I had been out of school for a couple of months after two years of spotty attendance before I realised that school was traumatic for me. At the time, I was on maybe week five or six of counselling with a new counsellor. I was used to therapy by then; I had been going on and off for about three years by this point, and honestly, I was fed up with it.
The problem was that I couldn’t go to school, and I struggled to understand why. I felt that nothing was changing, and I was starting to accept the “fact” that I was a failure and my life was “going nowhere”. I had grown used to talking about my experiences, followed by the look of disappointment I would get when I would give the same answers to the same questions from different therapists:
“Do you like school?”
“I like learning new things, and I’d like to go to college one day.”
“Do you have friends? Are you being bullied?”
“Yeah, I have friends and I can talk to people in school. No, everyone’s pretty nice to me.”
“Why don’t you try going to school for even just one day this week?”
“I can try, but I don’t think it’ll work. I just can’t do it. School scares me.”
“What do you think would help you?”
“I don’t know.”
And I really just didn’t know. Nothing I tried seemed to help me in school; I couldn’t even see the school or the uniform or the students without terror filling my veins. My life soon became a toxic cycle of trying to go to school, having a panic attack, feeling ashamed until that shame turned into “I refuse to keep living like this, I have to go to school”, and we’d go around again. Try, panic, shame, try, panic, shame until I crashed, and yet I’d start it all again.
So here I was, sitting with yet another counsellor, awaiting the same questions, the same disappointed look after telling her about school, when instead she said something I had never heard before.
“That must’ve been so traumatic for you.”
I had heard about trauma before. I was always interested in psychology and mental health, so I knew about trauma in passing, but I had always associated it with situations that were far different to mine. I had never heard anyone talk about trauma relating to emotional experiences before. To me, trauma was for soldiers, not for sixteen-year-old girls who were too scared to go to school.
I remember sitting there and looking at her as the words set in.
“That must’ve been so traumatic for you.”
I mean, it made sense; it explained things that I didn’t understand about myself. It explained the nightmares I would have of school and the feeling of absolute terror whenever school was mentioned. It explained why I wasn’t able to see the school or anything even remotely associated with the school without having a panic attack. It explained why I felt crazy when I would randomly smell the school even when I was miles away and why that phantom smell would send me spiralling for days.
Being seen and validated
And so I sat with my counsellor, the words sitting in my chest, and for the first time in years, I felt truly seen. I didn’t feel like I was being dramatic or overreacting anymore. After all this time, my feelings had finally been validated with just one word.
What I experienced was traumatic.
School, while being neurodivergent, was scary. Being in a space where my support needs were not being met was painful. My requests for support were often met with disapproval and brushed off, since I was high-functioning and my autism never directly affected my learning.
I felt that my experience was treated as one of social anxiety, while my disability was disregarded, and it made me feel that by simply existing, I was being inconvenient to those around me. I was a child who felt unsafe in a space where I was expected to spend the majority of my time, and the adults who were meant to keep me safe, I felt I couldn’t trust. Looking back, I’m proud of myself for surviving that.
Everything felt just a tad bit lighter. This counsellor actually saw me. Here was an adult who was validating me, and for the first time in a long time, I started to feel like I could trust an adult to support and understand me. She gave me the space to unlock the final piece in understanding myself. I sat across from her and for the first time, I said it aloud,
“Yes, school was traumatic for me.”
Editor’s note: This story shares experiences of sudden illness, time in hospital, surgery, and a tumour diagnosis. Please take care while reading if these topics are sensitive for you.
Last summer, I signed up for the Irish Life half-marathon set to take place in September of this year. It was the end of June, and I hadn’t had a chance to run in a while due to family issues: my grandmother was very ill for two weeks and then passed, and I was taking time off from my part-time job. I had also been sent the invitation for my first driving test, which I felt anxious about, but I did book.
So it was time to get back to running. I had left my house and run to the crossroads at the end of the road when I felt something was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t stop coughing as it felt like I was choking on something.
