Episodes
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You can hear the moment the penny drops for Dave Dillon: he’s sitting in a doctor’s office for his son’s ADHD assessment, the symptoms are listed one by one, and suddenly his whole past makes sense. Dave grew up in Kilamanagh, Dublin 24, and spent years believing his racing mind, big emotions and constant restlessness were just “the way he was”. By 12, drugs became the quickest way to quiet his head, and what started as hash escalated into weekend-long sessions, debt, shame and a life built around chasing the next escape.
We talk openly about the darker turns too: crack cocaine, paranoia, and drug-induced psychosis where every sound becomes evidence and every doubt becomes a conspiracy. Dave describes what it’s like to be trapped in that state, how it damages families, and how suicidal thinking can be fuelled by drink and drugs even when the person isn’t truly ready to die. It’s a tough listen at times, but it’s grounded, human, and full of hard-won clarity.
Recovery, for Dave, doesn’t begin with a simple decision. It begins with support, routine, TRP, meetings, peer groups, and the 12-step programme, plus the humility to admit that “clean time” isn’t the same as recovery. We also get into why he’s now writing Nanny Kayes, a screen project built from lived experience to raise awareness about addiction and psychosis, and why fast gas and youth drug trends need urgent action in Ireland.
If this conversation lands with you, please subscribe, share it with someone who needs it, and leave a review so more people can find it. What part of Dave’s story do you wish more people understood?
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Three women, one bus ride, and a conversation that swings from pure Dublin craic to the kind of honesty that stops you in your tracks. We sit down with lollipop ladies who spend their mornings and afternoons doing the most under-rated safety job in the city: stepping into live traffic so children can cross the road. They tell us what it’s really like on the kerb, from drivers who try to push through the sign, to the constant weather battle, to the small rules they live by when someone is roaring at them.
But the heart of it is the kids. We talk about school crossing patrol as more than road safety, because the lollipop lady can be the first kind face a child meets that day. We get into how they build trust, teach safe habits, keep spirits up on hard mornings, and why safeguarding, Garda vetting, and clear boundaries matter in modern Ireland. We also chat about Dublin City Council support, training, cover, and what good management looks like when your “office” is the middle of the road.
Then the conversation goes deeper into the lives behind the high-vis jackets: loneliness after the kids grow up, the women’s clubs that keep people connected, and the friendships that hold you up through the worst years. One guest shares her family’s experience of sudden sight loss and a diagnosis of Leber’s hereditary optic neuropathy, the guilt and grief that followed, and the practical ways they adapt, including better accessibility at sports with audio description.
If you’ve ever walked past a lollipop lady without a second thought, this will change how you see that corner. Subscribe, share with someone who grew up on your road, and leave a review so more people find the stories that keep our communities safe and human.
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Missing episodes?
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One in ten women may be living with lipedema, yet the most common advice still sounds like a shrug: eat less, move more. We’re joined by Aileen, Anne-Marie and Stephanie, three Irish women who know what it’s like to do the training, stick to the diets, watch the scales, and still feel like their legs are getting heavier, more tender and more bruised with time.
We talk through what lipedema actually is, why it’s so often mistaken for obesity or lymphoedema, and the tell-tale signs that keep showing up: disproportionate shape, ankle cuffs, swelling, pain, easy bruising and the sense of “wading through water” when you climb the stairs. Each story is different, from a photo that sparks a late-night Google search, to post-COVID inflammation and cellulitis, to years of being dismissed even when you’re slim, active and in constant discomfort.
We also get real about treatment. Surgery can be a reset, not a cure, and recovery is not a quick holiday turnaround. When Ireland lacks a clear national clinical pathway and access to specialist care, many women are forced abroad, paying thousands and managing the fear and logistics of general anaesthetic far from home. We dig into the advocacy work happening now, including the challenges with health insurance coverage, the push for better clinician education, and the community support that is helping women feel less alone.
If this resonates, share the episode with someone who needs it, follow along for more lipedema awareness in Ireland, and leave a review so more women can find these conversations. What’s one symptom or moment that made you think “this isn’t just me”?
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A child asked “What’s a community centre?” and that one question tells you a lot about what’s been taken from working-class communities in Dublin. We’re joined by Lisa, Gail and Sandra from Oliver Bond Flats, and they bring us from the warm, hilarious memories of growing up in a place where everyone knew everyone, to the hard truth of what it’s like living there now.
