Category Archives: Psychotherapy

When Life Feels Like Too Much: The Pressures of Young Adulthood

There has been growing discussion in the UK about the mental health of younger people and the pressures they are experiencing. A recent BBC report exploring these questions has brought some of this debate into the wider public conversation. Some of this discussion has been framed around the idea of a “snowflake generation”; a suggestion that younger people may be less resilient than previous generations. But perhaps there is another question worth asking: What if the issue is not simply that young people are less able to cope, but that they are trying to cope with more?

An independent review into mental health, ADHD and autism, chaired by Professor Peter Fonagy, has found evidence that psychological distress has increased particularly among younger people. The review identifies increases in emotional symptoms, loneliness, sleep difficulties, loss of confidence and difficulties concentrating. Importantly, it also emphasises that the reasons for these changes are complex and cannot be explained by one factor alone. This is something I increasingly recognise in my work with younger clients. They may be studying, starting work, building careers, developing relationships and trying to establish an independent life. From the outside, they may appear to be managing. Yet underneath, there can be a persistent sense of pressure; a feeling that they should be further ahead, coping better or somehow more certain about who they are and where they are going. Sometimes life simply feels like too much.

The pressure of becoming an adult

Young adulthood has always involved uncertainty. There has always been the transition from education into work, the development of relationships, financial independence and the gradual discovery of who we are. But these processes are taking place within a very different social environment. University students and graduates may be thinking about their future while facing uncertainty about employment and finances. Those entering the workplace may feel pressure to establish themselves quickly. Social media can provide connection while simultaneously exposing us to other people’s achievements, relationships and lifestyles. News and information are available continuously. There can be very little sense of being completely tuned out. The result can be a strange contradiction. There are more possibilities than ever, yet choosing between them can feel overwhelming. There is more information, yet knowing what to trust can feel difficult. We are constantly connected, yet many young people report feeling lonely. And there can be an increasing expectation to know what we want from life at precisely the age when we are still discovering it.

When external expectations become internal pressure

Perhaps one of the most significant psychological effects of living within this environment is what happens when external expectations become internal ones. A young person may hear messages about success, independence, productivity and achievement from many different directions. Over time, these messages can become an internal voice: I should be doing more. I should have a better job by now. I should know what I want. Everyone else seems to be managing. I should be happier. I shouldn’t find this so difficult.

What began as an expectation from outside can gradually become something we expect from ourselves. This can be particularly difficult when self-worth becomes connected to performance. Not getting the job becomes I am not good enough. Struggling at university becomes I am failing.

Needing time away from work becomes I am lazy. Not knowing what career to pursue becomes I am falling behind. The difficulty is no longer simply the situation itself. It becomes what the situation appears to say about us.

The comparison we cannot switch off

Social media is often identified as one of the pressures affecting younger people, and it is important not to oversimplify this. Social media can provide friendship, community, creativity and support. But it can also create an environment in which we are continually exposed to other people’s lives. We see the promotion, not the uncertainty before it. The relationship, not necessarily the difficulties within it. The achievement, not the years of effort behind it. The finished product, not the unfinished process.

Comparison can therefore become psychologically complicated. We may compare our everyday reality with somebody else’s carefully selected moments. And when we are already uncertain about ourselves, another person’s apparent success can become evidence of our own inadequacy.

When coping becomes another expectation

There is another pressure that is perhaps less obvious. We are increasingly encouraged to be resilient, practise self-care, regulate our emotions and develop healthy coping strategies. These are valuable things. But what happens when coping itself becomes another measure of whether we are doing well?

A person may already be exhausted by work, study, financial worries or relationship difficulties. They may then become anxious because they are not coping with those difficulties in the “right” way. They are not simply struggling. They feel that they are failing at struggling well. This can create another layer of self-criticism. Why can’t I manage this? What is wrong with me?

In therapy, this distinction can be important. The question is not simply, “How can I cope better?” Sometimes it is also: “What have I actually been trying to cope with?”

Loss of psychological space

One of the things we can lose when life becomes demanding is psychological space. There is a difference between being physically alone and having enough internal space to notice what we think and feel. If the day moves from university or work to messages, social media, responsibilities, social expectations and the pressure to make decisions about the future, there may be very little opportunity simply to stop. Without that space, it can become difficult to distinguish between our own wishes and the expectations we have absorbed from other people.

We may know what we should want. But do we know what we actually want? We may know what would look successful. But does it feel meaningful to us?

We may be pursuing a particular future because it is what we have learned to associate with being successful, secure or valued. And sometimes therapy provides the first real opportunity to step back from all of that and ask: What is mine?

