Introducing The Bridgework Project: From Personal Growth to Systemic Change
The Shrinking.
There have been many points in my life where I believed there was something wrong with me. I couldn’t seem to find solace in relationships, situations, or roles that others thought were perfect. I spent a lot of my life trying to shrink myself into spaces that were never designed with someone like me in mind.
But, what if everything I thought was breaking me was actually preparing me for something bigger?
I spent years repeating a mantra of compromise. We’re told over and over, relationships take compromise, work takes compromise, motherhood takes compromise. But where others saw compromise as deciding on pizza toppings or dividing chores, I saw it as shaving off my unique edges to fit into puzzles from boxes I didn’t belong in.
Relationships, jobs, and systems that others thought were ideal were suffocating to me. I was told to stay in my lane. I was told I was too much. I was told to focus primarily on what was working, rather than seeing what was not. My questions were seen as combative (rather than the search for understanding and context they truly were).
People and organizations don’t really want to know what is wrong. They want you to live in discomfort and quiet in order to maintain the status quo, even if your discomfort is a red flag for bigger problems. Leadership will tell you that conflict is necessary for growth, but in practice, it’s often treated as resistance.
So, we learn to adapt. We mask. We shrink ourselves to fit into arbitrary boxes that were never built for us.
When I started stepping out of these boxes it was awkward at first (it still can be). I made mistakes (still do). I had trouble truly realizing what I wanted or what I was capable of. But I had a feeling it was more than I imagined and one question kept coming to mind…
Why not me?
There was a part of me that knew I was meant for bigger things, but an often louder whisper telling me “That’s silly. That’s egotistical. Why you?”
But why not me?
I was starting to realize that I wasn’t just trying to find a place where I fit, I was instinctively building connections between what was and what could be. I was doing bridgework without even knowing it. I wasn’t just adapting to broken systems, I was identifying the gaps and imagining something better.
I am not meant for bigger things to serve myself or feed some innate internal desire. I am meant for bigger things because the world needs what I have to offer.
That discomfort that people and orgs don’t want to face? I have learned it is a tool, not a deterrent.
Discomfort signals growth and shows where we are out of alignment.
Discomfort reminds us that staying quiet doesn’t protect us, staying quiet keeps us from stepping into our power.
My discomfort taught me to stand firm in my integrity. My discomfort has led me here.
Many neurodivergent people are already accustomed to discomfort, because we’ve lived there. This means we’re not only able to endure uncertainty, we’re uniquely positioned to lead through it.
I thought I was just reinventing myself after 20 years in tech. But that reinvention was a seed and I believe it is growing into something that has the power to reshape everything.
But growth doesn’t happen in a vacuum.
As I went deeper into my reinvention, I realized I wasn’t just building a new life, I was uncovering a blueprint that could empower others, especially neurodivergent individuals, to reshape the systems around them. Because the more people who step into their authentic selves, the wider the ripple. And when that ripple grows? The world changes.
We’re living through a moment in history right now. Entire systems are crumbling before our eyes, and those who feel the shift most deeply are also the ones best equipped to rebuild what comes next.
Everyone can feel and see the shifts in the air, the obvious political climate aside:
Tech companies are downsizing talent at alarming rates.
Boycotts are on the rise as unethical business practices are exposed.
Rest is becoming a form of resistance.
Birth and marriage rates are plummeting.
And late-diagnosed neurodivergence is skyrocketing.
Between 2011 and 2022, autism diagnoses increased by 450% among adults aged 26–34, with the sharpest increases seen among female and racial minority populations (Grosvenor et al., 2024).
As systems fail, something will rise up to replace them. What comes next isn’t a question of if, it’s a question of who will shape it.
Intention.
Without intention, these new systems risk repeating the same patterns, reinforcing the same inequities. But with intention, led by those who have spent their lives navigating and reshaping broken systems, we have the power to create something different.
I also recognize that my experience, as a white, queer, and neurodivergent woman, is only one perspective. Many marginalized communities—especially Black, Indigenous, and People of Color, LGBTQIA+ folks, disabled communities, and others—have been navigating these same broken systems with far fewer resources and far greater risks.
They have been innovating, adapting, and building solutions long before the world acknowledged the need for change. True bridgework requires that we not only recognize this wisdom but center these voices as we move forward. Because a future built without their leadership isn’t a future where everyone thrives.
There’s a deep satisfaction in seeing what I’ve built come to life. Over the years, I’ve learned that working with intention and purpose, even through uncertainty and ambiguity, creates a foundation that can hold the weight of something bigger.
The truth is, there needs to be intention in developing sustainable and nurturing systems that give space for all of us to thrive, not just the few who happen to fit into outdated models.
Neurodivergent minds don’t just think differently, we build differently.
I have never fit nicely into a given role or job description. I refuse to stay on one side of anything. I always move beyond it, change it, and grow it. From my earliest days as a receptionist also creating web banners and learning HTML, to establishing the UX Engineering discipline as a bridge between design and engineering, and in my final throes establishing a strong cross-disciplinary team within our operations org. I see what doesn’t work and identify a system that does. I recognize patterns and connections that others don’t see right away and that is not a flaw. That is a superpower.
This ability to move between disciplines, to connect seemingly unrelated ideas and see patterns others miss isn’t just something I’ve learned. It’s something I’ve always been. Neurodivergent minds are natural bridges. We instinctively connect, translate, and build where others see only gaps. Because of this we are wired for systems thinking. Our non-linear, pattern-driven cognition is what allows us to see not just what’s broken or missing, but what could be built instead.
As Devon Price describes in Unmasking Autism, many of us didn’t just adapt, we became system analysts in our own lives.
Bridgework isn’t something we do. It’s who we are.
Anyone who has navigated life as neurodivergent—self-diagnosed or otherwise—knows this world wasn’t built for us. We’ve spent our lives masking, adapting, and creating systems to merely survive in spaces that weren’t designed with us in mind. For those whose identities intersect across race, gender, class, disability, and queerness, this navigation has been even more complex—and often more dangerous. And yes, we deserve accommodations. But the truth is… very few people thrive in the systems we’ve inherited. And that’s where divergent minds shine, because we know how to build systems that nurture.
Bridgework is the missing link.
With The Bridgework Project, I’m inviting you to build strength, identify gaps, and lead with intention. Together, we can create systems that nurture instead of confine.
The more attuned we are, the more we lean into these dreams, the more we risk sounding naive and say “why not me,” the better this world becomes for everyone.
This isn’t just a series of articles, it’s a blueprint for change.
The Bridgework Project provides a roadmap for stepping into your power and reshaping the world around you.
Over the coming months, I'll share insights, tools, and personal stories to help you step into your authenticity, set meaningful boundaries, and begin your own bridgework journey. But reading and reflection are just the first steps.
If you're feeling misaligned, stuck, or sensing that something bigger is calling to you, you're not alone. Starting now, I’m offering personalized support, discovery sessions to pinpoint what's keeping you stuck, and coaching to help you move forward with clarity and intention.
Bridgework isn’t just what we do, it’s who we are. This is a living, breathing, iterative process, just like us. If you're ready to explore what it means to be a bridge, I'd love for you to join me.