Building Pathways for Healing and Hope
Dr. Munidasa Winslow is a senior consultant psychiatrist, and founder of Promises Healthcare—a multidisciplinary mental health practice with a team of over 40 psychiatrists, psychologists, therapists, and executive coaches. Known for his work in addictions, psychiatry, and executive coaching, he has also founded and supported several charities, including We Care Community Services, a children’s home in Nepal, PSALT Care, and the Promised Land sober house, all dedicated to recovery, resilience, and community building.
Quotes
“If you see a need and leave it alone, you’ll end up with soul pain. You have to do something about it.”
“Some of the most miserable people I’ve seen are those with ADHD boxed into mundane jobs. No wonder they’re depressed. When we’re in the wrong environment, we wither. Give us space to innovate, and we thrive.”
“You can spend your whole life fighting your wiring, or you can learn to drive it. I’ve chosen to drive.”
Recognising ADHD in Myself
I first suspected I might have ADHD when my son was in Primary Four. His teacher kept calling my wife to say he was daydreaming and staring out the window yet still managing to pass his tests. Eventually, she told me to come in instead. As the teacher described him, I thought, that sounds exactly like me.
It took me back to my own school days — standing outside the classroom because I had disrupted the lesson, or sitting in the principal’s office more times than I could count. I was made “sportsman of the year” in Primary Five only because one teacher decided I should run six laps around the school field before class to burn off energy. By Primary Six, I was somehow a prefect, perhaps just before they were about to kick me out.
Even with a psychiatrist for a father, ADHD wasn’t on my radar back then. I thought I was just hyperactive.
School, Medical Training, and Survival
In pre-university, I was the classic high-functioner in certain ways. I threw myself into sports, debate, and leadership roles – cross-country runner, head prefect, editor of the school magazine – anything that kept me active and stimulated. Studying was another matter entirely. My strength was cramming. I’d open a textbook two months before exams and think, why have I never read this before?
Medical school was tougher. The long days, constant tests, and continuous assessments didn’t suit my sprint-style learning. I even failed my first paper after playing badminton the night before a biochemistry exam instead of revising formulas. I survived by teaming up with friends, sharing notes, and creating index cards to summarise entire topics for last-minute review. I could make it work, but it was exhausting to push myself into a mould that didn’t fit.
The Turning Point: Autonomy at Work
After graduation, my biggest fear was making a mistake that could harm a patient. Public service gave me multiple layers of checks, which felt safe. Promotions were slow, but I was comfortable.
Then I applied for a grant to run an addiction service. And got it. Suddenly, I had the freedom to design the service my way. We held meetings under a tree, drank coconut water, and experimented with unconventional ideas. Within a short time, I was getting promoted every six months to a year.
It confirmed what I now tell many patients: “Some of the most miserable people I’ve seen are those with ADHD boxed into mundane jobs. No wonder they’re depressed.” When we’re in the wrong environment, we wither. Give us space to innovate, and we thrive.
Learning to Drive My Wiring
Over the years, I’ve learned how to manage my ADHD rather than fight it. Exercise is a big one. Even a short walk between patient sessions resets my focus. I break my day into varied tasks, so my attention stays fresh. I delegate the things that drain me, like accounts, to people who can do them better and faster.
And perhaps most importantly, I’ve accepted that this is how I’m wired. You can spend your whole life fighting your wiring, or you can learn to drive it.” I’ve chosen to drive.
Much of my career has been about spotting gaps in care and doing something about them. If you see a need and leave it alone, you’ll end up with soul pain. You have to do something about it.
Social Impact
My first charity, We Care Community Services, was born when I realised that recovering addicts had nowhere to go after detox or hospital discharge. They needed a safe space to belong. We built a community centre where they could find connection, purpose, and support. Many of our members still meet there years later.
Then came a call from a colleague about children in a remote Nepalese village who couldn’t attend school. The problem wasn’t just distance – it was that there was no one to care for them during the day. We worked with local leaders to create a children’s home.
The 2015 earthquake in Nepal delayed construction, but we eventually opened just before COVID, housing over 20 children. Now, we focus on helping them build careers so they can give back to their community.
Next was PSALT Care — a space for people with depression, anxiety, or bipolar disorder to come together. It’s activity-based, filled with problem-solving and creativity, which might explain why so many with ADHD enjoy it. We do everything from art to gardening, all in a setting that feels alive and welcoming.
In Pokhara, Nepal, a village elder offered me land to use for good. That gift became the Promised Land Sober House, a recovery home on a mountainside. People live there for six months to a year, regaining stability before re-entering the world.
One of my favourite phrases is that I have “six ideas before breakfast.” The challenge is choosing which one to act on. ADHD means I’m constantly generating possibilities — the trick is to focus long enough to make them real. Most of the charities I’ve started now run independently. That’s the goal: to create something that doesn’t depend on me to keep going.
Advice to My Younger Self
If I could speak to my younger self, I’d say: You’re okay. You’re not broken. Learn to amplify your strengths, minimise your weaknesses, and don’t let imposter syndrome get in the way. Build systems that support you and find people who complement your skills.
Never stop looking for those unmet needs, the ones that cause “soul pain” if you ignore them. That’s where your most meaningful work will come from.
Where I Am Now
I call this phase of my life “semi-retirement,” though I doubt I’ll ever fully retire. I want more time for family, friends, and travel, but I’ll keep doing the work I love. Right now, that means building a mental health and addiction rehab centre in Singapore — something I’ve said we’ve needed for years, because too many patients have had to go overseas. Construction and staff recruitment are underway, with plans to open early next year.
Between my clinical work, the charities, and my family, my life is full. And that’s exactly how I like it.
Support the ADHD Community
If you’d like to read more stories like these, consider donating $150 or more to receive a copy of our book, Differently Wired Minds as a thank-you. Limited quantities available.
Your donation helps Unlocking ADHD provide counselling, psychoeducation, and other vital support services to those affected by ADHD.
Special thanks to our sponsors whose generous support made this book possible:
MINDSET, Singapore Pools, Chua Foundation, Hyphens Pharma
Leave a Reply