We talk about overcrowding, leaving school early because there’s no space to study, and how mental health was often treated as something you just powered through. We also name the heroin years and the way recovery supports and local jobs once helped the community breathe again, then ask what happens when youth services lose the fun, the trips and the safe places that keep teenagers steady.
Then we get into the housing conditions people are facing today: damp and black mould that keeps coming back, leaks that need buckets, rats drawn to bins left outside, and the stress of trying to keep a home decent when the building itself is failing. We unpack the Oliver Bond regeneration plan, why residents fought for a real community centre, and how a last-minute funding decision threatens to make the housing crisis in Ireland even worse on the ground. If you care about Dublin social housing, tenants’ rights, and what real community investment looks like, this conversation will stay with you.
If this hits home for you, share the episode with someone who needs to hear it, subscribe for more, and leave us a review so these stories travel further.
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The loudest person in the room can be the one struggling the most, and James is brave enough to say that out loud. We talk about growing up in Clondalkin, the pressure to stay the funny one, and what it feels like when your mental health quietly collapses behind a big personality. James shares the moment he asked to be brought to hospital because he didn’t feel safe with his own thoughts, and why getting counselling was the first real step back towards himself.
From there, we get into adult ADHD in Ireland, including the relief of finally being diagnosed, the reality of crashes after periods of high energy, and the practical barriers that don’t get discussed enough: assessment costs, limited supports, and the ongoing price of ADHD medication and prescriptions. If you’ve ever searched for ADHD diagnosis Ireland, ADHD medication cost, or mental health support Dublin, you’ll hear the human story behind those phrases.
Faith brings her own powerful perspective from Sheriff Street and East Wall, including childhood anxiety, depression, and what it’s like to rely on sertraline while pregnant and still try to protect your peace. Together, we also speak openly about toxic relationships and domestic violence, how manipulation works, why people stay, and what it takes to leave. We finish with the joys and chaos too: meeting on First Dates Ireland, a surprise pregnancy, dealing with online trolling, and planning a future that actually feels safe.
If this conversation helps you, share it with one person who needs it, subscribe for more, and leave a review so more people in Ireland can find these stories. What part of James and Faith’s journey did you relate to most?
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An 18-year-old should be worrying about points, exams, and summer plans, not how to survive the day after losing a parent. Katie Ann from Ashbourne, Co Meath, joins us to tell her story with a level of honesty that stops you in your tracks: growing up in a big, scattered family, becoming fiercely close with her dad, and then watching depression and anxiety slowly take over the person she loves most.
We talk about what mental illness looks like in real life, not as a headline: the loss of routine, the messy house, the exhaustion, the fear in a parent’s eyes, and the way families often avoid naming what is happening. Katie Ann also speaks about the pressure of sixth year and Leaving Cert stress while living with constant worry, and the complicated guilt that can follow suicide bereavement, even when you have done everything you can.
She shares the moments that mattered, the moments that haunt, and the moments that helped: teachers who checked in, friends’ families who opened their homes, and supports like Pieta and HUGG for people bereaved by suicide. We also dig into coping tools that sound simple but are hard-earned, including pacing yourself through grief waves, protecting your mental health around drink, and finding small routines when motivation is gone.
If this conversation moves you, please subscribe, share it with someone who needs it, and leave a review so more people can find honest stories about grief, Irish mental health support, and suicide bereavement.
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A Christmas panto tradition, the hum of RTÉ corridors, and the soft thud of a monitor on a kitchen table—Crona Byrne’s life moves between stage lights and the toughest kind of caregiving. We open with the joy she inherited from Gay and Kathleen Byrne: toy show auditions buzzing with dance teachers and brave kids, Maureen Potter memories, and the gentle Irish habit of saying hello and moving on. Then the lens widens to honour Kathleen’s own career—Arts Council work, poetry, and a harp carried into hospitals and charity halls.
The centre of gravity shifts as Crona shares her family story with startling candour: miscarriage, emergency C-sections, and the nightly drill of infant apnea. That practice in crisis becomes the backbone for what follows—Philip’s early-onset frontal lobe dementia at 57. She maps the subtle signs, the tests that didn’t add up, the diagnosis that did, and the relentless pace since. There’s the sting of friends who vanished, the relief of the few who stayed, and the practical lifelines the Alzheimer Society offers when the HSE doors finally open. The advice is grounded and real: keep knocking, ask for day units and activity sessions, take the walk when the carer arrives, and don’t try to carry it alone.
