why i chose brain-friendly business over corporate safety
this is how i stopped selling out my nervous system for stability—and started building something that lets me breathe.
I used to think I just wasn’t cut out for corporate life.
I’d sit in meetings trying to sound “normal” while my brain buzzed like a mosquito stuck in a bottle. Always scanning. Always adapting. I’d point out something obvious—something broken—and suddenly I was “too intense.” “Too much.” “Not a team player.”
So I learned to shrink. I learned to smile. I learned to mask like my life depended on it—because it kinda did.
That mask got me jobs. It also almost broke me.
the third layoff (aka the slowest heartbreak of my career)
In August 2024, the company announced layoffs. A few days later, I got the news: it was me.
But here’s the catch—they still needed me to work for two more months.
So I kept showing up. Kept delivering. Kept pretending like I wasn’t grieving the loss of a job I was still doing (and actually loved).
It wasn’t about hope. It was about survival. I needed the severance. I didn’t want to “burn bridges.” I didn’t want to make things awkward.
But it felt like working my own funeral.
Every meeting was a little goodbye. Every task was a weird performance of “everything’s fine.” By the time I shut my laptop for the last time, I wasn’t even angry.
I was just… empty.
the invisible tax of “belonging”
Being in corporate was never about skill for me. It was about stamina. Emotional endurance.
Could I keep translating my ideas into “safe” language? Could I keep wearing the costume? Could I keep predicting what each hiring manager wanted to hear—and shape-shift accordingly?
And the whole time, I was being told:
“Bring your authentic self to work.”
“We’re like a family here.”
“We value different perspectives.”
While that may be true some places, it’s not true all places.
Every time I showed up real, I got dinged for it. Every time I masked, I lost a little more of myself.
By the third layoff, the math was clear. The “safe path” was the most dangerous thing I’d ever done to my health.
so i stopped trying to belong
And I started building something instead.
Not because I had it all figured out. Not because I had funding. Hell, I’m still making minimum payments on my credit cards and going month to month on rent.
But for the first time, I’m not betraying my nervous system to make a paycheck.
That trade-off? Totally worth it.
the real reason i’m building this business
I tried lots of things at first—freelancing, podcast support, system design for others.
But everything kept pointing me back to one question:
how can ai actually support neurodivergent entrepreneurs—without turning us into productivity robots?
So I built a business to explore that question.
This isn’t a tech bro funnel. This isn’t another “how to 10x your business using chatbots” thing.
This is a space for people like me. Who think fast. Feel deep. Get sensory overload. Hate small talk. And can’t keep contorting themselves to fit into corporate molds that were never made for them.
what working with my brain (not against it) actually looks like
Yes, it’s expensive. But the way it reduces email friction is unmatched. Plus it mimics how I speak—so I can unlearn some of the corporate tone trauma and respond like myself.
It guards my focus time like a dragon with a sword. Especially when I overcommit (which… I do. Constantly). If more than 3 meetings pop up? It builds a moat around my calendar.
We fight sometimes. But for big-picture planning and building content, it helps me externalize my thinking when my brain feels like 74 browser tabs.
claude + chatgpt
I’ve trained both to know my business. I use them to draft ideas, structure projects, or just talk out loud when I need to simulate a team. I still make all the calls—discernment is my superpower—but they help me get unstuck.
no 9–5 leash
I still feel the ghost of “business hours” tugging at me. That old conditioning runs deep. But I’m slowly unlearning it. Some days I start working at noon. Some days at 2am. My energy leads now—not the clock.
yes, it’s scary. but it’s real.
Here’s what I know:
I’m not rich. I’m not fully stable. And I’m definitely not “optimized.”
But I sleep through the night.
I don’t dread Monday mornings.
I’m not playing psychological Twister just to be “employable.”
And the feedback I’m getting? It tells me this work matters.
People tell me:
“I didn’t know I was allowed to work this way.”
“I’ve never heard anyone talk about AI and neurodivergence like this.”
“I finally feel like my brain isn’t the problem.”
That’s what keeps me going. Not hustle. Not scale. Not downloads.
Alignment.
why this matters for you
If you’re neurodivergent, here’s what I wish someone had told me:
You’re not broken.
Your systems are.
And no, you don’t have to keep borrowing ones that were built for someone else’s brain.
I’m building this for you. For us.
It’s not just about AI. It’s about making space—for experimentation, nuance, mistakes, rest, clarity. For actual freedom.
Not “freedom” like a boss baby YouTuber selling a dream.
Freedom like: I don’t have to mask to make rent.
this isn’t a brand. it’s a rebellion.
I don’t have all the answers.
But I know what it feels like to be brilliant and exhausted. To be labeled “difficult” because you care deeply. To be told to “just regulate better” when your nervous system is in full meltdown mode.
So I’m here.
To build a brain-friendly business.
To share tools that meet you where you are.
To use AI as a support system, not a status symbol.
To invite you into something slower, softer, sharper.
because honestly? I’d rather be scared building something real than safe playing pretend.
So yeah. That’s why I chose this path. That’s why I’m still walking it.
And if you’re standing at that same crossroads… wondering if there’s another way?
There is.
Come build it with me.
your brain isn’t the barrier. the system is.
let’s replace it with systems that care.
🎧 Want more context (and a few tangents I didn’t write down)?
Hit play on the voiceover or subscribe to the podcast. I usually add extra thoughts, rants, or stuff that didn’t make it into the text. Think of it like the director’s commentary—just with more sighs and fewer edits.
PS:
This post contains a few referral and affiliate links—tools I actually use, love, and hype up to friends in voice notes. If you decide to try any of them, I may earn a small commission (at no extra cost to you). It helps me keep building brain-friendly resources like this. Thanks for supporting the weird, soft, non-hustle way of doing business.
Excited to be able to follow you here!