I hadn’t had a cold, and I sensed something was wrong, so I put my hand over my mouth, and a handful of blood was coming out. Looking back, I think my reaction was a bit silly. I was more embarrassed about the neighbours seeing me cough up blood than I was concerned for myself.
Subsequently, my family called an ambulance for me. I spent 21 hours in A&E as they found something in my blood test. They then did a CT scan, which found a nodule with a cavity in my top left lung. It took over four hours to get my bloods taken. When I finally asked when they would take them, they realised I hadn’t been properly registered.
The funny thing is, I had experienced no symptoms of illness other than the blood. So they brought me to a separate room to tell me they were gonna admit me, and the on-call doctor came in full personal protective equipment (PPE) – this made me worried I was infectious.
I was overwhelmed and couldn’t stop crying. I was tired, and my mum and my dad were also with me, exhausted and unable to sleep with the beeping lights, the noise, and the upright chairs.
I was struck by the idea that you could be sick without realising initially, and how quickly a scenario could change. They had told me I had to get a biopsy done, which would take a week to get done. As a person who has never been to hospital before, I was confused by everything.
The first day, the consultant assigned to me hadn’t arrived, and whenever I’d ask, I would be told sometime this afternoon or in a few more hours, yet I was still waiting. In fairness, the nurses were lovely and kind, which did help ease my nerves.
Everything hit me, however, after the first biopsy. It was around 9 or 10 o’clock. I had been sitting in my bed, and the nurse attempted to give me antibiotics for my fever through my cannula in my arm, which was really sore.
I told her it hurt, but I don’t think she realised to what degree. My arm started to swell up, and the antibiotics were leaking out. After she had left, I fully broke down. I couldn’t stop crying and hyperventilating. I was told throughout my first time in hospital that they had to rule out lung cancer, even though it would be unlikely. This only escalated my stress. My dad had come into hospital every day, even when I said not to, as it was making me stressed at times.
I had gotten two biopsies in the end, as they couldn’t reach the nodule in my lung the first time. I had also changed rooms four times within two weeks, and as someone without private health insurance, this meant I was in rooms of six people.
Once I was released, I had two weeks left to practice for my driving test, which I ultimately failed. I had my 21st birthday, which many of my friends couldn’t attend as they were abroad, at a wedding or had family commitments.
When I was practising for the test, I was yelled at by someone blocking traffic on the road. She was yelling at me: “Who do I think I am?” and standing in front of the car. I had to cancel a concert, a trip to Edinburgh and not work for a few weeks. I grew separated from some friends, and my self-esteem was quite low.
My grandad also started to get quite confused and was admitted to hospital. This was an added source of stress for my family.
Once, the doctors had tested the sample from the biopsy, two or three weeks after I was called back in. I was diagnosed with a haematoma, which is minor and described as an abnormal collection of blood, but usually goes away by itself.
My original consultant was also an oncologist, so my consultant was changed to a cardiothoracic surgeon. He recommended I do the lung resection as my haematoma had a cavity, which posed other health risks.
I had decided to do the surgery. It had required me to stay in hospital for at least three days. Due to my previous experience at the hospital, I was also aware of the fact that if I didn’t know something, it would be my responsibility to check. For example, I wasn’t aware of how many people would be present in the room surrounding me. From my recollection, they said the surgery was three hours long.
Once the surgery had finished, I was admitted to the Acute Care Unit (ACU). I couldn’t really move much because of the pain. I had monitors on my chest, a nerve blocker tube going into my back to block pain, a chest tube going into my ribs to collect fluid, and I was on medications such as oxynorm and pregabalin.
They had removed the nodule and some of the surrounding area to lessen the chance of recurrence, which meant they took 4 per cent of my lungs away. I had four incisions across my left side and a hole for the tube.
After I was admitted, I couldn’t bend down or twist my back. Sleeping flat on the bed hurt, and I felt out of breath. So I had to prop my pillows up. I did limited activities for the next two weeks, mainly staying at home. I had presumed that during the meeting with the surgeon, they would just say the surgery went well and you’ll be grand from now on. They had informed me that the surgery was successful; however, it was not a haematoma after all.
