Breaking Old Communication Patterns: How to Stay Adult in Difficult Conversations

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Many adults find that their most challenging conversations are not with colleagues, friends, or partners, but with their parents. Despite being fully independent adults, they may notice themselves becoming defensive, frustrated, withdrawn, or eager to gain approval. A simple disagreement can suddenly feel emotionally charged in ways that seem disproportionate to the situation. Likewise, parents may find themselves speaking to their adult son or daughter in ways that feel protective, critical, instructive, or controlling, even when their intention is to help. When this happens, both people can become caught in familiar patterns that belong more to the past than the present.

Why Old Roles Are So Powerful

The relationships we have with our parents are often the longest and most influential relationships of our lives. Over many years, families naturally develop roles and patterns of communication. One person may become the responsible one, another the peacemaker, another the rebel, and another the child who seeks approval. These roles often continue operating long after childhood has ended. As a result, two adults may find themselves interacting as though one is still the parent and the other is still the child. This can happen even when both people genuinely want a more mature and respectful relationship.

The Adapted Child and Critical Parent

Transactional Analysis (TA) describes how people can shift between different ego states during communication. When conversations become emotionally charged, many adults find themselves moving into what is sometimes called the Adapted Child position. They may feel criticised, judged, controlled, or compelled to defend themselves. At the same time, the other person may move into a Critical Parent position, offering correction, instruction, criticism, or unsolicited advice. Neither person may consciously choose these roles. They often emerge automatically because they are familiar. The difficulty is that once these positions become activated, genuine communication becomes much harder. The conversation is no longer occurring between two adults in the present moment. Instead, it is being shaped by patterns that were established years earlier.

When We Focus on Changing the Other Person

When relationships become stuck, it is natural to focus on what the other person is doing wrong. We may spend a great deal of energy wishing they would listen differently, speak differently, or finally understand our point of view. While these wishes are understandable, they often leave us feeling powerless because they depend upon someone else’s behaviour changing first.

A more helpful question can be: How do I want to communicate?

This shifts attention away from controlling the other person’s response and towards taking responsibility for our own. We set the tone as an adult. We show up as an adult. Even when we become triggered, we rely on our adult-self rather than reverting to old dynamics; this may mean cutting a visit or conversation short so as to avert descending into unhelpful patterns.

Creating a New Communication Framework

Before entering a difficult conversation, it can be useful to think about how you would ideally like to show up.

You might ask yourself:

  • How do I want to speak?
  • What tone would I like to maintain?
  • What boundaries do I want to hold?
  • What would communicating as an adult look like in this situation?
  • How do I want to respond if I begin feeling triggered?

Having clarity about these questions creates an internal framework that can help guide the interaction. Rather than reacting automatically, there is greater opportunity to respond intentionally.

Staying Adult When Old Feelings Arise

One of the greatest challenges is maintaining an adult perspective when old emotions become activated. A comment from a parent can suddenly evoke feelings of being misunderstood, criticised, or not good enough. Equally, a parent may feel rejected, dismissed, or unappreciated by their adult child. When this happens, it can be helpful to pause and remember:

“I am not a child in this moment.”

“This feeling may be familiar, but I am responding as an adult.”

“I can choose how I communicate, even if I cannot control how the other person responds.”

Remaining grounded does not mean suppressing emotions. Rather, it means allowing feelings to be present without allowing them to dictate the conversation.

The Goal Is Not Perfection

Moving away from long-established family patterns rarely happens in a single conversation. There will be times when old roles reappear. There may be moments when both people fall back into familiar ways of relating. There may be pressure applied from other family members to retreat into the old, familiar role or dynamic.

This is part of the process. The goal is not perfect communication. The goal is becoming more aware of what is happening and making small, consistent choices that support a different way of relating. Even if there is a feeling of fear, hurt or anger, it does not need to play out in familiar patterns. Sometimes stepping back and giving the feeling a safe space to emote can be a powerful practice is processing long-held resentments or guilt. Over time, choices made by the adult-self begin to reshape the relationship. The controlling parent and acquiescent child; the compliant parent and manipulative child and other variants of the adult/child dynamic find a new way to communicate. When one or both persons make a conscious choice to strengthen boundaries and communicate clearly, the relationship benefits.