We also roam the Irish arts that shaped her: Audrey Hepburn’s grace without entourage, Pierce Brosnan greeting crew by name, and the complicated handovers at the Late Late when one era gives way to another. There’s U2 gifting a Harley that gave Gay new freedom, Riverdance runs where Crona worked backstage, and a childhood moment feeding what she thought was a cat—until the bottle met a tiger cub. The thread through all of it is simple and strong: art as community, kindness as practice, and love as work worth doing.
If this story moved you, share it with a friend, leave a review, and subscribe. Your support helps more carers find resources and more listeners find the courage to ask for help. What part stayed with you most?
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What does it take to rebuild when justice never arrives? Theresa Robinson brings us into her Dublin childhood, the secret she carried for years, and the day seizures exposed everything. From a hospital letter to a stonewalled case, from antidepressants to anger she couldn’t name, she learned to place blame where it belonged—and to see her younger self as a child worthy of safety and love.
We trace the way small acts become lifelines. Walking a newborn through quiet COVID streets turned into laps at the park, then early-morning training, a mini marathon for One in Four, and finally the full Dublin Marathon. Theresa explains how movement gave her mind a room with windows, why consistency beats confidence, and how a friend reframed body image so she could stand taller without shrinking her story. As a mum, she speaks frankly with her daughter about consent, boundaries, and language—tools she wishes she’d had sooner.
The conversation deepens with grief. Theresa’s dad, a gent and a grafter, died after a final call from ICU and a room filled with the music he loved. She didn’t watch the last breath because she didn’t need to—there were no debts left unpaid. Her mum is finding new rhythms now: women’s groups, local centres, small steps that keep the day moving. Through it all, Theresa builds a community that prizes honest effort over perfect outcomes, helping people who’ve lived through trauma, epilepsy, or low mood find practical ways to feel capable again.
If you’re looking for a story that blends survival with hope, mental health with real tools, and fitness with heart, you’ll feel at home here. Listen, share it with someone who needs a nudge to start, and if it resonated, subscribe and leave a review so more people can find these conversations. What small step could you take today?
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A surgeon once told Rhona her baby wouldn’t be into sports. Years later, he stood on the Great Wall of China. That grit runs through everything here: sudden loss at 11, a stepdad who restored joy, early relationships tangled in jealousy and love-bombing, and the shock of an unplanned pregnancy where the father walked away. What could have hardened into bitterness became fuel for advocacy, self-respect, and a home that learns out loud.
We walk through clubfoot treatments, autism assessments, and a nine-week scan that flagged tetralogy of Fallot and possible Down syndrome. There’s a haunting non-surgery, then a successful one, and a family rhythm built on feathers, faith, and stubborn hope. A nurse’s quiet question—have you tried CBD?—opens a door Rhona didn’t expect. She researches the endocannabinoid system, Irish legality, and full spectrum hemp. Then she films everything. Within weeks, her son makes eye contact, eats new foods, and reaches for his sister’s hand. She’s clear: CBD isn’t a cure for autism; it’s a regulator that eases anxiety and sensory load so families can breathe.
The story widens: leaving a narcissist without losing herself, dropping 12 stone with a gastric bypass and discovering confidence lives elsewhere, and building daily practices—affirmations with her daughter, music over the news, the grey rock method—to protect her peace. With a partner who values her work, she turns hard-won knowledge into an Irish CBD brand grown in Wicklow, lab-tested and parent-focused, including water-soluble options for sensory needs.
What stays with you is the tone: practical, warm, and fiercely honest. We talk boundaries, stigma, dosing, and the difference between cannabis and hemp. We celebrate autistic thinking and reject cure narratives. Most of all, we trace a map from chaos to calm that any parent can adapt: advocate early, refuse limits, and choose small daily habits that lift your baseline. If this resonates, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs hope, and leave a review to help others find these conversations.
