(And why high achievers often don’t experience theirs)

Success. It’s something we all want, right? And something that, on paper, many of my coaching clients have in spades.

I’ve had it myself. People comment on my achievements now and, honestly? I feel a bit disconnected from them most of the time. Sometimes it feels like it all happened to someone else.

This blog has sat unfinished for months. Not because I didn’t have something to say—but because I had too much to say. Too many emotions, too many layers. And if I’m honest, some of those layers have been hard to face.

I’ve shared versions of this with fellow ADHD-ers, and each time it takes on a new level, a new dimension. Neurotypical people have gently suggested I break it down into bite-sized articles—but my brain doesn’t want to do that. So here it is. All of it. In one go. Spicy and sprawling, just like me…

Ahead of starting my coaching qualification, I had pondered at length how my relationship with my late mother (and father) would show up in ‘my stuff’ as I worked through my journey to becoming a coach. Being a coach is about understanding yourself so you can understand others. Furthermore, I believe understanding the imprint of your early experience is important to who you are as a leader. My early experiences were not straightforward; plenty of trauma with big and small Ts…

So, I was watching a Netflix documentary about dogs last night (I know, shocker—me watching something about dogs). And the theory of ‘survival of the friendliest’ got me thinking. Generally, I always try to be more dog in life anyway—enjoy food and eat with gusto, appreciate good weather, go for a walk, and last but not least, if you see a fun-looking body of water, jump in it! But all that aside, and in seriousness, I think there’s something in this ‘survival of the friendliest’ bit when it comes to modern life.