Books, podcasts, social media, experts and influencers. Every day there seems to be another post telling you what ADHD is, what it isn’t, what you should be doing and what you’re doing wrong.

Some of it is excellent. Some of it is based on one person’s experience and shared as though it’s the answer for everyone.

It’s no wonder so many parents tell me they feel overwhelmed.

When you’re trying to make sense of it all

Every day, I work alongside teenagers and their families, helping them navigate the challenges that adolescence and ADHD can bring. Spending so much time listening to young people and parents means I see, first hand, how different every ADHD journey can be.

That’s because ADHD isn’t simple.

There isn’t one way that ADHD looks. There isn’t one strategy that works for every young person, and there certainly isn’t one way to support a teenager with ADHD.

There is no one size fits all ADHD teenager.

So there can’t be a one size fits all approach to supporting them.

ADHD and the teenage years

Teenage years are complicated enough without ADHD.

As parents, we’re trying to work out what’s part of normal adolescent development, what’s influenced by ADHD and what’s simply unique to our child.

Sometimes it’s obvious. Often it isn’t.

That’s what makes parenting a teenager with ADHD, or one you suspect may have ADHD, so challenging.

You’re not just trying to understand ADHD. You’re trying to understand your teenager.

Not somebody else’s teenager.

Not the teenager described in a book, a podcast or on social media.

Your teenager.

Their strengths.

Their challenges.

Their personality.

Their way of experiencing the world.

Because understanding your teenager is very different from simply understanding ADHD.

Understanding comes before strategies

When parents come to see me, they’re often hoping for practical strategies that will make life easier.

Strategies absolutely have their place, but I’ve learnt that they work best when they’re built on understanding.

When we understand what’s happening beneath the behaviour, we stop asking, “Why won’t they?” and begin asking, “What’s making this difficult?”

That small shift can change everything.

It helps us respond with curiosity instead of frustration. It helps our teenagers feel understood instead of judged. It reminds us that many young people with ADHD are already trying much harder than we realise.

Understanding comes before strategies.

Why Vicki and I created these workshops

That’s why I’ve teamed up with Vicki Clark from Neon Mind to create two workshops for parents of teenagers with ADHD, and for those who are beginning to wonder whether ADHD might explain the challenges they’re seeing.

Between us, we bring two different but complementary perspectives.

I spend my days working alongside teenagers and their families, helping them make sense of adolescence and the additional challenges that ADHD can bring.

Vicki is an ADHD coach, and the parent of neurodivergent teenagers. She brings both professional knowledge and lived experience of supporting ADHD every day.

Together, we combine professional expertise with lived experience to help parents cut through the noise and better understand their teenagers.

We’re not here to tell you how to parent your teenager.

We’re here to help you understand them.

Because when understanding changes, everything else can begin to change too.

Our workshops can be attended individually, or together if you’d like to build a deeper understanding over both evenings.

If you’d like to join us, we’d love to welcome you.

Find out more and book your place here.

At the start…..

Two years ago, my oldest received his place at university and the organising began.

Looking back now, I can also see just how much that first year changed both of us. I’ve written more about what I learnt from that experience in my blog about my son’s first year at university.

Researching.

Shopping.

Endless lists of everything he would need.

I even visited the town where he would be studying, just to get a feel for the area and a sense of where my boy would be spending the next three years of his life.

At the time, I thought I was preparing him.

Looking back, I can see I was coping.

And then I realised….

We unpacked his room, went out for lunch and then it was time to leave.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

In that moment, I saw the realisation in his eyes. This was it. It was time for us to leave so he could take this step into his chosen future.

Walking away from him was the hardest thing I have ever done as a mum.

Not because I didn’t want him to go. I did. This was everything he had worked so hard for.

But because, in that moment, I realised I had no more organising to prop me up.

What I’ve come to understand about parenting transitions

So here I am, two years later, with my youngest about to leave on his own university adventure.

What I’ve come to understand about myself is this.

Sometimes all the organising isn’t really about the practical tasks at all.

Sometimes it’s the way I protect myself from what’s coming next.

I’ve noticed myself returning to the lists, the organising, the planning, the preparing. This time, with more practical knowledge from experience, but still with a heaviness in my heart.

