When I look back at my journey — the years I spent rushing toward code blues and heartbeats in emergency rooms — I realize that while I was saving lives, I was also losing something quietly at home.
My younger children were struggling in ways that I couldn’t fix with medication or monitoring. Their hearts were beating, but their spirits were fading beneath systems that misunderstood them.
I knew how to keep someone alive. But I didn’t yet know how to help a mind thrive.

That realization became my breaking point — and my beginning.

My Mind & Me was born from those moments of powerlessness, when I realized that healing a child’s brain requires more than crisis management; it requires curiosity, compassion, and collaboration. It requires a world where parents aren’t scrambling for answers in isolation, and teachers aren’t left interpreting behavior as rebellion instead of communication. It requires a system that listens to what a child’s brain is trying to say — even when words fail.

This work is not just my profession. It’s my purpose.
It’s every late-night search I made trying to understand how to help my children.
It’s every parent who sits across from me, eyes full of exhaustion and love, saying, “I just want to understand my child.”
It’s every teacher who wants to help but doesn’t know how.
And it’s every child who has ever been told they’re too much, too distracted, too emotional, too different — when in reality, they were too unseen.