17/09/2026
This is our reception area. And I have some feelings about reception areas, so bear with me.
I once told a psychiatrist I wanted an ADHD assessment. They told me I couldn’t have ADHD because I’d done well at school.
I had dropped out of school. And university.
It’s quite something, having to explain your own life to someone who has already decided what it means.
A lot of us neurodivergent folk, and those of us with chronic health conditions, have had experiences of being dismissed or disbelieved in healthcare. Being passed from one professional to another, explaining it all again, and starting to feel like you’re being seen as the problem. Sometimes the person with the power in that room seems to know who you are before they’ve really listened to you.
That can stay with you. Walking into another clinic, sitting in another reception area, wondering whether you’re about to do the whole thing again. I understand why that might feel scary.
It’s a big part of why I set up Mindkit. I wanted a place where we take the time to understand what someone is telling us. Where we get curious about the details, look at how experiences connect, and explain our thinking with enough care that you can question it, add to it, or tell us we’ve missed something.
I want you to feel that your clinician is willing to do that work with you. You shouldn’t have to fight to get your own experience into the conversation.
And I think about that before anyone even gets to the assessment room. How you’re welcomed. Whether there’s room to say you’re nervous. Whether you feel you have to brace yourself.
A nice lamp and some plants can’t undo what happened in another clinic. I know that. But I want even these small moments of arriving and being welcomed to give you the possibility of a different experience. Of being listened to. Of starting to feel a little safer, at your own pace.
That’s what I’m thinking about when I show you our reception area.
Ruth