Resilience is not equal to suffering in silence

There is an understandable desire to encourage young people to become resilient. But resilience should not mean becoming endlessly capable of carrying pressure without being affected by it. Sometimes resilience involves recognising that something is not working. Sometimes it means asking for help. Sometimes it means setting a boundary. Sometimes it means accepting that we do not yet know what comes next. And sometimes it means questioning an expectation rather than automatically trying harder to meet it. This is not about removing personal responsibility. In fact, greater self-awareness can increase our sense of responsibility because it allows us to make more conscious choices. The important distinction is between choosing our direction and simply responding to everything that is being asked of us.

Which expectations genuinely belong to me?

Growing into adulthood is not a test that we are supposed to pass by a particular age. It is a process of becoming. There will be uncertainty, mistakes, changes of direction and periods when we feel that we are not where we thought we would be. That does not necessarily mean we are failing. Psychotherapy can offer a space to explore the difference between the expectations we have inherited and the values we genuinely hold; between the voice of the inner critic and our own perspective; between what we think we should be and who we are actually becoming. Perhaps the most useful question is therefore not: Why can’t I cope with everything? But: Which of these expectations genuinely belong to me?

Because sometimes life feels like too much not because there is something wrong with us, but because we have become so accustomed to carrying expectations that we have stopped asking whether they were ever ours to carry.

If life is feeling like too much

If you recognise something of yourself in this article, you do not have to wait until things become overwhelming before seeking support. Talking with a therapist can provide a quiet, confidential space to step back from the pressures around you, understand what is happening beneath them, and begin to work out what genuinely matters to you. Therapy is not about telling you what choices to make. It can offer a space to become clearer about your own thoughts, feelings, needs and values, so that you can begin to make those choices for yourself.

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.

When Intimacy Feels Difficult: Emotional Safety, Pressure, and Connection

Many people struggle with intimacy in relationships while still deeply wanting closeness and connection. They may love their partner, value the relationship, and long to feel emotionally and physically connected, yet still find intimacy difficult, overwhelming, or emotionally complicated. This can be confusing and painful for both people in the relationship. Often, the person struggling with intimacy begins to wonder if something is wrong with them, while their partner may feel rejected or unsure how to help.

Why Intimacy Can Feel Overwhelming

In many cases, intimacy difficulties are not caused by a lack of love or attraction. Instead, they are connected to emotional safety and the way the nervous system responds to closeness. For people who have experienced emotionally difficult, controlling, or unpredictable relationships earlier in life, intimacy can sometimes activate old emotional patterns beneath conscious awareness. The body may experience closeness not only as connection, but also as vulnerability, expectation, pressure, or loss of control. Even in safe and loving relationships, these older emotional associations can remain active for many years.

Emotional Dysregulation and Relationships

This is closely connected to emotional dysregulation in relationships. When emotions feel overwhelming, the nervous system naturally tries to restore balance and safety. Some people become anxious or hyper-alert, while others emotionally withdraw, shut down, or detach from their feelings. In intimate relationships, this can appear as avoiding closeness, struggling with physical intimacy, becoming emotionally distant, or feeling unable to respond freely when intimacy feels expected rather than chosen. These responses are rarely deliberate. More often, they are protective patterns developed earlier in life when emotional safety felt uncertain or inconsistent. Over time, the mind and body learn to monitor for pressure, criticism, emotional demand, or conflict, even when no conscious threat exists in the present.

The Role of Emotional Safety

These responses are rarely deliberate. More often, they are protective patterns developed earlier in life when emotional safety felt uncertain or inconsistent. Over time, the mind and body learn to monitor for pressure, criticism, emotional demand, or conflict, even when no conscious threat exists in the present. This is one reason emotional connection is often essential before physical intimacy can feel comfortable. Feeling emotionally understood, respected, and free to choose can help the nervous system relax enough for closeness to feel safer and more natural. Without emotional safety, intimacy can begin to feel pressured or performative, even within otherwise caring relationships. Therapy for intimacy issues often involves helping people understand these patterns with greater compassion rather than self-criticism. Instead of asking, “What is wrong with me?”, the focus gradually shifts toward understanding what the nervous system may be trying to protect against. This shift matters because shame tends to intensify emotional dysregulation, while understanding and self-awareness help create emotional safety.

