Tigrilla Gardenia Facebook ad: “I want to tell you about someone I…”

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Meta Ad Library ID

1271530404500091

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network, Messenger, WhatsApp and Threads

Relaunches

0

EU reach

4,808

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Ad text

I want to tell you about someone I worked with. They were an engineer. Brilliant at what they did, respected in their field, and quietly exhausted in a way that a good night's sleep never quite fixed. After every major project deadline, they would crash. Not the normal tired-after-a-big-push kind of crash. The kind where they needed sick days just to recover from being themselves inside a system that did not recognize how their mind actually worked. They are neurodivergent. The problem was that their industry had exactly one template for what a high-performing engineer looked like, and that had nothing to do with how their mind worked. Every time they tried to fit into this box, the crash came faster. Outside of work, they were taking courses in subjects that had nothing obvious to do with engineering. Writing. Agriculture. Dance. They loved every single one of them. But they rarely finished the certification process or went to work in those fields, so they carried a steady guilt about the time they spent on things that felt, to them, like indulgences. They came to me partly because they needed a coach who could speak both languages. Someone who understood what it means to thrive in technical infrastructure—I am a music and electrical engineer who has worked on EU development projects including Biomimicry-based water systems—and who also knew what it was like to be deeply alternative and spiritual inside that world without hiding either part. What we found when we looked at their whole history was not a scattered collection of interests. It was a pattern. Every rabbit hole they had ever gone down, every course they had felt guilty about, every deep dive that seemed to go nowhere, was an expression of the same function: gathering knowledge from unexpected terrains and making it available to the ecosystem when it was needed. They were not failing at being a conventional engineer. They were succeeding at something their industry did not yet have a word for. Once they saw that, three things shifted. They stopped trying to work the way a neurotypical engineer would. We built morning and evening rituals that honored how their mind actually cycled. We found ways to structure their projects so they could go deep rather than wide. The sick days after deadlines started to disappear. They stopped feeling guilty about the courses. Taking a course just to learn, with no intention of completing a certification or working in that field, became an act of professional nourishment rather than a personal indulgence. Because they understood their pattern, they trusted that the knowledge would eventually reach who needed it simply by them having it. They brought their whole self to work. One of the proposals we made together was for them to take dedicated work time for deep research, in exchange for creating a summary their team could use. Their boss said yes. They became the person on the project who had read what no one else had time to read. Their depth, which they had always experienced as a liability, became their most visible professional asset. Their health did not improve because they worked less. It improved because they stopped spending their energy trying to be someone they were not. If any part of that story felt familiar, it is worth asking which part of your own ecosystem is currently paying the highest price for that effort. Did you take the Focus Quiz yet? Start with the 2-minute quiz here: https://tigrillagardenia.com/whats-your-focus-area/. In two minutes, you will know exactly which part of your ecosystem needs the most nourishment right now. You are already enough. You just deserve a system that knows it.