Because I know that, at some point in the very near future, the organising will stop.

And that’s when the real work begins.

The work of navigating the emotions of letting go.

Looking beyond university

This experience made me wonder how many of us, as parents, who are so good at putting our children front and centre of our lives, use the practical day to day expectations, especially during times of transition, as a way of coping with the emotional weight they can bring.

And I’m not just talking about university.

September brings all kinds of changes, whether your child is starting school, moving to secondary school or beginning another academic year. I shared more about navigating those seasonal changes in Parenting Teens Through Change: September Survival Guide.

They are all important steps forward for our children, but they often ask something of us too.

We have to readjust.

We have to learn to navigate the ever changing landscape of what it means to be their parent.

More than just a parent

I’ve come to realise that every step forward in our children’s lives is another step for us to take stock, recalibrate and understand ourselves a little better. Letting go isn’t something we do once. I’ve written before about how it happens in stages throughout our children’s lives, not just when they leave home in Letting Go as a Parent of a Teenager.

The emotions we feel deeply, or sometimes try to pretend aren’t there, are real.

They are expected.

When our children finally fly the nest, we no longer have somewhere to turn to preoccupy ourselves.

That’s when we have to remember who we are, not only as a parent, but as a person too.

Clare x

If this resonated with you…

Parenting teenagers isn’t just about supporting them. It’s also about understanding ourselves. If you’re looking for support, you’ll find my latest workshops, events and ways to work with me here.

Like many parents, my first reaction was simple.

If it keeps children safer online, surely that’s a good thing.

But the more I’ve thought about it, and the more I’ve considered the teenagers and parents I support every week, the more I’ve realised that my thoughts are a little more complex than that.

The question isn’t simply whether the social media ban is right or wrong. It’s whether we’re preparing older teenagers for the digital world they’ll inevitably return to.

What do older teenagers need from us if we genuinely want to prepare them to navigate the digital world safely?

For me, the answer isn’t simply a ban. It’s helping them develop the understanding, confidence and digital literacy they’ll need long after the ban has ended.

Why so many parents welcome the social media ban

There is no doubt that social media has become one of the biggest challenges facing parents in this digital age. We have witnessed devastating consequences when young people, without the maturity or insight to manage what is often adult content, fall prey to unscrupulous individuals, harmful communities and algorithms designed to keep them engaged.

I completely understand why parents of younger children are welcoming this decision. Many have spent years trying to delay smartphones and social media, having observed the negative consequences these devices can have on developing brains.

It is a tough one to parent, so the relief must be palpable.

And I celebrate the positive impact of the ban for you and your children.

Where my perspective differs

Where my point of view differs is not in wanting to keep young people safe.

We all want that.

It is in how we support older teenagers who are already living in a digital world.

For those older teens who have already developed habits, friendships and ways of communicating online, I do not believe this ban alone is enough. Nor do I believe that all under 16s should be treated as one group without considering age, brain development and emotional maturity.

Instead, I see an opportunity.

An opportunity to teach digital literacy.

An opportunity to help teenagers understand the realities of the online world, to question what they’re seeing, recognise when they’re being influenced, and build the confidence to make informed choices for themselves.

Because when they turn 16 they will be re-exposed to these platforms and everything they have to offer.

If they have not had the opportunity to develop the skills to navigate them safely, will they be any better prepared?

This is where I believe parenting in a digital world remains just as important as ever.

Understanding the teenage brain

The ban fails to fully recognise the realities of the teenage brain. Adolescence is a time when young people naturally pull towards developing their own identities, preferences and choices, which do not always align with the adults in their world, and neither should they.

Some teenagers will inevitably look for ways around the ban. If that happens, they may become more vulnerable because those conversations are happening out of sight.

At the same time, I think we should also be asking where the pressure is on the technology companies themselves to take responsibility for the way their platforms are designed to keep vulnerable young people engaged.

What can parents of older teenagers do?

If you are a parent of an older teenager, especially one who already has an online presence, don’t assume that once social media is switched off everything will become easier.

Because, in my opinion, it won’t.