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The room goes quiet when someone tells the truth. Aidan does exactly that—about bullying that tried to break him, a voice he built to protect the boy inside, and the diagnoses that keep reshaping the map. Anxiety, depression, ADHD, and, just today, borderline personality disorder: each name explains a piece of the chaos, none of them tell him who he is. He talks about the girder moments—performing through pain in panto, collapsing on the kitchen floor, a letter written in the dark, and the exact day he chose sobriety for himself and nobody else.
We get into how a manager’s insight opened the door to an ADHD diagnosis, why five medications in nine months didn’t bring relief, and how BPD finally put a name to the paranoia and splitting that wrecked family life over something as small as a forgotten Coke zero. Aidan explains the persona “Aidan G” as a shield that lets him sing when the real Aidan would run from the mic, and how that split can be a lifeline, not a lie. Then we pivot to craft: turning online hate from a Pride performance into a defiant pop song, learning production, saying yes to small gigs, and building Eurovision dreams through relentless songwriting camps.
This is an episode about mental health, recovery, Irish pop, theatre life, and making art that tells the truth without swallowing you whole. It’s warm, raw, and weirdly joyful, because he’s decided the next six months are for bringing joy while feeling joy. If you’ve ever worn a label you didn’t choose, this conversation gives you a way to hold it differently. Listen, share with a friend who needs it, and if it resonates, subscribe and leave a review so more people can find the story and the songs.
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A childhood spent counting coins at the shop till and scooting groceries home taught Shelly how to be responsible. But nothing prepared her for the emotional calculus of young motherhood, chaos around addiction, and guiding her daughters through their father’s final months with love and honesty. This is a story about choosing steadiness when life keeps throwing curveballs—and finding your true self long after everyone thought your story was set.
We sit with the early independence of growing up in Newbridge, the move that muted her freedom, and the uneven rhythm of a blended family split between two houses. Shelly shares how teenage anxiety and nights out blurred into an on-off relationship with Paddy, a pregnancy that reset her priorities, and the relentless work of being the constant parent. When hope briefly returned—help sought, an engagement, a new baby—reality hit harder. She made the call to leave, not out of anger, but out of care for her girls and herself.
When Paddy’s vague symptoms were repeatedly dismissed, it was a gentle insistence from her partner, Talt, that led to the scan and the truth: cancer. Shelly chose to bring the girls into that truth with her—visits, pizza, little jokes—so that goodbye wouldn’t be a shock but a held moment. That decision softened grief and shaped their memories. Then, slowly, another truth surfaced. Shelly realised she’s a lesbian. With therapy, patience, and honesty at home, the label finally matched the life. The house exhaled, her style and energy aligned, and even dating—tentative, curious—became part of a kinder rhythm.
We talk about co-parenting after loss, bringing children into grief with care, coming out later in life in Ireland, and redefining what a family can look like without apology. Through it all, Shelly and Talt model a rare kind of loyalty: love that changes shape but not intention. If you’ve ever felt out of place in your own life, this conversation offers proof that clarity can come late—and still arrive right on time.
If this story moved you, follow the show, share it with a friend who needs courage today, and leave a quick review to help others find it.
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Start with the truth: a teenage girl cried for a year after the “good first day back” and a mum climbed in beside her with Harry Styles on the stereo, late‑night drives, and a plan to let light in. That’s how Just Two Girls was born—out of burnout, misdiagnosis, and the stubborn belief that honesty saves lives.
We open up about the early years—meltdowns in supermarkets, running and hiding, sensory pain around showers and hair brushing—and how a neat dyspraxia label hid what was really going on. School called Kate “a pleasure to teach” while she masked so hard she wrote “help” on sheets of paper in class. We dig into the system ping‑pong between disability teams and CAMHS, why girls are so often missed, and how a late autism diagnosis at 17 changed everything. The shift is immediate: permission to be herself, language for needs, and the confidence to say “autistic and proud” even when someone stares at curled hair and says the quiet part out loud.
There’s humour in the grit—airport assistance in pink cowboy hats, the learning hub that couldn’t compute “autistic” with “put‑together,” and the moment we asked a school to take down puzzle‑piece imagery. There’s also a practical spine for anyone navigating similar terrain: why medication became a bridge out of despair, how to design routines that regulate, what ARFID looks like beyond “picky eating,” and how sensory‑friendly hours and apartments can make travel survivable. We don’t accept “just stay home.” Access isn’t a perk; it’s parity. And advocacy isn’t branding; it’s letting someone else breathe easier because you spoke first.
