For more than a decade, I worked in emergency and critical care — the kind of nursing where seconds matter and every decision can save a life. As a rapid-response nurse, I was trained to act decisively, to stabilize chaos, to bring people back from the edge. But nothing prepared me for the quiet, relentless helplessness I felt as a mother trying to navigate systems that could not — or would not — see my younger children clearly.

In the hospital, I could save a life. But at home, I couldn’t seem to save the trajectory of my children’s minds.

Their brilliance was often mislabeled as defiance. Their struggles were interpreted as behavioral problems instead of signs of distress or dysregulation. I was given no roadmap, no tools, and no real understanding of how to advocate for their needs. Each attempt to seek help felt like grasping at straws — piecing together information from teachers, doctors, and specialists who were all looking through their own lenses, none of which saw the full child.

I began to realize that my children weren’t broken. The system was.

There was no measure of efficacy for the medications they were prescribed, no integration between home, school, and provider, and no one asking why.

Why does this child struggle to focus in class? Why does this one feel misunderstood or anxious? Why do we treat behavior as defiance rather than communication?

That realization changed everything.

It became the foundation for My Mind & Me — a care model and movement born from the intersection of medicine, neuroscience, and motherhood.

A model built not just to treat, but to understand.
Not just to medicate, but to measure meaningfully.
Not just to react, but to prevent.

My Mind & Me exists to fill the gap I fell through — to ensure that no parent, child, or teacher is left grasping in the dark, trying to interpret a child’s cry for help as anything less than what it truly is: a brain communicating its needs.