For younger children, there is truth in the phrase, “You don’t miss what you never had.” Delaying access to smartphones and social media is likely to offer them greater protection, particularly if they have never become reliant on these platforms in the first place.

But if you are a parent of an older teen who will be impacted by this ban, get curious.

Get curious about:

• How your teenager uses social media.
• Whether it is where they communicate with friends.
• Whether it is where they feel part of a community.
• Whether they have an online presence that is important to them.

For some young people, particularly those who are neurodiverse, social media has become an important way of self-regulating and processing after busy days or when they are experiencing sensory overload. I am not saying this is the preferred way, but for some it has become an important part of how they manage their daily lives.

The answers to these questions will help you understand how your teenager experiences the digital world, how they may be impacted by the ban, and how likely they might be to look for ways around it.

Please never think, “My child wouldn’t do that.”

Many teenagers are far more capable than we give them credit for.

We are all hoping, none more than I, that this ban will improve young people’s wellbeing. I genuinely hope it does.

But for some older teenagers, the short-term impact may be very different as they adapt to rules imposed on them without feeling that their own views, experiences or needs have been considered.

The conversation doesn’t end with a ban

For me, this has never been about being for or against the ban.

It is about recognising that a ban on its own will not prepare older teenagers for the online world they will inevitably enter.

Helping our teenagers develop digital literacy, recognise manipulation, understand the impact of social media on their wellbeing, and know how to keep themselves safer online will always matter.

As analogue parents raising a digital generation, we cannot have all the answers.

But we can stay curious, keep the conversation going, and help our teenagers build the understanding and confidence they’ll need long after this ban has ended.

Last bank holiday weekend, my husband and I took our newly acquired campervan, lovingly named Snowdrop (the only other female in my house), to a much-anticipated wellness festival called ‘The Big Retreat’.

When we bought the tickets last year, we had never imagined we would actually own a campervan by the time the festival came around, so the whole experience felt exciting and symbolic in ways I hadn’t expected.

Quick trips away on our own were few and far between while my boys were growing up. No other reason than the practicalities and childcare support being limited, both geographically and for other, more complex reasons.

So going away now feels lovely, but also alien.

One of the things I’m realising as a mum of a 20 year old and an 18 year old is that I struggle not to be ‘mum’. Recognising myself again after all these years has been, and still is, a challenge.

The Moment It Hit Me

I was having the most amazing time, sitting in the sun listening to live music with nowhere to be.

Then I turned to one side and watched a group of little ones dancing with abandon to the music, running around and being free and joyful in the moment.

And it hit me.

I won’t be a mum of little ones again, watching over them as they play, looking after them and caring for them in that way.

The irony was that the band playing at the time were a genre called ‘misery folk’, because suddenly I couldn’t stop crying.

My ever-tuned-in husband noticed immediately what was making me sad and simply held my hand. What he said next stayed with me.

“You’ll always be a mum. That will never stop. It will just change.”

Parenting in the Dark

The tears have been flowing on and off since then, and I’m letting them.

Because alongside the sadness and nostalgia is also immense pride.

I’m incredibly proud of the boys my children have become and the young adults they continue to grow into. I know the time, energy, and attention I poured into their early years is now reaping dividends.

But if I’m honest, I also know that part of why I’m finding this stage so hard is because I spent so many years parenting in the dark.

I didn’t have a maternal blueprint to guide me. No safe space to land. No mother who could reassure or support me emotionally in the way I needed.

So much of my motherhood journey has been about building my own framework alongside my husband while carrying the fear of getting it wrong.

And when you’ve had to work that hard to create safety, connection, and emotional awareness for your children, letting go can feel incredibly exposing.

Learning to Let Go

I’m realising now that letting go is not about loving our children less.

It’s about allowing the relationship to evolve.

As our children move into adulthood, we have to get comfortable with not knowing. Comfortable with them making choices we may not agree with. Comfortable with them making mistakes.

Because they need to learn on their journey just as we did on ours.

I will always love my boys to the very depths of my being, just as I know you love yours.

And I am also learning that the greatest gift we can give our children now is to continue living our own lives fully, so they can live theirs too.

And that is going to take some practice.

