This became the trigger to a major life transformation. My sweet boy was refusing to return to school. Our family doctor suspected depression and issued a referral to a mental health clinic. Several appointments later, our introduction to neurodiversity began. Intensive counselling led to a diagnosis of Attention Deficit Disorder-Predominantly Inattentive (ADHD-PI), combined with clinical depression. My son was presented with the option of trialling medication, which he decided to pursue. After his first dose, he observed that his mind was still, and he was able to direct his concentration. His comment was “Is this what it’s like to feel normal?” We were both relieved - he, because it was confirmation that he was not a ‘bad’ kid, and me, because I had spent years at parent/teacher interviews questioning whether it was possible he had a learning disorder. Their response? “No, it’s definitely a bad attitude and laziness.” My newly confident son went on to complete his education, including a sound engineering course. As a young adult, he was able to build a career based on his passion, music. I also returned to study – primary school teaching – determined to be a more compassionate teacher than those my son had encountered. Around this time, I had my own neurodiversity awakening. Now in my 40’s, I was plagued by medical symptoms and multiple surgeries. After a swathe of tests, scans, and appointments, it emerged that I had a connective tissue disorder. Symptoms included hypermobile joints, migraines, and chronic joint and muscle pain. However, I also began experiencing brain fog and extreme exhaustion that left me immobile on the couch for days. More investigations and months of specialist appointments, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. Attending a medical appointment after a hectic day of teaching, the doctor observed me stumbling down the hallway with impaired balance. We hadn’t even reached his office when he declared “Hypermobility, migraines, and fibromyalgia. I think you have ADHD, and your daughter probably does, too.” This instant off-the-cuff diagnosis was not really met with surprise - we had frequently joked as a family that my son got his ADHD from me and his autistic traits from his dad. Both my girls, inheriting my up-beat, quirky sense of humour, flighty attention span, and impulsivity, have likely also inherited my neurodiversity. I pursued a diagnosis for ADHD, not because I felt my life was negatively impacted by my symptoms - I had spent a lifetime masking these and turning many of them into positive traits - but because there was emerging research that suggested ADHD medication may have a positive effect on the brain fog and chronic fatigue of fibromyalgia. These two symptoms were so life-altering that it had led to suicidal thoughts - anything that might help alleviate these two distressing symptoms was worth investigating. Meanwhile, our experience with the education system capitalised on my empathetic approach, placing ‘special’ little people in my class year after year. The observations made during my first five years of teaching also led to a Ph. D. study, which examined a potential association between the significant increase in school student suspensions and excessive use of screened devices. The results of this study can be found at https://researchonline.jcu.edu.au/66956/ (scientific paper published by the International Journal of Early Childhood Learning) and https://researchonline.jcu.edu.au/75659/ (doctoral thesis). This long, convoluted journey from shy schoolgirl to passionate, neurodiverse mother and special education teacher revealed my true calling: working with individuals and small groups to embrace what has long been termed a ‘disorder’ as their own unique gifts, talents, and traits. Some call it educating. Some call it coaching. I call it unfurling their wings.