I’m the one at the field with the folding chair, the extra granola bars, and two kids who have ADHD. Before any of that, I spent my late teens and twenties on retreats across India, Thailand and the East, learning meditation and yoga from people who had practiced them their whole lives. I came home with one job: make it usable for people with real kitchens.
Mostly in kitchens, sometimes in a support-group circle, often in a text at 9:40 p.m. that just says “rough one.” I’ve seen the sticker charts, the reward systems, the discipline plans, and the heartbreak of being told to try harder by someone who has never watched a child cry over a seam in a sock. I’ve also seen the courage it takes to show up the next morning anyway. Both of those are in every page I write.
Mindful Parenting for ADHD is the first book. It takes what I learned on the cushion and hands it to you in the size it actually fits: three breaths, sixty seconds, one hand on your heart. The next books are for the woman herself: self-love, ending the relationships that keep you small, and being who you actually are, not the version that keeps the peace.
What I believe, in one breath: we aren’t separate. The same breath moves through you, your child, and the stranger sighing behind you in the checkout line. When I remember that, I soften. When I forget, I have three breaths to find my way back.
Miranda Wellscome back to yourself