As a parent of two boys, one having flown the nest, and one about to, there is a lot I can say about ‘letting go’. Namely, it’s tough, requires constant navigation and a need to be self aware and reflect on your own feelings and behaviour moment by moment. Just because I have done it once, does not mean it’s seamless second time round. Both my boys are incredibly different in personality and how they navigate their journey’s.

I want to share with you below my learning from my second journey letting go as a parent, and what it really looks like.

• Stepping back with healthcare, watching my boy take himself into his hospital appointment on his own.
• Taking him to his uni offer day and watching him go into the session alone, deciding not to go to the parent session, as it’s his course, his journey.
• Having a couple of nights away and leaving him at home to manage the routines of training and his job.
• Not tracking his every move.
• Building up communication where he eventually responds to messages, and trusting that he will.

And how do I know this is working for us?

• He listened to instructions in his appointment and is managing his own health.
• He asked questions in his uni session, ones he admitted he would not have asked had he known I was there too.
• He’s learning how to manage his time, look after himself, and take responsibility, without me trying not to ask if he’s done everything and getting the predictable eye roll.

He’s stepping away while I’m letting go. Both need to happen without ceremony, without big demonstrations, just quietly allowing them to walk away from us so they can learn to focus on their own needs.

This is the best gift we can give our teens. Despite the fears, the anxieties, and the pull to stay involved, we learn to trust them, even if they make mistakes along the way.

Because if we don’t trust them through our actions, the words saying we do become meaningless. And then how do they learn to trust themselves?

We are learning together, one step at a time.

The growing influence of the manosphere and teenagers is something many parents are beginning to notice, even if they cannot always name it. Online spaces where certain influencers promote rigid ideas about masculinity, power and relationships are reaching young people more easily than ever before.

You may have seen the documentary Into the Manosphere by Louis Theroux, where he explores the world of several social media influencers operating in the UK and the US. What struck me most while watching it was not simply the content itself, but the scale of its reach and the confidence with which it is delivered. These voices are no longer sitting quietly on the fringes of the internet. They are finding their way directly into the daily lives of teenagers, and it’s deeply concerning.

Over the past few years in particular, I have noticed these themes appearing more frequently in conversations with the teenagers and parents I work with. Many young people are encountering content that presents very narrow ideas about gender, success and power. Influencers such as Andrew Tate are often referenced by teenagers themselves when these conversations arise. The content is frequently packaged in a way that feels persuasive, entertaining or even aspirational.

This is why the conversation about the manosphere and teenagers matters.

Why banning phones will not solve the problem

When we look at how social media works, it becomes clear that simply banning phones or restricting access rarely solves the deeper issue. Teenagers are naturally curious. If something feels exciting, controversial or rebellious, it can quickly become even more appealing when adults try to remove it entirely.

‘Instead, the more powerful response often lies in conversation.’

Helping teenagers question what they see online

Teenagers are still developing the ability to question what they see online. When content is presented confidently and repeatedly, it can easily be absorbed without much reflection. But when young people have space to talk about what they are seeing, something important begins to happen.

They start to test ideas, explore perspectives and think more critically about the messages they are receiving.

The impact on both boys and girls

Much of the public conversation focuses on boys when discussing the manosphere. However, it is important to remember that girls are navigating these spaces too. Many are encountering online environments where misogyny is normalised and where their worth is judged primarily through appearance.

These messages shape expectations on both sides. They influence how boys see themselves and how girls come to understand relationships.

Staying part of the conversation

As a parent of teenage boys, I know that these conversations are not always straightforward. They are often met with eye rolls, long pauses or the suggestion that I simply do not understand. But they still matter.

‘Because when teenagers feel able to speak openly, they are more likely to question what they are seeing rather than quietly absorbing it.’

The reality is that online voices will always compete for our teenagers’ attention. We cannot control every message they encounter. What we can do is remain present enough in their lives that the conversations about those messages still find their way back to us.

And perhaps that is where our influence truly sits. Not in trying to shield teenagers from the online world, but in staying connected enough that we remain part of the conversation.

A final thought for parents

For many parents, the influence of the manosphere can feel unsettling. It raises real questions about what our teenagers are absorbing online and how those messages may shape the way they see themselves and others.

