Our friend Taylor Denise Richardson is out here doing the most in the best way. She’s training to be both a doctor and an astronaut (casual), all while navigating ADHD and Dyscalculia. Her journey proves you don’t have to fit the “STEM stereotype” to belong.

We caught up with her to talk about finding confidence in spaces that don’t always recognize your strengths, flipping the way your brain works into your biggest flex, and why the future shines brighter when more people lead with what makes them different.

1. When did you first find out you had ADHD and Dyscalculia, and how did that change the way you saw yourself in school?

I was diagnosed with ADHD in elementary school and Dyscalculia junior year of high school.

For a long time, I thought struggling in math or zoning out in class meant I wasn’t “trying hard enough.” Once I got diagnosed, it reframed everything. I realized I wasn’t broken, I was just wired differently.

That shift allowed me to let go of shame and start advocating for myself as a student who learns abundantly different and happily divine; that’s actually what ADHD means to me now. I even created t-shirts and hoodies (see here!) with that phrase to empower others like me.

2. How did you figure out ways to work with your brain instead of against it and still keep chasing your goals in science and medicine?

Dyscalculia definitely made math feel like a wall most of the time. Numbers don’t always land the way words and patterns do for me. But I stopped thinking I had to “conquer” math and instead focused on finding strategies and tools that worked with my brain. I used color-coded notes, recorded tutoring sessions I could replay, and even created analogies to explain concepts in a way that made sense to me.

What kept me grounded was knowing that being a great scientist or doctor isn’t about doing mental math fast; it's about perseverance, problem-solving, and dedication.

My strength lies in seeing connections others might miss, and that’s just as valuable in STEM. I had to redefine what “smart” looks like for myself, and that helped me stay committed and true to myself. 

3. One ADHD myth you wish people would just retire already?

That ADHD just looks like a kid bouncing off the walls. Especially for girls, ADHD often shows up as being daydreamy, emotional, or disorganized, and it gets missed or misjudged. People thought I was just “too sensitive” or “lazy,” when in reality, my brain was operating at a different rhythm.

When I care deeply about something, like a creative project or a community initiative, I can lock in and bring it to life in ways that surprise even me. I’m also incredibly intuitive and creative, which helps me connect dots others don’t always see. That’s a gift I bring to science, medicine, and beyond.

4. When classes get overwhelming or your schedule’s packed, what tools or habits help you stay on track?

I live by visual cues and structure that flexes with me. Here are a few of my go-to tools:

✦ Timers: I use the Pomodoro method (25 minutes on, 5 off) with visual timers so I don’t get overwhelmed.

✦ Whiteboards and sticky notes: Having everything where I can see it helps me stay focused.

✦ Voice notes and audio tools: Sometimes reading is hard, so I record or listen to notes, and talk through big concepts out loud.

✦ Body doubling: Studying with a friend (even virtually) keeps me grounded and on task.

✦ Compassionate planning: I build in rest and flexibility. My routine includes time to reset because I need breaks to do my best work.

And most importantly, I remind myself: my brain isn’t a problem to fix, it's a power to learn with.

5.  You’ve been so open about your learning differences. How has that honesty helped you find your people, whether that’s in class, online, or in the lab?

At first, I was nervous to speak up, especially in academic settings. But once I started sharing my story, I realized how many people were quietly carrying similar experiences.

In class, I’ve advocated for accommodations like extended time, distraction-free testing spaces, and access to lecture recordings. These supports made a real difference not just in my grades, but in my confidence.

When I started talking about my journey on social media and through my Abundantly Different, Happily Divine ADHD apparel line, it created this beautiful ripple effect. Students started DMing me to say, “Thank you, I didn’t know anyone else felt this way.” That kind of connection is powerful.

In the lab, I’ve learned to ask for clarity when protocols feel overwhelming, and I often find creative ways to visualize procedures. I may approach steps differently, but that’s often where innovation starts. My neurodivergence helps me see what others might overlook, and that makes me a better collaborator and future clinician.

By showing up fully as myself, proudly, and differently—I’m not just surviving STEM. I’m helping reshape it so more of us belong.