Rebuilding Trust and Connection

Part of the therapeutic process also involves learning to slow things down. Many people who struggle with intimacy have spent years overriding their own discomfort, disconnecting from bodily signals, or feeling responsible for other people’s emotional needs. Rebuilding trust in oneself often begins with recognising emotional limits, listening to internal responses, and allowing genuine choice within relationships. Over time, intimacy can begin to feel less driven by pressure or expectation and more connected to emotional safety, mutual respect, and authentic connection. Difficulties with intimacy do not mean someone is broken or incapable of closeness. More often, they reflect a nervous system that learned to protect itself carefully in the past. With patience, understanding, and supportive therapeutic work, people can gradually develop relationships that feel safer, calmer, and more emotionally connected.

Collette O’Mahony May 2026

If you would like support exploring intimacy difficulties, emotional dysregulation, or relationship patterns, psychotherapy can provide a safe space to better understand these experiences and develop healthier ways of relating to yourself and 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 or email me at info@colletteomahony.com

Finding Your Inner Compass:

From External to Internal Locus of Evaluation

In my counselling practice, one of the most transformative shifts I witness in clients is the move from an External Locus of Evaluation to an Internal Locus of Evaluation. When we live with an external locus, we are essentially living our lives according to a script written by others. When we begin to develop an internal locus, we start writing our own script. Understanding this transition is essential for anyone seeking deeper authenticity and emotional resilience.

The External Locus: Living for the Audience

Carl Rogers developed this concept to explain how people, through therapy or personal growth, shift from needing external validation to trusting their own internal judgment. An external locus of evaluation occurs when we outsource our self-worth and decision-making to the world around us. It is like trying to navigate a landscape while constantly looking at a mirror held by someone else to see if we are going the right way.

Self-worth fluctuates based on the feedback of others. Praise provides a temporary hit of stability, while criticism feels like a profound threat to your identity. Decisions are often paralysis-inducing, filtered through the lens of “What will they think?” rather than “What do I value?”

You may find yourself morphing your personality, opinions, or behaviours to fit the specific audience you are with, leading to a fragmented sense of self. Because you distrust your own judgment, you rely heavily on authority figures or peers to tell you if you are on the “right” path.

The Internal Locus: Trusting Your Own North Star

Moving toward an internal locus of evaluation is not about becoming cold or indifferent to others; it is about reclaiming your own sovereignty. It is the process of shifting your reference point from the outside world back to your own core values.

Your sense of “rightness” is no longer a public vote; it is an internal alignment. You ask, “Does this feel right for me?”

You can tolerate being misunderstood or disagreed with because your stability is no longer contingent on external consensus. Your identity remains relatively stable across different contexts. You aren’t playing a role; you are simply being yourself. You set limits based on your own needs and capacities, rather than shifting them to accommodate external expectations or fear of rejection.

Understanding the Roots: Why We Adopt an External Locus

Perhaps you are wondering: If an internal locus is more authentic and resilient, why do so many of us start with, and stay stuck in, an external one? The answer is rarely about a lack of character; it is almost always about survival and adaptation.

The Survival Mechanism: Why We Look Outward

From an evolutionary and developmental perspective, our early environment dictates how we learn to orient ourselves. We are social creatures; for a human child, connection with caregivers is not just a preference; it is a biological necessity for survival.

Adaptive Compliance: If you grew up in an environment where your needs were only met when you were “good,” “quiet,” or “compliant,” you learned early on that your worth was contingent on your performance. You had to monitor your caregivers’ expressions and expectations to ensure your own security.

The Cost of Authenticity: In many families, expressing a divergent opinion or asserting a personal boundary was met with withdrawal of affection, ridicule, or punishment. To stay “safe” within that system, you learned to suppress your internal signals and prioritize the expectations of others.

External Anchoring: When caregivers are emotionally inconsistent or preoccupied, a child may struggle to develop a stable sense of self. They turn to external feedback as a way to “check” if they are okay, essentially using others as an external barometer for their own internal safety.

Conditioning Through Life Experiences

Beyond childhood, our environments continue to reinforce an external locus. We are rarely rewarded for being “internally validated”; society, in fact, is often structured to keep us in that external loop.

Educational and Workplace Systems: Many structures are built on hierarchies that prioritize conformity over critical, independent thought. When grades, promotions, and bonuses are tied entirely to how well we adhere to someone else’s rubric, we are being trained to maintain an external focus.

The Echo Chamber of social media: Modern life presents us with a constant, quantified feedback loop. Likes, comments, and views provide an immediate, data-driven “external locus” that is highly addictive. It is easy to start believing that our value is quantifiable, leading to a profound erosion of internal trust.

Moving From Safety to Selfhood

It is important to approach this realisation with profound self-compassion. If you have an external locus, you do not lack individuality; you successfully adapted to a world that demanded your compliance. Your individuality strengthens when the scaffolding of conditioning is dismantled.