If you’re a parent searching for hope, a teacher trying to help the “quiet” student, or a teenager wondering why you feel like an alien in a crowded room, pull up a chair. We’re building the thing we needed: clear language, small wins, and the courage to be seen on the bad days as much as the good ones. Subscribe, share this with a friend who needs it, and tell us: what would make public spaces kinder for you?
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Tracy Metcalfe raw conversation takes us through the remarkable highs and devastating lows of her life journey. From her humble beginnings in Darndale where "we had nothing but we had everything," to becoming a single mother navigating life's hardest challenges without consistent support, Tracy's story is one of extraordinary resilience.
The emotional centerpiece of Tracy's journey revolves around her father's passing and her spiritual interpretation of this profound loss. What began as overwhelming grief evolved through faith into an unexpected peace as she realized: "My dad went out on top." This revelation—that his death spared him from witnessing her mother's decline into dementia—provided a theological framework that transformed her understanding of loss. Her viral video featuring her father's humorous reaction to a fake designer bag purchase stands as a treasured memory that unexpectedly connected with thousands.
Tracy speaks candidly about her physical transformation journey, including weight loss surgery and subsequent reconstructive procedures. Her harrowing experience traveling to Turkey for dental work only to discover all her teeth needed extraction resulted in four months without teeth while continuing to raise her teenage daughter and work in a detention center. Despite these external changes, she reveals the persistent internal struggle with body dysmorphia—the inability to recognize her transformed appearance despite objective evidence.
The conversation culminates in Tracy's faith journey, which she carefully distinguishes from "religion." Finding community in non-denominational Christianity has provided meaning amid suffering. "I hate the word religion," she explains, "we focus on a relationship." This distinction forms the cornerstone of her spiritual practice and emerging peace.
For anyone navigating grief, physical transformation, or questioning their purpose, Tracy's story demonstrates how finding meaning in suffering doesn't eliminate pain but can transform how we carry it. Listen and discover how resilience can emerge from even the darkest places when we're open to unexpected sources of light.
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Two sisters bravely share the heartbreaking story of how they lost their father to domestic violence, revealing a devastating truth about male victims that's rarely discussed in our society.
Growing up in Dublin with a father they describe as strict but loving, Karen and Lynn never imagined they'd one day be fighting for justice in a system that failed to protect him. Their father's relationship with a younger woman from the Czech Republic raised concerns from the beginning – strange behaviour, inconsistent stories, and troubling incidents involving their children. But what started as uncomfortable family dynamics gradually revealed itself as something far more sinister.
The sisters recount the mounting evidence they witnessed: unexplained bruises their father would dismiss, disturbing late-night phone calls from his partner, and incidents where police were called to their home. Despite their growing suspicions, they struggled to believe their proud, strong father could be a victim of domestic abuse. When confronted, he would change the subject or become defensive – a response they now recognize as common among male victims trapped in abusive relationships.
What makes this story particularly powerful is how it challenges our assumptions about domestic violence. The sisters describe their shock at discovering their father had taken out safety orders he never followed through with, and how authorities missed critical warning signs. When tragedy finally struck – captured on CCTV as his partner pushed him with fatal force – the justice system compounded their grief by minimizing the pattern of abuse during sentencing and redacting their victim impact statements.
Now caring for their father's teenage daughter, the sisters have transformed their pain into purpose, advocating for legal reforms and greater awareness of male victims who often suffer in silence until it's too late. Their message is urgent and clear: domestic abuse affects people of all genders, and society must do better at recognizing and protecting all victims before more lives are lost.
Have you noticed warning signs of abuse in someone you care about? Don't wait to reach out – resources are available regardless of gender, and your concern could save a life.
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What happens when a troubled teenager from a Dublin council estate discovers faith in the midst of chaos? Des Curtis' story is nothing short of miraculous.
Growing up in Whitechurch during the 1980s, Des experienced firsthand the devastating impact of family breakdown when his parents separated due to his father's alcoholism. At just seven years old, he found himself packing his toys into black bin bags as his mother fled with her children to a women's refuge. The years that followed were marked by profound instability – his mother's struggles with depression and suicide attempts, Des's own descent into substance abuse beginning at age eleven, and his eventual expulsion from two secondary schools.