I had an Inflammatory Myoblastic Tumour, which is a rare type of tumour, 1 in 1 million. It is categorised as borderline cancerous, and so it turned out that the option surgery wasn’t an option, as it would have impacted my lung capacities.
This had taken me by surprise, as it had been treated as a minor condition for the last few weeks. It also turns out that it returns, so I’ll have to get CT scans done every few months. However, I was lucky that the tumour was quite small and that it had been caught and removed.
A week after the new diagnosis, I had to start my internship, which I am currently enjoying. I am now able to go out more and hang out with friends, as well as go back to my part-time job on the weekends.
Last summer didn’t go the way I had initially hoped. It was difficult, isolating, and full of unexpected turns. But I’ve learned that healing isn’t just physical, it’s emotional too.
I’ve learned to advocate for myself, to ask questions, and to be patient with the process. I’m still recovering, but I’m proud of myself for getting through last summer relatively okay.
Social media has impacted millions of people’s lives, and it shapes how we interact with each other daily . Like most things, social media presents advantages and disadvantages when using it. it is rare to meet a young person who does not have an online presence.
However, in recent years, many people have turned to the offline lifestyle as they feel social media is negatively impacting their lives. In this article, I share my own experience of growing up with social media and how the COVID-19 pandemic shaped my relationship with it.
Before I had access to social media, I used to call to my friends and ask if they were around. I remember playing games like tip-the-can and knick-knock on my street, although it did annoy a lot of our neighbours, we spent a great deal of time outdoors. I recall summer nights where my friends and I would meet and cycle to our other friends’ houses that lived on the other side of my village.
Looking back, this was a time when connection felt simple and mostly offline. I believe that my generation is probably the last generation to do this anymore, as children are given access to devices to contact their friends.
My first experience with social media was when I received my first ‘proper’ touchscreen phone as a gift from my parents. At this point, I was around thirteen years old when I properly started my digital journey.
I recall downloading Snapchat and Instagram, which were the most popular apps among my friends at the time. I also remember my parents warning me of privacy and safety, especially as I was a young person online. At that age, I understood the warnings, but I did not fully understand the long-term impact of being constantly online.
I joined social media since most of my friends were active on it. It became the main way I stayed in contact with friends outside of school. I liked staying updated with friends and family. I also felt as though if I didn’t have social media, I would miss out on plans, jokes and shared moments.
There is no doubt that our experiences during COVID-19 shaped the way we engage with online spaces. I remember the day when my teacher told us that we were going into lockdown.
I was in fifth year, and I felt uncertain and anxious. We were due to sit the Leaving Certificate the following year, which added to that worry. Social media became one of the few places where that anxiety was shared and understood.
Social media exploded the day that the lockdown was announced. Many people used it to share information, fears and reactions in real-time. At the same time, it became a space for connection when physical contact was not possible.
During the pandemic, TikTok became especially popular. I downloaded it during this time, expecting it to be like Vine or Musical.ly.
I ended up spending a large amount of my time on TikTok, and gained a sizeable following within a niche community. That sense of belonging mattered to me at a time when everyday social life had disappeared.
I even connected with someone on TikTok who is now one of my closest friends. However, I also began to feel pressure. I constantly checked my phone for notifications and monitored engagement on my posts. This led to long periods of time spent online without real breaks.
Before the Leaving Certificate, I decided to make my account private and delete the app entirely.
Although I enjoyed being a part of an online community, I found it increasingly difficult to switch off and stay present. I realised that constantly monitoring my account and doomscrolling for hours was not good for my well-being. People often say not to compare yourself with others online, but I found this much harder in practice than in theory.
Since deleting TikTok, I have not re-downloaded it or felt the urge to return. However, I began to notice similar patterns with other platforms like Instagram and YouTube. Both of these platforms have introduced the short video feature with infinity scrolling, almost mirroring TikTok. Features such as Reels and YouTube Shorts now use endless scrolling and targeted algorithms that make disengaging difficult. Even when I tried to step back, these features pulled my attention in familiar ways.
In the years since the pandemic, I have become more aware of how social media affects me. I have learned to step back when it feels overwhelming and to prioritise time with friends and family offline.