How Therapy Can Help

Many people understand these patterns intellectually but struggle to change them in practice. Therapy can provide a space to explore the emotional triggers that keep old roles in place and to understand why certain conversations feel so difficult. It can also help people develop greater awareness of their reactions, strengthen emotional regulation, and practise new ways of communicating that feel more authentic and effective. As clients become clearer about how they want to communicate, they often discover a greater sense of confidence and choice. Rather than being pulled into familiar parent-child dynamics, they begin responding from a more grounded adult position.

A Compassionate Perspective

Most difficult communication patterns begin as attempts to maintain connection, safety, or belonging within a family. The roles we learned in childhood often served an important purpose at the time. However, relationships continue to evolve, and the ways we communicate may need to evolve with them. Learning to communicate as an adult is not about winning arguments or changing other people. It is about developing the ability to remain connected to ourselves while staying engaged with others. From this place, conversations become less about repeating the past and more about creating something new in the present.

Collette O’Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

To book a free introduction session click here.

Anxious Attachment: When Relationships Feel Less Safe Than Everything Else

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Many people who experience anxious attachment are surprised by how differently they function in relationships compared to other areas of life. They may feel confident with friends, capable at work, and secure within their family, yet find themselves overwhelmed by doubt, worry, or fear when it comes to a romantic partner.

What Is Anxious Attachment?

Anxious attachment describes a pattern in which a person becomes highly sensitive to signs of disconnection, rejection, or emotional distance within close relationships. This sensitivity is not a conscious choice. It is often rooted in earlier experiences where connection felt uncertain, inconsistent, or difficult to rely upon. As adults, these individuals often desire closeness deeply. Relationships matter enormously to them. However, because relationships feel so important, they can also become a source of anxiety. Small changes in communication, tone, availability, or affection may be noticed quickly and interpreted as signs that something is wrong.

One of the most confusing aspects of anxious attachment is that it frequently remains invisible outside intimate relationships. A person may have strong friendships, healthy family connections, and successful professional relationships. They may not generally see themselves as anxious at all. The reason is that romantic relationships often activate our deepest attachment needs. A friend taking a few hours to reply may not feel significant. A partner taking the same amount of time can trigger worry, uncertainty, or a sense of emotional threat. This does not mean the person is irrational. Rather, the relationship has become linked to a part of the nervous system that is highly attuned to connection and loss. In effect, a threat-monitoring system becomes attached to the relationship itself.

How Anxious Attachment Feels From the Inside

For the person experiencing it, anxious attachment can be exhausting. There may be a constant scanning for signs that everything is okay. A delayed message, a change in routine, or a shift in mood can quickly become the focus of attention.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“Are they pulling away?”

“Do they still feel the same?”

Often there is an awareness that these worries may be disproportionate, yet knowing this does not necessarily stop them. The nervous system can react long before logic has a chance to intervene. Many people describe feeling caught between a desire to relax and a powerful urge to seek reassurance.

Healing anxious attachment is not about becoming less caring or less emotionally connected. Rather, it involves learning to recognise when the nervous system has moved into threat-monitoring mode.

Prediction or Evidence Based Response

Many people find it helpful to ask:

Am I basing my response on prediction or evidence?

  • If it’s prediction, does it feel familiar?
  • Is the feeling connected to past experience rather than the current relationship?
  • If evidence, what am I responding to right now?
  • Am I reacting to what is happening in the present, or to a fear of what might happen?

Therapeutic work often involves strengthening the ability to self-soothe, tolerate uncertainty, and remain connected to one’s own experience without immediately seeking reassurance from another person.

For Partners

Living alongside someone with anxious attachment can be both rewarding and challenging. Many partners find themselves caught in a difficult position. They want to provide reassurance, yet they may notice that reassurance only brings temporary relief before the same fears return. They may begin to wonder whether they are saying the wrong thing, doing too little, or somehow failing to meet their partner’s needs. Over time, this can create feelings of frustration, helplessness, or even resentment.

