I grew up in a country where the concept of neurodiversity simply did not exist. Children who were different were often excluded from society, left to fend for themselves, and in some heartbreaking cases, even abandoned. There was little understanding, no support, and no language to explain why some minds worked differently from others.

I was one of those neurodivergent children. Through a combination of luck, resilience, and sheer determination, I learned to mirror a neurotypical routine in order to survive and belong. It was exhausting, and for a long time I believed that struggling was simply my fault.

When I began my studies at a red brick university, it became clear that I experienced the world differently. In my final year of my undergraduate degree, I received a formal diagnosis. It was a turning point. Suddenly, so much of my life made sense. With understanding came support, and with support came confidence. I went on to complete my postgraduate degree with distinction — a direct result of learning how my neurodivergent brain works and being supported to thrive, rather than simply cope.

My journey became even more personal when my eldest child was born with a rare condition and is on the autism spectrum. As a parent, I cannot imagine any child navigating education — or life's extraordinary adventure — without support, guidance, and the freedom to nurture their natural abilities.