INTRO:
Hi, my name is Kelly Kingman and I am an artist living in Los Angeles, California.And I am in the process of building my business, Splinter and Bloom.And also I have this great desire to share my experiences with ADHD. I was late diagnosed and was going to college. And really struggling and I had gone into UCLA and I was like, Oh my god, how in the world am I going to navigate this. So I got a psychologist or went back to a psychologist that I had gone to years before and said I need help. And in the process, I realized I had ADHD and she helped me along with all the wonderful podcasts I listened to and books that I read, which I will share down the road to get through college. And that's really what it was all about. It was like getting through the process. So anyways, I thought it might be interesting to do a podcast as well. I'm not always great at speaking because my mind pings around like a bouncing ball, which you will learn about as you read my blogs or listen to my podcast.
If you grew up with ADHD and trauma, or you were an expressive child who went quiet—please know you’re not alone.
Still Me is a space for remembering the parts of ourselves we buried or dimmed to survive. It’s for untangling the beautiful paradox of being both brilliant and unruly. For those of us who feel too much, think in galaxies, lose track of time, and live in metaphors.
This is where I share my experience navigating ADHD and nonlinear thinking, trauma, healing, and the art of becoming—through essays, reflections, and visual storytelling. You’ll find stories that trace my personal path but also open a mirror for your own.
You’ll also find essays on:
The hidden emotional labor of masking
Creative workarounds for executive dysfunction
The power of intuitive intelligence
Sensory overwhelm and sensory delight
The role of beauty, music, and art in healing
The shame spiral of "too much and not enough"
The relief of diagnosis, and the grief that follows
And the tools and actions I’ve taken to work with ADHD rather than against it
This space is not a guidebook. It’s a gathering place. A place to be messy, mystical, real, and resonant. A place to speak honestly about the costs of contorting ourselves into roles that never quite fit—and the freedom we reclaim when we stop.
It’s a love letter to the self that was never broken, only hidden beneath survival.
Still me. Still you. Welcome home.