Some partners describe feeling as though they are being continually assessed for signs of withdrawal, disinterest, or rejection. Ordinary behaviours, such as needing time alone, being busy with work, or feeling tired, can sometimes become interpreted as signs that something is wrong within the relationship. This can leave partners feeling misunderstood. They may know they are committed to the relationship, yet feel unable to convince their loved one of this in a lasting way. As a result, some partners begin to withdraw emotionally, not because they care less, but because they feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of constantly managing another person’s anxiety. This is often one of the most painful aspects of anxious attachment. The very behaviours that are intended to create closeness can sometimes create distance.

For partners, it can be helpful to remember that reassurance alone is rarely enough to heal anxious attachment. While consistency, warmth, and emotional availability are important, lasting change usually involves the anxious partner developing greater trust in their own ability to tolerate uncertainty and regulate difficult emotions. Healthy relationships require both compassion and boundaries.

When both people can recognise the pattern as something they are facing together, rather than something that belongs solely to one person, it often becomes easier to move out of blame and towards greater understanding and connection.

How Individual Counselling Can Help

Many people who experience anxious attachment initially come to therapy believing that the problem lies in their relationship. While relationship difficulties may certainly be present, therapy often reveals that the deeper struggle is not simply about the partner, but about the fear, uncertainty, and threat responses that become activated within close relationships. Often, anxious attachment is linked to earlier relational experiences where emotional security felt inconsistent or uncertain. Therapy can help people understand how these experiences may continue to influence present-day relationships, even when circumstances are very different.

As awareness grows, clients often begin to recognise the difference between what is happening in the present moment and what their nervous system has learned to anticipate from the past. Counselling can also help strengthen emotional regulation, develop greater self-trust, and reduce the reliance on reassurance from others as the primary source of security. Rather than constantly scanning a relationship for signs of danger, individuals can gradually learn to find a greater sense of stability within themselves. This does not mean becoming less connected or less caring. Instead, it means developing the ability to remain emotionally present within a relationship without being overwhelmed by fear.

The goal is not to remove the need for connection. It is to develop a stronger sense of safety within oneself, so that relationships become a source of closeness rather than a source of constant vigilance. With awareness, patience, and support, it becomes possible to step out of threat-monitoring mode and into a more secure way of relating, where connection can be enjoyed rather than continually feared.

Final Note

Many of the challenges we experience in relationships begin with the relationship we have with ourselves. Learning to understand our inner world can often be the first step towards creating healthier and more secure connections with others.

Collette O’Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

To book a free introduction session click here.

Why We Struggle to Trust Our Feelings in Relationships

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In relationships, many people become highly attuned to the emotional responses of others. They learn to monitor tone, mood, facial expressions, or possible reactions in order to maintain connection, avoid conflict, or keep emotional balance. Over time, this can create a subtle but important shift away from their own internal experience. When asked how they feel, some people instinctively answer with what their partner thinks, what their partner needs, or how their partner might react. Their attention moves outward before they have fully recognised their own response. Often, this happens so automatically that the person barely notices they are doing it.

Losing Contact with Our Own Inner Voice

For some people, particularly those who have experienced criticism, emotional unpredictability, or conflict within relationships, it can begin to feel safer to monitor the emotional environment than to remain connected to their own feelings. Rather than asking, “What am I experiencing right now?” the mind shifts towards:
“How will this affect the other person?”
“Will my feelings be accepted?”
“Do I need to defend myself?”

Over time, this can weaken trust in one’s own internal world. A person may become uncertain about whether their emotions are valid, whether their needs are reasonable, or whether they are allowed to experience something differently from their partner.

