"We have money like garbage" - my mother's phrase for the surprising truth that we always found money for the things that truly mattered. I grew up in that contradiction, and I've been living it ever since. This post is the most honest thing I've written about money, where the beliefs come from, why they're so hard to shift, and what I'm beginning to understand about changing them. The next Lighthouse Talk goes deeper. Tuesday 9th June, online, €10.
This morning I was listening to a podcast about a woman who left Hollywood, moved to Fiji, and ended up rethinking how investment works from the ground up. Hearing her made me hopeful - in a specific way. That's what a voice from outside your world can do. It changes the altitude from which you see your own situation. That's the seed of the Lighthouse Talks - and the first one is this Tuesday, 28 April, free and online.
I reached out to someone last week, in the middle of everything that’s been happening in Ireland. I asked: “Can I support you? What do you need?” They were surprised. And grateful.
We’re all getting very good at being grand. At wearing the mask for work, for the children, for the sake of keeping things together. But at night, it slides off — and there’s nobody there to hold us.
This post is for anyone who’s lying awake, not quite knowing how to be. The real face has been there all along.
What happens when the version of you that once felt confident no longer exists?
This piece explores how life transitions can shake our sense of self — and how, especially when building meaningful work, a lack of confidence may not be a weakness, but a sign that you’re stepping off the beaten track and into something new.
When I heard that our WhatsApp group was “too busy,” my first reaction was panic. Had I ruined something that mattered?
Instead of reacting, I used the Double Diamond design thinking process to pause, reflect, and redesign my communication. What I discovered changed the way I make decisions in my business — especially when feedback feels uncomfortable.
This is a story about clarity, courage, and refusing to make decisions from stress.
From a young age, I trusted an inner compass—a felt sense of integrity and direction. Following it gave my life meaning, but it also led me through loneliness, grief, and a painful reckoning with the belief that meaning guarantees safety.
This is a reflection on will, integrity, and what changes when we stop outsourcing our safety and learn to sail with the forces within us.
I grew up believing that rest had to be earned. For me, there was a magic number: 38.4 — sick enough to be allowed to stop, but not too sick to enjoy being cared for. Years later, I can see this pattern clearly in myself and in my coaching work:
so many of us learned to rest only when our bodies, minds, or lives force us to.
What if we operated in this world within our capacity? What if we didn’t have to navigate the constant experience of lack?
With the new year starting, I felt the pull to design and clarify 2026. But I didn’t feel ready. 2025 went so fast, and I was tired. The holidays did not charge me up. I came into January with a deep need to rest, to stop.
I didn’t feel clear, and the idea of deciding on yearly goals and setting up projects made me want to crawl under the duvet.
Chaos has been my lifelong companion. Growing up undiagnosed neurodivergent, I learned to survive by organising the mess — inside and out. But what happens when sorting is no longer the answer?
In this reflective piece, I explore chaos, creativity, coaching, and what it means to end a year without rushing to fix or define what comes next.