But teenagers are not simply passive recipients of everything they encounter. When they have space to question what they see, talk things through and explore different perspectives, they begin to develop their own ability to think critically about the world around them.

That matters, because the conversations our teenagers are hearing today are quietly shaping the relationships they will build tomorrow.

Which means this is not only about protecting young people from harmful ideas online. It is also about helping them develop the awareness and understanding that will shape how they relate to others in the future.

‘In a world where so many voices are competing for their attention, the relationship they have with us still carries weight.’

And sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is simply stay connected enough that the conversations about what they are seeing continue to find their way back to us.

You can read more guidance around parenting teens in a digital age here

When the Hard Words Need Saying

This is not an easy piece to write.

It activates many emotions, guilt, hurt, and rejection, feelings many of us learn to carry quietly. Yet I’ve come to believe that the words we hesitate to say, for fear of judgement, are often the ones that most need to be spoken, even when they may be misunderstood.

Each year, as Mother’s Day approaches, conversations about gratitude and celebration grow louder. Yet beneath them sit many quieter experiences, stories that are rarely spoken but deeply felt. This is a reflection I find myself returning to, because our relationships with motherhood, whether as parents or children, continue to evolve over time.

This year I made a promise to myself: to be more visible. To stop shrinking, hiding, or pretending I am okay when something doesn’t feel true for me.

It isn’t a dramatic shift. It’s simply a continuation of something I’ve been exploring in my writing for some time, how people pleasing pulls us away from ourselves, and how living on the edges of our own lives ultimately serves no one, including those we love most.

I want to share something personal about why Mother’s Day looks different for me now, and how complicated Mother’s Day relationships can shape the way we experience this time of year.

The Expectations We Don’t Always Speak About

For many people, Mother’s Day is joyful and meaningful. But for others navigating complicated Mother’s Day relationships, it can carry unspoken expectations and emotional complexity.  What may have begun with heartfelt intention has, over time, become shaped by tradition, marketing, and performance, a day that can unintentionally measure love through gestures rather than lived relationship.

I say this as a mum of two decades who deeply loves motherhood. Parenting has stretched and humbled me in ways nothing else has, and I love my boys unconditionally. Because of that, I don’t want their love expressed through obligation or expectation on a single day each year.

‘Love reveals itself in everyday moments, not through pressure or performance.’

A Daughter’s Experience

My relationship with Mother’s Day is also shaped by my experience as a daughter.

For many years, I followed what felt expected. I sent the cards, said the words, and played my part, even when those gestures didn’t reflect the reality of my relationship with my own mother. Over time, I realised that continuing to do so felt increasingly disconnected from my truth.

Last year, I chose to step away from that pattern, not as rebellion, but as honesty. Repeating rituals that didn’t align with my lived experience felt like slowly abandoning myself. What might appear small from the outside carried a deep emotional cost within.

Making Space for Different Stories

Mother’s Day now feels poignant in a different way. It highlights how varied and complex mother–child relationships can be, especially for those living within complicated Mother’s Day relationships that rarely fit the traditional narrative.

Not every relationship is simple or nurturing, and recognising that reality can be an important part of individual healing.

If you have a loving and supportive relationship with your mother, that is something truly precious, please celebrate her fully.

But if this day brings mixed feelings, distance, or quiet grief, please know you are not alone. There is space for honesty alongside love, and for boundaries alongside compassion.

Choosing What Feels True

‘Being a parent, or being parented, should not require performance or proof. Love does not become more real because it is publicly displayed, nor less real because it is privately held.’

So this Mother’s Day, I’ll spend the day in my own way: quietly, by the sea, without cards or expectations. Still knowing I am loved as a mum, and that love exists whether or not it is marked by a date on the calendar.

Where This Connects to My Work

My work with teenagers, helps me to learn how sensitive and perceptive they are to the emotional worlds around them. Supporting teens has never only been about changing their behaviour; it has been about helping families understand the unseen patterns shaping connection, communication, and safety.

Increasingly, this means supporting parents to hold compassion and accountability for their own emotional wellbeing, because when we reconnect with ourselves, our children no longer have to carry what was never theirs to hold.