Emotional Reticence and Emotional Over Functioning

In some relationships, these patterns can become organised between two people in ways that feel familiar but exhausting. One person may become emotionally reticent, finding it difficult to identify, express, or stay connected to their feelings. Emotional experience may feel vague, distant, or uncomfortable to engage with directly. The other person may begin compensating by carrying more of the emotional awareness within the relationship. They may try to interpret feelings, maintain communication, anticipate problems, or encourage emotional openness. Although this dynamic can develop in any relationship, many couples describe having unconsciously fallen into more traditional emotional roles, where one partner becomes the emotional processor while the other withdraws from emotional engagement. Over time, this can create frustration for both people. The emotionally expressive partner may begin to feel alone, burdened, or responsible for the emotional life of the relationship. They may long for reciprocity, openness, or emotional presence. Meanwhile, the more emotionally withdrawn partner may feel criticised, overwhelmed, inadequate, or pressured to respond in ways they do not fully understand within themselves. Neither person is necessarily “wrong.” Often, both are responding to emotional patterns that developed long before the relationship itself.

When Emotional Monitoring Replaces Emotional Awareness

One difficulty with constantly monitoring another person’s emotional state is that it leaves very little room to notice our own. Instead of experiencing emotions directly, a person may begin evaluating them through the imagined response of someone else. This can create an exhausting form of inner self-surveillance where thoughts and feelings are filtered, softened, defended, or edited before they are even fully understood. At times, people can become so focused on managing the emotional atmosphere around them that they lose connection with what they genuinely think or feel.

A Small Reflective Practice

In therapy, it can sometimes help to gently pause and notice where attention is going in moments of emotional tension. A simple reflective practice might involve asking:

Am I in my own mind right now, or second guessing what my partner thinks?

Do I have my own response, or am I preparing to defend myself?

Is it possible for me to own my feelings, while allowing the other person to have their own reaction?

This is not about becoming detached or uncaring. It is not about ignoring the emotional reality of another person. Rather, it is about creating enough internal space to recognise that our own thoughts, feelings, and reactions also deserve attention.

Relearning Emotional Ownership

For some people, reconnecting with their inner experience can feel unfamiliar at first. They may notice uncertainty when asked what they feel. They may instinctively seek reassurance, approval, or confirmation before trusting their own perspective. Learning to validate our inner experience often begins very gradually. It can involve noticing emotions without immediately explaining them away, allowing feelings to exist without rushing to justify them, and recognising that disagreement does not automatically invalidate personal experience. Over time, this can help strengthen a more stable and grounded sense of self within relationships. Leaning into an internal Locus of Evaluation helps foster stability and balance individually and as a couple.

A More Balanced Emotional Connection

Healthy emotional connection does not require one person to carry the emotional responsibility for both people. Nor does it require emotional withdrawal in order to maintain independence or safety. A more balanced relationship allows room for both people to remain connected to themselves while also staying emotionally available to one another. This creates space for honesty, difference, vulnerability, and mutual understanding without either person needing to abandon their own internal experience.

A Compassionate Perspective

Many people who struggle to trust their feelings learned, at some point, that it felt safer to monitor others than to remain fully connected to themselves. These patterns are often thoughtful adaptations to earlier emotional environments. With awareness and support, it becomes possible to gradually rebuild trust in one’s own inner world. And from this place, relationships can begin to feel less like a process of emotional management, and more like a shared experience between two people who are both allowed to exist fully within themselves.

Collette O’Mahony (Dip.Psy.C) May 2026

Collette O’Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

To book a free introduction session click here.

Digital Detox: Reconnecting With Our Inner Experience

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Many people notice how naturally their attention is drawn towards their phone. Moments of quiet are quickly filled with scrolling, checking, or searching, often without much conscious thought. For some, this has become such a familiar part of daily life that it can feel difficult to step away from it, even for short periods of time. This raises an important question: what makes it so hard to unplug?

The Pull of Constant Stimulation

Digital spaces are designed to capture and hold attention. They offer a continuous stream of information, images, and interaction, often changing faster than the mind has time to fully process. Over time, this level of stimulation can begin to shape how we relate to our own thoughts. Moments that might once have been spent reflecting, noticing feelings, or simply being present can become filled with external input. The mind becomes used to receiving rather than generating. In this way, constant scrolling can begin to replace quieter forms of thinking.