By fifteen, Des appeared destined to become another statistic, until an unexpected path emerged through carpentry. Yet even this hope was shattered when a devastating motorbike accident left him with metal plates in his arms and ended his career dreams. Isolated, depressed, and smoking cannabis alone in his garden shed, Des reluctantly agreed to join a church football team – a decision that would transform his life forever.
The transformation wasn't immediate or magical. It came through authentic relationships with teammates who talked about God as if He were real and present in their lives. When Des finally made the decision to embrace faith for himself at nineteen, he experienced a profound emotional release as years of accumulated trauma began to heal. That very evening, when offered drugs by former friends, he found himself declining – something fundamental had shifted within him.
Des's journey continued through Bible college where he met his future wife, Judith, and discovered his calling to ministry – something he never would have predicted. Today, as a pastor at St. Mark's Church, Des reflects on the power of forgiveness, particularly regarding his father, and the joy he's found through his relationship with God.
Whether you're struggling with your own past or simply curious about faith, Des's story reminds us that transformation is possible even from the most unlikely beginnings. As he puts it, "People ask me if I believe in miracles. I say I do, because I am one."
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The raw, harrowing account of losing a child to reckless driving collides with a mother's fierce determination to seek justice in this powerful conversation with Catherine Killalee.
Catherine takes us through the life of her son Dylan – a football-loving, energetic young man who was just six weeks away from completing his electrical apprenticeship when tragedy struck. With disarming honesty, she recounts the night she received the devastating phone call, rushing to the scene at the Red Cow intersection where Dylan had been fatally hit by a speeding driver going more than twice the legal limit.
What follows is a gut-wrenching journey through Ireland's justice system that leaves more questions than answers. Catherine details the agonizing process of identifying her son's body, being prevented from touching him, telling his younger twin siblings what happened, and organizing a funeral where Dylan's football teammates formed a guard of honor despite the bitter cold.
The most infuriating part of Catherine's story emerges when she describes the court proceedings. Despite the driver's excessive speed and fleeing the scene, he received just four years and four months – effectively serving around three years with standard reductions. Meanwhile, Catherine discovered her son suffered 65 fatal injuries, including amputated legs, only when it was read aloud in court, with the perpetrator sitting just feet away.
Catherine's passionate call for reform resonates throughout as she fights to appeal what she sees as a grossly inadequate sentence. Her description of grief as "sneaky" and the ripple effect through her entire family creates a portrait of loss that's both universal and achingly specific. Through tears and determination, she represents countless families who feel betrayed by a system meant to deliver justice but instead compounds their pain.
Ready to support change in how dangerous driving cases are handled? Share this episode and join the conversation about meaningful justice reform that truly values human life.
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Hayley Joyce opens up about her remarkable journey from the Ballymun flats to becoming a respected chef and social media creator with a passion for making weight loss accessible and enjoyable for everyone.
Growing up in Shangan flats created lasting memories for Hayley – the community spirit, the chip vans outside their block, and the distinctive warmth rising through the building that her mother still misses today. These formative years shaped her down-to-earth approach to life and cooking, creating a foundation for the relatable content she now shares with thousands.
Her path to social media success wasn't planned but evolved naturally during lockdown. What started as simple Slimming World food posts for friends and family transformed into a platform where she shares calorie-counted meals and her popular "fakeaway" series – healthier versions of takeaway classics. "I want to make people's weight loss journey fun," she explains. "I don't want people just thinking they have to eat chicken and rice." This philosophy of making healthy eating accessible rather than restrictive resonates deeply with her followers.
Behind the food content lies a story of profound resilience. Hayley speaks candidly about losing her school friend Jennifer to domestic violence and the sudden death of her best friend Leah last year. These losses changed her completely, temporarily derailing her content creation until she found the strength to continue, knowing her friend would have wanted her to carry on. Her ongoing relationship with Leah's daughter Heidi provides both healing and purpose.
Currently navigating the challenges of house hunting with her boyfriend of nine years, Hayley maintains her characteristic optimism despite the frustrations of bidding wars in today's property market. Looking toward the future, she hopes for a home of their own and starting a family, approaching each new chapter with the same authenticity that defines her social media presence.
Follow Hayley for simple, delicious recipes that prove weight loss doesn't have to be boring, and witness how someone can transform personal struggles into a platform that uplifts others. Her story reminds us that sometimes our greatest purpose emerges from our deepest pain.