The struggle to develop an internal locus is not about fixing a broken part of yourself; it is about realising that the survival tools you needed in your formative years are no longer the tools that serve you as an adult. When you were younger, looking outward was the smartest way to survive. Now, looking inward is the bravest way to thrive.

How the Shift From External to Internal Locus Facilitates Change

This is not a binary switch, but a journey of reclamation. As you practice shifting your locus of evaluation, several profound changes occur:

Reduced Anxiety: You stop carrying the exhausting burden of managing other people’s perceptions.

Increased Agency: When you trust your own judgment, you feel capable of navigating challenges without needing constant external reassurance.

Self-Compassion: You stop the cycle of global self-condemnation. A mistake becomes a data point for learning, rather than evidence of your personal inadequacy.

Deeper Relationships: Paradoxically, by relying less on others for stability, you become more capable of forming genuine, interdependent connections, as you are relating from a place of wholeness rather than neediness.

If you are currently feeling as though you are living for an audience, I invite you to start small. Next time you face a choice, pause. Ask yourself: If I knew that no one would ever know, or if I knew that no one could judge my decision, what would I choose? That small act of inquiry is the first step toward your internal compass.

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.

When Coping Gets Misread as Condition:

Adaptation and Neurodevelopment.

In today’s mental health landscape, more people than ever are recognising themselves in diagnostic labels. Short-form content on social media apps has made information about ADHD, trauma, and emotional wellbeing widely accessible. This has helped reduce stigma and encouraged people to seek support, but it has also blurred important distinctions. One question is quietly emerging for many: Is this ADHD, or could it be emotional dysregulation shaped by my experiences?

This article explores that overlap with care. This is not about discrediting neurodiversity, nor about gatekeeping diagnosis. It is about creating space for nuanced self-reflection, particularly for those whose struggles may stem from adaptive responses to early environments rather than innate neurological differences.

Why Emotional Dysregulation Can Look Like ADHD

Emotional dysregulation refers to difficulty managing, processing, or responding to emotional experiences. It can show up as overwhelm, impulsivity, shutdown, or intense mood shifts. These patterns often resemble traits associated with ADHD; such as difficulty concentrating, restlessness, or reactive decision-making. On the surface, the overlap can feel convincing. However, similarity in behaviour does not always mean similarity in origin. For some individuals, these traits are linked to neurodevelopmental differences. For others, they reflect learned responses shaped by stress, relationships, or early environments. Understanding this distinction is not about being right; it’s about being accurate enough to support meaningful change.

Adaptation: When Coping Becomes a Pattern

Children adapt to their environments in remarkably intelligent ways. When emotional needs are not consistently met, whether through unpredictability, lack of attunement, or emotional absence, they develop strategies to cope.

A child who grows up needing to stay alert to shifts in mood may become hyper-aware of their surroundings. In adulthood, this can feel like distractibility, when it is actually a nervous system scanning for safety. Similarly, emotional suppression can resemble numbness, and impulsive reactions may stem from never having learned co-regulation. Over time, these responses become familiar. They can feel like personality traits, rather than adaptations. This is where confusion often arises. What looks like ADHD may, in some cases, be the long-term imprint of emotional dysregulation.

Emotional Regulation Is Learned in Relationship

Emotional regulation is not something we are born knowing how to do. It develops through consistent, supportive relationships where emotions are recognised, validated, and safely expressed. When this process is disrupted, adults may find themselves unsure how to identify or communicate what they feel. Some experience intense emotional flooding, while others feel disconnected or numb. Often, there are underlying beliefs that emotions are unsafe or should be hidden. These responses are not signs of failure. They are reflections of what was, or wasn’t, available during key stages of development

ADHD and Emotional Dysregulation: Holding Both Truths

It is important to say clearly that ADHD is a valid and well-established neurodevelopmental condition. It involves differences in attention, regulation, and executive functioning that are present across contexts and throughout life. At the same time, not all emotional dysregulation is ADHD. For some people, a diagnosis provides clarity, relief, and access to support. For others, understanding their patterns through the lens of emotional history and adaptation can be more accurate and helpful. Both experiences deserve respect. The goal is not to separate people into categories, but to better understand the roots of their struggles.

What has my system learned to do in order to cope?

This question opens the door to self-understanding without judgement. It shifts the focus away from labels and toward lived experience. You might begin by noticing when your patterns show up most strongly. Are they consistent across all areas of life, or more intense in emotionally charged situations? Do they shift with support, safety, or understanding? What early experiences might have shaped how you respond to stress or emotion? These reflections are not diagnostic tools, but they can offer meaningful insight which can be explored in a therapeutic setting.