Love Clare x

If you’re new here and this reflection resonated, you can learn more about how I support teenagers and parents here.

Last week my oldest turned 20.

I am finding these “unofficial” milestones more significant than the ones we have inherited as ‘official’, 18 and 21. There is something about 20 that feels different, a phrase I have coined to describe it is ‘parenting emerging adults’. It quietly marks the end of the allocated teenage years, those turbulent times we assign to our children at 13 and decide should end at 19.

This transition often comes with an unspoken expectation of relief. As if once the teenage years are over, the hardest part of parenting is done.

I have long struggled with that narrative.

Questioning the teenage narrative

I do not like the stereotypes, the expectations, or the conditions we place on our adolescents during these years. If you have read my book, Reopening the Slammed Door, you will know that my work centres around helping parents understand how the teenage brain grows and evolves, and why awareness and sensitivity during this time matter far more than following a worn out story about “difficult teens”.

The changes our children go through do not simply switch off at 19. Development does not run on a neat timeline, and neither does emotional maturity.

Are young adults really ready for the world?

I also want to challenge the idea that, as young adults, our children are suddenly ready for the world.

From both personal and professional experience, this expectation can be damaging. Without guidance, being told you should now be independent, capable, and self sufficient can leave a young person feeling overwhelmed, inadequate, or lost. They won’t always recognise this themselves, or be able to put this into words for you to understand.

Parenting does not end at 16, 18, or 20. But it does change.

Parenting emerging adults requires a shift

Parenting emerging adults asks something different of us. We are required to step back and resist the urge to micromanage, to ‘let go’. At the same time, we are invited to stay connected. Complicated? Yep!

Letting go of the “I know best because I am your parent” mentality creates space for something far more powerful. A relationship built on trust, respect, and openness. This is often the moment when relationships can strengthen, if we allow them to.

Age does not equal self understanding

What I have come to recognise, watching this unfold in front of me, is that our children may have a number attached to the years they have been on this earth. That number often suggests a certain level of experience and understanding.

What many of them have not had, particularly those who have navigated a performative school system, is the space to truly understand themselves. To know who they are, and what they need, in order to move forward as independent adults.

The post pandemic impact we are not naming

The post pandemic world is still having an impact, where key foundations of teenage brain development were disrupted by others controlling what they did and where they did it.

That impact is still being felt. Yet very little of it is being acknowledged or supported.

Your role still matters

So my learning, and my message to you, is this. You still have an important role in your emerging adult child’s life.

Not as an instructor, but as a guide. A sounding board. A place they can come to land, to be, and to feel safe.

They still need us, just in a different way. Being conscious of that shift, while also recognising our own needs and emotions, matters too.

And having a 20 year old son means I have been parenting for two decades. That sounds like a lifetime, yet somehow feels like the blink of an eye.

A Year of Change and an Emerging New Chapter

I’ve been running my business for 17 years, and in that time it has grown and evolved alongside me. It has mirrored my journey into motherhood, my children growing into teenagers, and my ongoing work to understand the emotional and developmental needs of young people.

But 2026 holds a new challenge: the possibility that both my boys may be living away from home by the end of the year.

For so many mothers, this transition brings up a mix of pride, longing, and uncertainty. One of my intentions is to allow a gentle untangling of motherhood, to soften my grip while still holding space.

Not always being physically present.
Holding my own emotions whilst being available for my boys.
Offering guidance when asked, but no longer direction or control.

I will always be there for them, but I know the way I show up may need to shift. And that means reclaiming my own identity so they can fully build theirs.

When Drumming Called Me Back to Myself

Amid all of this, the drumming called me.

What started as curiosity quickly became something much deeper. The more time I spent immersed in it, the more I realised how significant it was becoming, not just as a practice, but as a way of reconnecting with parts of myself I hadn’t realised were missing.

Drumming is not about knowing a rhythm or being ‘trained’. It is about the freedom to hold a drum in your hand and trust your instincts. To explore your own rhythm, identity and needs.

And when women come together to drum collectively, something profound happens. Expectations fall away. Pressure dissolves. Even in this dark time of year, when we’re told to hibernate and retreat, drumming offers a way to rest, relax and release.

