The beginning
It wasn't a business plan. It was a year.
Both of my daughters were held back a year before anyone worked out what was going on. It started small — reading came slower, math took longer — and by the time anyone said the words out loud, they'd already spent twelve months being quietly sorted. Pulled out of class for extra help, which meant missing whatever the rest of the class was doing, which meant falling further behind in the very thing they'd been pulled out to catch up on.
They noticed. Kids always notice. Long before an adult hands them a word for it, they've worked out that something about them isn't matching — and they've usually decided it's their fault.
That year is why Julliving exists — not because of the diagnosis, but because of everything that happened before it.
I'm a Brazilian-American mother with ADHD, raising daughters with ADHD. I'm not a psychiatrist, psychologist, or researcher, and I would never pretend to be. I'm a parent who needed better answers for her children, so I started reading, listening, asking questions, and paying close attention.
I found plenty of information about what an ADHD brain struggles with — and that information matters. But I kept searching for the rest of the picture. What comes naturally to this mind? When does it light up? What changes when the environment fits the child instead of always asking the child to fit?
I wanted my daughters — and other children like them — to understand both sides: what is hard, what is strong, and why neither one defines their worth.
So I began putting that other half into words.
What I make now
Julliving publishes picture books and printable activities for neurodivergent kids and the grown-ups walking beside them. The books are The Little Dragons Who Shine — Blaze, who discovers his flame; Fiora, who finds her focus; Ripple, who calms the storm. Each one is a child meeting the thing about themselves that everyone else has been calling a problem, and finding out what it's actually for.
Alongside them there's a framework I've been building called Dynamic Attention Intelligence — a way of asking not only where a brain falls short, but where it rises, and under what conditions. It's a working educational framework, not a test or a diagnosis, and I've written it up honestly enough that someone qualified could eventually check whether it holds.
What I want
I want a parent to notice something early and get their kid tested without feeling like they're filing paperwork on their child's character.
I want a teacher to look at a kid who won't start the worksheet and ask what's true about the conditions before concluding what's true about the child.
And I want kids to grow up hearing both halves. Not "you're gifted, actually." Just: here's what's hard, and here's what you're good at, and here's why the hard part happens, and none of it means something is wrong with who you are.
Why a dragon fruit
A dragon fruit is loud on the outside. Spikes, magenta, impossible to ignore. Open it and it's hundreds of tiny seeds — all of them there at once, all of them doing something.
That's the mind I live with. Not empty. Full.
And look closely at the mark. Inside the flame there's a u and an i. You and I. That's the whole promise — both of us belong here, and neither has to become the other.
Different deserves a wow.
Speaking, press & enquiries
I speak with parent groups, schools, and educator teams about self-esteem in neurodivergent kids and about the DAI framework. For speaking, press, review copies, or anything else, the fastest way to reach me is email.
One idea, once a month.
One small thing worth thinking about, one thing you can actually try this week, and a dragon-fruit wallpaper the moment you join.