During exam seasons, I often deactivate my Instagram account, allowing me to focus more on my studies. Many of my friends do the same. Recently, I have installed an app that limits scrolling when I feel bored, which has also helped me stay productive. I also keep notifications turned off for most apps. These are small changes, but they help me feel more in control of my time and attention.
Recently, more people have chosen to reduce or remove their online presence. In the context of AI-generated content and misinformation, this reaction is understandable.
However, I believe that media literacy is just as important as disengagement. Learning how to think critically about online content allows people to stay connected while protecting their well-being.
Discussions about introducing a social media ban for under-16s in Ireland feel especially relevant to me. I joined social media at thirteen, and while I gained connections and community, I also experienced pressure, comparison, and difficulty switching off.
Looking back, I can see how vulnerable I was at that age, particularly during COVID-19. Any policy response should consider both the benefits young people gain from online spaces and the risks they may not yet have the tools to manage. My experience shows why stronger protections, clearer boundaries, and better digital education matter for young users.
Overall, I think that social media platforms need to be better regulated to ensure user safety and privacy.
Social media offers many benefits, including communication, community, and professional networking. However, it is equally important that people can step away when it becomes overwhelming.
While it can sound obvious, not everything online reflects real life. Social media is not disappearing, so the focus should be on helping young people learn how to engage with it safely, critically, and on their own terms.
Editor’s note: This article includes a discussion of suicidal ideation and mental health struggles. Please take care if you choose to read on. Our text support service details are listed below.
Before I joined the Carline Learning Centre in Lucan, which is now known as the Peter McVerry Trust Learning Centre, I was slowly giving up on education and on life. School felt pointless. I was failing every test, getting F’s no matter how hard I tried. Some teachers told me I wouldn’t get anywhere in life, and after hearing that often enough, I started to believe them.
My mental health suffered badly. Every day felt heavier than the last. I reached a point where I had planned the day I would end my life.
Coming from a strict Nigerian household added another layer of pressure. I didn’t fit the expectations my parents or community had for me. I felt like a constant disappointment and a source of gossip. I carried the belief that I brought shame to my family, and that followed me everywhere.
Being referred to the Peter McVerry Trust Learning Centre gave me an alternative path when I had almost no hope left. The environment was different from that of a mainstream school. It was slower-paced, supportive, and human. People genuinely wanted to see you succeed.
For the first time, I felt seen. I felt wanted. I wasn’t treated like an outcast or a lost cause. That support helped me start believing that maybe education didn’t have to look the same for everyone.
Being Black in Ireland comes with challenges that aren’t always spoken about. Representation matters more than people realise. I didn’t see many people who looked like me in education or in technology, and that made it hard to open up or feel like I belonged.
I didn’t feel safe telling the full truth about what I was going through. In many ways, I still struggle with that. Now, I try to be visible so that someone else can look at me and say, “She looks like me. Maybe I can do this too.”
When I returned to mainstream school, one teacher made a huge difference. Michael Griffin, my coding teacher, helped me apply for the Microsoft More Women in Data Centres programme and supported me in earning my certificate.
He saw potential in me when I couldn’t see it myself. His belief stayed with me and became a turning point. That was my first real step into STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Mathematics), and it showed me that technology could be a space for me too.
I failed my Leaving Cert, and at that point, I already felt like a failure. I disliked school, disliked many of my teachers, and honestly disliked my life. In my head, everything was already over, so I couldn’t understand why I should even try anymore.
But failing exams doesn’t mean failing at life, even though it can feel that way when you’re living through it.
Instead of giving up completely, I tried a different route. I completed two PLC courses: Computer Applications and Game Design, and Computing and Mobile Technology.
I enjoyed both and learned practical, hands-on skills that suited me far better than traditional school. PLCs helped rebuild my confidence and showed me that learning doesn’t have to be one-size-fits-all.
Through the Peter McVerry Trust, I was suggested ‘FIT’ (Fast Track Into Tech) as another option. An apprenticeship was a completely new concept to my parents, and at first, they didn’t support it. From their point of view, college was the only valid path.