Introducing Sacred Women’s Drumming Circles

So… drum roll.
No pun intended.

New for 2026: Sacred Women’s Drumming Circles in Marlow, Bucks.

These circles are a safe, supportive space for women who feel drawn to reconnect with themselves, explore something new, and experience the healing rhythm of drumming alongside others.

Each circle begins with time to arrive, settle and simply be. We then drum together — not for performance or perfection, but for expression, energy and reconnection.

You don’t need rhythm.
You don’t need experience.
Just curiosity and a willingness to show up as you are.

What Women Are Already Saying

“What an amazing experience — I honestly felt so much joy, happiness and elation. What a powerful way of expressing yourself.”

“The drumming circle was exactly what I needed, and more than I wanted it to be for raising my vibration!”

These reflections capture a common theme: uplift, freedom, connection, and a return to oneself.

Who the Circles Are For

Women who feel drawn to:

• reconnect with their inner rhythm

• explore their voice, energy and expression

• rebuild confidence from the inside

• experience community without pressure

• land in a nurturing space each month

No skill. No expectations.
Just rhythm, release and reconnection.

If you feel drawn to join a future circle, you can explore upcoming dates and book your place here:
https://clarecogan.as.me/drummingcircle

Exploring the FOG behind Christmas expectations, and what it means for our wellbeing

December arrives with its familiar pull in two opposing directions.

On one hand, nature invites us to slow down, rest, and retreat inwards.
On the other, the festive season arrives with brightness, noise and expectation, the parties, the invitations, the pressure to say yes “because it’s Christmas.”

It’s a time when many people feel caught between longing for stillness and feeling obliged to perform. No wonder so many of us reach the holidays utterly exhausted.

The Weight of Christmas Expectations

Alongside the excitement, December often brings family dilemmas, long-standing traditions and a whole list of “shoulds”. What is meant to be a period of rest can quickly become a rush to get everything right.

The fear of disappointing someone can feel overwhelming. For many, this alone is enough to override their own needs — especially for those who are highly sensitive, relationally attuned, or deeply aware of others’ emotional responses.

This push-pull isn’t random. It often stems from a subtle but powerful dynamic known as FOG.

Understanding FOG: Fear, Obligation and Guilt

I recently came across the acronym FOG, and it resonated deeply with the reality so many people experience at this time of year.

Fear — of backlash, reprisal, or being labelled difficult.
Obligation — the ingrained sense of duty to keep others happy.
Guilt — the belief that saying no equals letting someone down.

FOG explains why we make the decisions we make, especially within families where unspoken rules run deep and the emotional cost of setting a boundary feels too high. It’s a useful lens for understanding why we abandon our own wellbeing in favour of peacekeeping.

What Are We Modelling to Our Children?

This is the question that often grounds me:

What do our children learn when they watch us say yes out of fear, obligation or guilt?

We remind them daily that they are allowed to make their own choices. We encourage them to follow what feels right. We tell them we’re here to guide them, not to dictate.

And yet, they observe us collapsing our boundaries to keep the peace. Even if nothing is said, they can sense the tension in the room.

Children — especially teenagers, and particularly highly sensitive ones — notice the mismatch between our words and actions.

When we act from FOG, we unintentionally model self-betrayal as normal.

Choosing Decisions That Truly Belong to You

This isn’t a call to overhaul your festive plans or to abandon traditions you value. Instead, it’s an invitation to pause and notice.

Are your decisions made by you?
Or by what you believe is expected of you?

The distinction is subtle, but it’s powerful. Learning to recognise it can shift how we show up for ourselves — and how our children learn to show up for themselves in the future.

Honouring What You Need This Festive Season

Before saying yes, take a moment to breathe.
Sit with the invitation, the expectation or the request.
Imagine yourself in that space, with those people.
Your body will give you the information you need.

And here is the reminder many of us need:

Saying no is not selfish.
Honouring what you need is not a failure.
Others’ reactions are theirs to manage, not yours.

When we honour our boundaries, we create room for true harmony — the kind that supports our emotional wellbeing rather than eroding it.