every kind of person.
That’s why I’ve made it my mission to change the narrative and I’ve personally found so much power in sharing and owning my story. Whether it’s reforming the “Troubled Teen” Industry or speaking publicly about ADHD, I want people to understand that neurodiversity isn’t something to fix.
If you’re reading this and any of it sounds familiar, please know: you’re not broken. It might take time to find the systems that help you thrive, but once you do, life gets lighter.
ADHD gave me the courage to break the mold, to take risks, to think differently, to lead with empathy. That’s the legacy I want to pass on to my children: not a life of masking, but a life of belonging.
Different isn’t wrong … it’s wonderful. And when we embrace that, we don’t just change our own lives but we change the world for the next generation.
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