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Every single thing in his life I've had to fight for." These words cut to the heart of Jodie's experience raising Caelan, her five-year-old son with autism and developmental delays. In this raw conversation, Jodie takes us through her journey from a complicated pregnancy at 19 to her current desperate search for a school placement for her son.
The system's failings become painfully clear as Jodie recounts the endless waiting lists, denied services, and bureaucratic obstacles that have defined her family's experience. Despite a formal autism diagnosis, Caelan has received virtually no public speech therapy or occupational therapy. Now, after applying to 18 different schools with autism classes, they've been rejected from nearly all - joining a growing community of families with nowhere to send their children come September.
What makes this conversation so powerful is Jodie's unflinching honesty about both the joys and struggles of raising Caelan. She describes the sleepless nights that finally improved with melatonin, the meltdowns she couldn't understand because her son couldn't communicate what was wrong, and the beautiful moments of connection that make everything worthwhile. Through tears and determined advocacy, she reveals how parents are forced to become experts, fighters, and researchers when the systems meant to help them fail.
This isn't just one family's story - it represents a national crisis affecting hundreds of children with autism across Ireland. As Jodie puts it: "It's constantly going around in circles." Join us for this essential conversation about what happens when children with special needs fall through the cracks, and the parents who refuse to let them be forgotten.
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Raw honesty hits like a thunderbolt when Brenda Dennehy opens up about the relentless washing machine of anxiety that spun in her head since childhood. Her journey from a loving Cork family to the depths of addiction offers profound insights into how mental health struggles can silently shape our lives long before we understand what's happening.
Brenda's story shatters the stereotype of alcoholism only affecting older men, revealing how at just 25, she was secretly battling withdrawal symptoms while maintaining the façade of a promising media career. The heart-wrenching moment she finally whispered "I need help" to her mother after a public breakdown at an All-Ireland Final marks just the beginning of a recovery path filled with unexpected turns.
What makes this conversation extraordinary isn't just Brenda's unflinching account of her two rock bottoms – it's watching her remarkable resilience bloom into genuine self-love. After years of hating herself, losing dream jobs, and overdosing on prescription medication, she fought back with unwavering determination, ultimately manifesting her long-held dream of working in London television. The transformation from someone who couldn't go grocery shopping without crippling anxiety to a woman who proudly declares "I'm my own best friend" offers hope that's both realistic and deeply inspiring.
Whether you've faced addiction yourself, supported someone who has, or simply want to understand the complex relationship between mental health and substance dependency, this conversation will change how you think about recovery. Brenda's powerful testament to staying sober through her father's sudden death reminds us that our greatest achievements aren't always visible to others – sometimes they're the quiet victories we win every single day when we choose to keep going.
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Raw, resilient, and refreshingly real – Stephanie Simons opens up for the first time about the extraordinary journey that shaped the woman behind Bowie Stacks beauty empire.
From her first breaths, born into homelessness with a teenage mother battling addiction, Stephanie's path was never going to be ordinary. The Ballybough Flats provided a backdrop of community amid poverty, where childhood games existed alongside the harsh realities of Dublin's drug epidemic. With unflinching honesty, she reveals the physical and mental abuse she endured as a child, stepping into a parental role for her younger sister while still a child herself.
Dancing became her escape – until bullying shattered that dream when her hair began falling out from stress. But as Stephanie's story unfolds, we witness the remarkable resilience that would define her life. From beauty college to running "nixers" door-to-door, she built her first salon by age 20. Even as motherhood and pandemic challenges arose, she persevered, performing treatments with a newborn in a carry cot beside her.
Perhaps most powerful is Stephanie's candid discussion of the online controversy that nearly destroyed her – when a treatment complication went viral and unleashed a torrent of trolling. Yet through faith, determination and unwavering focus, she transformed that visibility into business growth, now operating multiple locations across Ireland.
This conversation goes beyond beauty treatments (though we do learn about salmon DNA injections and other innovations). It's about a woman who refused to be defined by her circumstances, who breaks generational cycles for her children, and who stands tall despite persistent challenges.
Have you ever wondered what truly builds strength? Listen as Stephanie shares her powerful message: "No matter what cards you're dealt, it's how you play them."
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