Alyssa Smith

I don't attribute my success to having all the answers. I attribute it to finally letting go of the idea that I needed them before I could help someone else. For years, I believed the person people wanted to learn from was polished, perfectly put together, and somehow untouched by struggle. As a single, neurodivergent parent raising two wildly different humans (one with ADHD), there were seasons when I wondered,

"Who would ever look at my life and think, 'That's who I want parenting advice from?'"

Then, after more than a year in career coaching, a coach asked me one simple question:

"But are you actually loving your work?"

I burst into tears. Not because my business wasn't successful...Because I realized I had been building a career around who I thought I should be instead of who I actually was. And where I’d always been at my best: relationships. That moment forced me to stop trying to be palatable—to stop chasing the path that felt "safe" enough—and start trusting my lived experience, much of which I'd hidden for years, as one of my greatest strengths.

Today, I know families don't need someone who does everything perfectly. Not even close. They need someone who's willing to be honest about the messy parts, stay curious, keep growing, and help them do the same. My greatest strengths were never perfection or certainty.

They're self-awareness. Humility. Honesty. And the desire to never stop learning.

Ironically, the very experiences I once believed disqualified me—raising neurodivergent children, navigating loss, solo parenting, moving across countries, and constantly questioning myself—became the experiences that allow me to sit beside families without judgment and show up wholeheartedly. That's the foundation of my work. Not perfection. Presence. And the belief that when we're willing to revisit what's not working with curiosity, honesty, and hope. Change is always possible.

The best career advice I ever received eventually became the advice I gave. Stop asking what you should do. Start paying attention to who you already are. As a career coach, I saw it over and over again. People were looking for the perfect next step when what they really needed was permission to trust themselves. To notice what energized them. To notice what came naturally. To notice where joy and skill intersected. That's where meaningful work usually begins. Funny enough, following that advice is what eventually led me here.

My advice is to work on yourself first...and to keep doing it. Parents don't need another expert with perfect answers.

They need someone who's willing to question their own assumptions, notice their own patterns, and model what growth actually looks like.

Also? Leave society's expectations for parents and children at the door. Whenever you catch yourself thinking, "A good parent should..."

or, "Children are supposed to..." pause and ask:

Who taught me that?

Is it true?

Is it mine to carry?

The most powerful thing we can offer families isn't perfection. It's permission. Permission to be honest. To repair. To seek support when we need it. To ask questions and stick around for the answers even when they're uncomfortable. And to let their children see what it looks like to be beautifully, imperfectly, vulnerably human - because that's what allows our children to be the same.

One of the biggest challenges in parenting today is that the world our children are growing into is changing faster than ever before.

We can't possibly prepare them for every situation they'll encounter. What we can do is help them develop the skills they'll need no matter what the future looks like: curiosity, flexibility, resilience, self-awareness, and the confidence to tackle challenges they haven't seen before.

That's why I believe the opportunity in this field is shifting away from simply managing children's behavior and toward strengthening the relationships and life skills that allow families to navigate uncertainty together. Whether a child has ADHD or not, every child is growing an executive brain. They're all learning how to plan, regulate emotions, solve problems, recover from mistakes, and think independently.

When we focus on building those capacities—instead of simply getting through today's challenge—we prepare children not just for school, but for life. Rather than trying to pave the way for our children, I believe our greatest opportunity is to prepare them for the world…and to show them they never have to face it alone.

Curiosity is the value that anchors almost everything I do. It's the antidote to judgment, shame, and power struggles. When we become curious—about ourselves, our children, and the stories we're telling—we make room for growth. I also deeply value honesty. Not the kind that demands perfection, but the kind that says, "I'm having a hard day," or "I got that wrong," and trusts that relationships become stronger through repair, not flawless performance. As a parent, I want my children to know they don't have to hide their struggles, because I don't hide mine. We talk openly, lean on one another, and remind each other that nobody has to carry hard things alone. That belief extends to every family I coach. I want parents to leave with more than practical strategies. I want them to leave trusting themselves, trusting their relationships, and believing their family doesn't have to be perfect to thrive. Because the values I care about most aren't perfection or performance. They're curiosity, connection, courage, and the confidence that grows when people know they're loved exactly where they are.