Avoiding the Inner World

For many people, stepping away from digital distraction is not just a practical challenge, but an emotional one. When external stimulation is reduced, internal experience becomes more noticeable. Thoughts may feel less organised, emotions may feel more present, and certain questions about life or relationships may begin to surface. At times, this can feel uncomfortable. It can be easier to reach for something that provides quick distraction than to sit with uncertainty, restlessness, or difficult feelings. In this sense, digital engagement can sometimes act as a way of managing emotional experience, allowing attention to move outward rather than inward.

The Appeal of “Outsourcing” Thought

A client once reflected that if their mind could exist as a phone app, they would choose to use it. They described the appeal of having thoughts that felt clearer, more structured, and easier to access. This idea captures something many people can relate to. Digital tools often provide immediate answers, organised information, and a sense of clarity that can feel reassuring. In contrast, our own thinking can feel slower, more complex, and at times uncertain. It is understandable that people might begin to rely more on external sources, especially when internal reflection feels effortful or uncomfortable. However, this shift can also create distance from our own inner process.

Experiencing Life First-Hand

This pattern can sometimes become visible in everyday moments. For example, when visiting a scenic place or meaningful location, it is common to see people engaging with it through their phones, taking photos or videos rather than pausing to take in the experience directly. The moment becomes something to capture, rather than something to fully feel. While there is nothing inherently wrong with recording experiences, it can gradually reduce our capacity to stay present with them. Over time, this may contribute to a sense of disconnection, even in moments that are meaningful or significant.

Returning to Presence

A digital detox does not have to mean removing technology completely. Instead, it can involve creating small, intentional spaces each day where external input is reduced. This might be as simple as putting the phone aside for a period of time, going for a walk without headphones, or sitting quietly without immediately reaching for distraction. At first, this can feel unfamiliar. Without constant stimulation, the mind may feel restless or unsettled. Thoughts may seem less clear, and emotions may become more noticeable. With time, however, these moments can begin to feel different. There can be more space for reflection, a greater awareness of internal experience, and a renewed connection to the world as it is happening.

A Gentle Rebalancing

The aim is not to reject technology, but to find a more balanced relationship with it. Digital spaces can offer connection, information, and convenience. At the same time, our inner world requires space, attention, and time. Creating distance from constant input allows us to reconnect with our own thinking, our emotions, and our direct experience of life.

A Compassionate Perspective

The pull towards digital distraction is not a failure of discipline. It reflects both how these systems are designed, and the very human tendency to move away from discomfort. In many ways, it is understandable that people turn towards what feels easier, clearer, or more immediately rewarding. A digital detox is not about removing something essential, but about making space for something that may have been gradually lost. With small, consistent shifts, it becomes possible to reconnect with a quieter, more grounded way of experiencing both ourselves and the world around us.

Collette O’Mahony

Collette O’Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

For a free 15 minute free introduction book here.

Navigating Self-Discovery: Understanding Your Inner Identity

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There’s a particular kind of question that doesn’t arrive lightly. It tends to surface slowly, often after years of getting on with things, doing what’s expected, being who you’ve always been. And then, one day, it lands with a weight that’s hard to ignore: Who am I, really?

For many people, this question shows up in their late 20s or 30s, sometimes later. It might be stirred by a life change, or it might seem to come out of nowhere. On the surface, life can look fine; work, relationships, responsibilities all in place. And yet underneath, something feels off. Not dramatically wrong, just quietly out of place. People often describe it as a sense of disconnection. As if they’ve been living a life that looks right, but doesn’t quite feel like theirs. Alongside that can come a mix of emotions that are harder to make sense of. Low mood, restlessness, anxiety, or a kind of flatness where things that used to matter no longer do. For some, it can feel more intense than that, like everything they’ve built their life on is starting to crack. It can feel frightening. It can feel like something is going wrong. But very often, something else is happening.

When the Self You Built Stops Fitting

In developmental terms, our teenage years are when we begin to form a sense of who we are. Not just what we do, but what we value, what we feel drawn to, what seems to fit. In an ideal world, development in teenage years unfolds with enough space to explore, question, and push against expectations. But many people don’t get that kind of freedom.