Moving away from Labels.

In a world that often encourages quick identification, it can be tempting to find certainty in a label. Sometimes that label is exactly what is needed. Other times, it may overlook a more personal and nuanced story. The patterns you carry made sense at some point, even if they no longer serve you now. Real change begins not with labelling, but with understanding. And from there, something more flexible and more compassionate, can begin to take shape.

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.

When Grief Uncovers More Than Loss

How suppressed emotion shapes our experience of bereavement.

Grief Is Not Always Singular

Grief is often spoken about as a singular experience: a response to loss that moves, however unevenly, towards some form of resolution. In practice, it is rarely so contained. For many, grief does not arrive alone. It brings with it emotions that have been suppressed, deferred, or never fully felt. What presents as grief may, in part, be something older. Loss has a way of lowering the threshold of our emotional defences. The structures that once helped us manage or contain difficult feelings can become less reliable under its weight. In this sense, grief is not only an experience of loss, but also an encounter with what has been held beneath the surface.

The Spring-Loaded Box

One way to understand this is through a simple image. Suppressed emotions can be thought of as being placed into a spring-loaded box, held shut over time with effort and adaptation. For many, this becomes an unconscious posture: sitting on the lid, keeping things contained, maintaining function. It works, often for years.

When a significant loss occurs, the impact can be enough to release that pressure. The box flies open. What follows is not only grief, but a surge of feeling that may not seem directly connected to the loss itself. Emotions that have long been contained begin to surface all at once, surrounding us and clamouring for attention.

This can give rise to a particular kind of distress. Alongside grief, there may be a sense of overwhelm, disorientation, or even ‘madness’. The world can feel unfamiliar or unreal, not only because something important has been lost, but because the internal landscape has shifted so suddenly. What was once held in place is now in motion.

When the System Becomes Overwhelmed

When emotions have been consistently suppressed, they do not disappear. They remain active beneath awareness, often shaping behaviour indirectly. Grief intensifies this dynamic. A person who has learned to minimise anger may find themselves unexpectedly reactive. Someone who has avoided vulnerability may experience waves of anxiety or instability. What appears to be grief “out of control” is often the system attempting to regulate more than it has previously allowed into awareness. It is important to recognise that suppression itself is not a failure. It is often an adaptation that once served a necessary purpose. At different points in life, containing emotion may have allowed relationships to continue, responsibilities to be met, or stability to be maintained. These strategies can be effective, but they come at a cost: a narrowing of what can be consciously felt. Grief disrupts this arrangement. It places a demand on the system that these strategies cannot fully meet.

Not Disproportionate, but Cumulative

At this point, many people become concerned that their response is disproportionate. The intensity of what they are experiencing may not seem to match the loss alone. This can lead to further suppression, as they attempt to regain control, or to self-criticism, as they question their own stability. It may be more helpful to understand this not as disproportionate, but as cumulative. Grief is interacting with a wider emotional history. What is being felt in the present moment includes not only the pain of loss, but the release of what has been held over time.

Working With, Rather Than Against

The question then is not how to force the lid closed again, but how to remain in relationship with what has emerged without becoming overwhelmed by it. This begins, not with analysing every feeling, but with the gentle regulation of attention. When everything is clamouring at once, the task is not to attend to all of it, but to allow small amounts into awareness, gradually increasing the capacity to stay present. In this way, attention becomes a stabilising force rather than something that is pulled in multiple directions.

As this capacity develops, what initially feels chaotic can begin to differentiate. Grief becomes more recognisable as grief. Anger, sadness, fear, or longing can be experienced with greater clarity, rather than as a single, overwhelming mass. The system no longer needs to defend against everything at once. In time, the box is no longer required in the same way. What was once held down can be felt, in part, without the same risk of destabilisation. Grief, then, is not only an experience of loss. It is also a moment in which the inner world becomes more visible. What emerges may be difficult, but it is not without meaning. Within it is the possibility of a different relationship to emotion: one that does not rely solely on suppression, but on a growing capacity to remain present to what is there.

A Closing Reflection

Perhaps the work is not to contain everything that has been released, nor to make immediate sense of it, but to notice where our attention settles in the midst of it. When the internal world feels crowded or overwhelming, we might return, gently, to what can be held in this moment, rather than all that demands to be felt at once. In doing so, we begin to find a steadier ground within the movement of grief, where what once felt unmanageable can, over time, be met with greater presence and less fear.

Collette O’Mahony – March 2026

Contact me here.