Last night, at about 9pm, the internet went down across a large area where I live.

About twenty minutes later, my phone decided to join in.

Not in a dramatic way. No sparks. No warning. It simply packed up, gave up the ghost and died. Permanently, as it turned out.

Within half an hour I found myself in a situation that would have been entirely normal in 1985 and mildly alarming in 2026.

I had no internet.

No phone.

No podcasts.

No news.

No social media.

No messages.

No emails.

Struggling with overthinking, anxiety or mental overload? Discover practical tools to quiet your mind, stop spiralling thoughts and find more calm, clarity and confidence in daily life.

There is a particular kind of strength that many people quietly pride themselves on.

The ability to get on with things.
To figure it out.
To not need anyone.

On the surface, it looks like competence. Independence. Capability. And often, it is all of those things. Lord knows I always did everything on my own. Easier right? Not necessarily.

Shame is an odd thing. It doesn’t usually introduce itself directly, by sitting you down and saying, “I’m shame, and I’m in charge”

Instead, it moves quietly - seeping into your thoughts, your reactions and your relationships and shaping things from the background while pretending to be something else completely.

Generation X are capable, thoughtful, often deeply self-aware people. They’ve built lives, careers, families. They cope. They manage. They get on with things.

And yet, underneath that, there is often something quieter.

A sense of not quite being heard.
A discomfort with needing too much.
A habit of handling things alone and perhaps not knowing how to handle praise.

It’s not always obvious. In fact, it’s often very well hidden. But once you start to see it, it’s hard to unsee.

This has led me to reflect more deeply on where this pattern might come from. Not in a way that blames, but in a way that understands.

Because when we understand the context, we can begin to soften the impact and help clients with perspective.

Why capable adults suddenly cannot cope

Burnout in neurodivergent adults rarely begins with collapse.

It begins with competence.

Many of the adults I work with have ADHD, autistic traits, or both. Some are formally diagnosed. Some have only recently begun to wonder. Nearly all of them are bright, capable and deeply conscientious.

They have learned to compensate.

They have learned to mask.

They have learned to push through.

Biodynamic Therapy began as a sketch in my notebook. It was an attempt to make sense of how people grow, heal and reconnect to themselves. As a walk and talk therapist, I wanted a model that breathed and one that honoured the changing seasons, rather than rushing toward outcomes. Like nature, it invites courage, strength, change and time. It teaches that every step is a step, and every tree was once a seed…..

I don’t know about you, but I can’t keep up with the breaking news alerts at the moment. Every time I think I’ve absorbed one story, another arrives. A mass shooting, another report from a war zone, images of starvation or political decisions that feel unsettling or outright unfair. Legal battles that quietly expose how uneven the ground really is, such as the recent multi-billion dollar lawsuit involving Trump and the BBC and questions about who holds power and who carries the cost.

In an age where individualism often takes precedence, the concept of community can feel like a fading concept. Yet, for those of us in the field of counselling and psychotherapy, the importance of community cannot be overstated, as I’m sure you’ll agree. Community is not just a physical space or a group of people; it is a source of connection, belonging, and support that profoundly influences mental well-being. So why is strengthening community ties essential in promoting mental health?

Ensuring you get a good night’s sleep isn’t just about preparing you for the day ahead; it’s crucial in looking after yourself, physically and mentally. Our body clock is regulated by routine, as well as light and darkness. This is why when it's out of sync, we can feel alert later at night or sleepy at unusual times during the day. However, there are ways to gently reset it when we need to. 

Sleep allows your body and brain to rest, repair, and rejuvenate. When we get enough sleep, we are more likely to get sick less often, are at lower risk of serious health problems, and are able to think more clearly. Sleep helps to reduce our feelings of stress, improve mood, and support our health and well-being.

ADHD and addiction have a more complicated relationship than many realise. For some, the restless energy and distractibility that come with ADHD can be a constant challenge. For others, it is the unrecognised drive to find focus or quiet that leads them toward risky shortcuts. Understanding this link could change how we approach both diagnosis and recovery.

I’ve been growing this idea for quite some time now. That we aren’t fixed pointed, stuck “selves” so much as living, shifting landscapes - and the more I’ve listened, to myself, to clients and to the patterns that keep popping up, the more I’ve realised this isn’t just a nice image to have in your head. It’s a practical way of making sense of why we grow the way we do, why we get stuck, and how we can start to move again.

“Just be yourself” is one of those phrases people offer with good intentions. It sounds comforting, simple, even wise. But when you pause and really consider it, it often creates more confusion than clarity. In some contexts, it can even be shaming or dismissive.

Here’s why it often doesn’t help - and what might work better.

There was a time when I felt wrung out like an old cloth, drained after years of pouring myself into a job that seemed to demand everything and give so little back. Travelling all over Europe, sitting in meetings, it was tough. I’d ignored the signals from my body for months: the heavy shoulders, the clenching jaw, the quiet sighs that escaped when I thought no one was listening. Eventually, exhaustion wrapped itself around me like a fog. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t have the words.

Most therapy begins with conversation. You show up, take a breath and start to explain what’s going on. You reflect on how you feel, what’s been happening and how it all fits together. Sometimes, that alone helps. It clears the fog. Things begin to shift.

But not always.

I see them often.

Men who come quietly, cautiously, as though stepping into unfamiliar ground. Men who carry stories like boulders – handed down through generations, never quite theirs, but there all the same. These are not men in crisis. They are men in transition. Men attempting to break with the norm, to live differently than their fathers, their grandfathers, the silent lines and male blueprints before them.