If you grew up in an environment where approval mattered, where certain emotions weren’t welcomed, or where there were strong expectations about who you should be, you likely adapted. You learned, often without realising it, how to be acceptable, how to stay connected, how to avoid conflict or disapproval. You might have become someone who copes well, achieves, keeps the peace, doesn’t make things difficult. These are not small things. They take awareness, sensitivity, and effort. Over time, though, those ways of being can become less like choices and more like identity. Not because they fully reflect who you are, but because they were what worked.

Until they don’t.

The Quiet Shift That Changes Everything

At some point, often without warning, the fit begins to loosen. What once felt normal starts to feel effortful. What once made sense starts to feel restrictive. You might notice that you’re saying yes when something in you wants to say no, or that you’re moving through your days without a real sense of connection to what you’re doing.

It’s not always dramatic. In fact, it’s often quite subtle at first. A kind of internal friction. A sense that you’re slightly out of step with your own life until gradually, it becomes harder to ignore.

This is often the point where people begin to worry about themselves. They wonder if they’re becoming ungrateful, or unstable, or if something is wrong with them. Especially if their mood dips, or their motivation drops, or they feel more emotionally reactive than they used to. But this shift doesn’t usually come out of nowhere. It tends to emerge when the version of you that was shaped around external expectations no longer fits the person you are becoming.

You Didn’t Get It Wrong

It’s important to say this clearly: the version of you that got you here is not a mistake. It was, in many ways, an intelligent and necessary response to your environment. It helped you navigate relationships, maintain connection, and find your place in the world as it was presented to you. But adapting to an environment and knowing yourself deeply are not always the same thing. And there often comes a point where something in you begins to ask for more alignment. Not more achievement or approval, but more honesty. More congruence between how you live and what you actually feel, want, and value. That’s not failure. That’s development continuing.

Why It Can Feel Unsettling

When this process begins, it can feel less like growth and more like things are coming undone. Part of that is because the roles you’ve relied on for years start to feel less solid. The ways you’ve understood yourself, capable, easy-going, reliable, accommodating, may still be true, but they no longer feel complete. At the same time, what comes next isn’t immediately clear. There can be a sense of standing in between versions of yourself, without a clear sense of who you are becoming.

That in-between space can feel uncomfortable, even frightening. It can bring up questions about your relationships, your work, your direction in life. It can also bring up grief, for the time spent being who you needed to be, and for the recognition or ease that may not have come with it. For some people, the intensity of this experience leads to thoughts about wanting to escape entirely. Not necessarily because they want their life to end, but because the way they have been living no longer feels possible. Seen this way, those thoughts are less about wanting to disappear, and more about wanting something to change at a very deep level.

Moving Toward Something More Your Own

If there is a direction to this process, it’s not about reinventing yourself from scratch. It’s more about gradually noticing what feels true and what doesn’t. That might begin with small, almost quiet recognitions. Realising that something you’ve always gone along with doesn’t actually sit right with you. Noticing that you feel more like yourself in some environments than others. Becoming aware of how often you override your own preferences. These are not dramatic shifts, but they matter. They are signs that your attention is turning inward in a new way.

If you’ve spent years orienting yourself around what’s expected or needed by others, this can feel unfamiliar at first. There may be uncertainty, or even guilt, in paying closer attention to your own experience. But over time, this is where a more stable sense of self begins to form. Not one based purely on roles or expectations, but one that includes your own voice.

You’re Not Losing Yourself

It can feel like that when things start to shift. As if the ground beneath you is less certain than it used to be. But more often, what’s happening is that you are outgrowing a version of yourself that no longer fits the life you’re in now. The discomfort isn’t a sign that you’re broken or that something has gone wrong. It’s a sign that something in you is no longer willing to stay confined to what once worked. That can take time to understand. And it can take time to trust.

But if you find yourself asking “Who am I, really?”, it may help to consider that this question isn’t the beginning of a crisis. It may be the beginning of a more honest relationship with yourself. And while that process can feel uncertain, it’s also where something steadier, and more your own, has the chance to emerge.

Collette O’Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

To book a 15 minute free introduction email me at info@colletteomahony.com