FIT supported me with my CV, interview preparation, and confidence. For the first time, I felt like I had direction and purpose. I applied, interviewed, and was offered a role as an IT Infrastructure Engineer apprentice at Salesforce.
I’ve now been an apprentice for 11 months, and it’s been an incredible journey. I’ve grown in ways I never expected, not just professionally but personally. Working in STEM has shown me what I’m capable of and helped me build a future that once felt impossible.
This path proved that alternative third-level education can be just as valid, meaningful, and successful as the traditional college route.
I wish more young people knew that there are multiple paths to success. You don’t have to follow the traditional route to do well in life. Growing up in Lucan, I didn’t feel there were enough resources or information to show young people that apprenticeships, PLCs, and alternative education paths were real options.
Too often, young people are shamed for failing. Social media adds even more pressure by making it look like everyone else your age is succeeding. That kind of comparison can seriously affect your mental health, and it shouldn’t be the standard we measure ourselves by.
One of the proudest moments of my life has been gaining my parents’ support. Once I explained my path and showed them what an apprenticeship could offer, they put their faith in me. Now they are proud of the choices I’ve made.
That support brings me an immense amount of joy. I always believed it could be done. I just didn’t know how.
Through my journey, I’ve learned this: you are not defined by what teachers, grades, or other people say about you. You are defined by what you choose to become.
This is the quote I live by now:
Your “good enough” is not everybody’s “good enough.”
If you try to be everybody’s good enough, you will never be good enough.
Voice Notes: from the Group Chat is a space where young people from ethnic minorities in Ireland sit down and say the things we usually only talk about when the mics are not present.
We’re chatting about the stuff that actually affects us: trying to get help for our mental health, dealing with racism in healthcare, and figuring out dating when you’re carrying a lot. It’s not an interview, and it’s definitely not a panel. It’s just honest chats with people who get it.
And at the end of each episode, there’s one final twist: a sealed envelope with a question someone’s never asked out loud. We open it, read it, and see where it takes us.
These are the chats that happen when no one’s watching. Until now.
Voice Notes: From the Group Chat, featuring members of spunout’s BAME Action Panel: Aisha, Angela, Angie, Colleen, Ebere, and Ia.
The series launched in the lead-up to International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination on 21 March, highlighting the importance of creating platforms where young people from ethnic minorities can speak about their experiences directly.
In episode 1, we focus on mental health. We discuss the cost of therapy, waiting lists for public services, stigma within communities and the impact of racism on wellbeing. We also outline what mental health support could look like if it were designed by young people themselves, including calls for affordable, accessible and culturally informed services.
Listen and save episode 1 to your library on Spotify.
An AI chatbot is a computer programme designed to talk to you like a person would. Some chatbots are very basic and only give certain replies. However, newer, more advanced chatbots like ChatGPT, Claude and Gemini use artificial intelligence to try to understand what you are saying and give more natural responses. More recently, some people have turned to AI Chatbots to access information and support for their mental health. If you are considering using an AI chatbot, here are somethings you might want to think about beforehand.
People choose to use AI chatbots for many reasons. Here are some of the most common ones:
AI chatbots can sometimes sound really confident in their responses, but they can still be wrong or say things that are not appropriate.
While using AI chatbots to support your mental health can be appealing, these tools come with limitations. Here are some things to consider before using these tools:
Some AI chatbot services may store or review your conversations to improve how they work or for safety monitoring. When it comes to your personal information, this can mean sensitive mental-health topics or any private topics you discuss with AI chatbots may not be fully private.
AI Chatbots take information from all different sources across the internet and not all of these sources are trustworthy or reliable. The responses they give can be misleading or they might not understand the topics you decide to share, especially when it comes to your mental health.
AI chatbots can’t hear the tone of your voice or see your body language. They can miss important emotional cues and won’t know if you are unsafe or need immediate help. They also can’t contact emergency services or connect you with a real person.
A lot of AI chatbots are designed to agree with you and can mirror your language. This means they can repeat or validate any negative thoughts you might share, and it can be harmful. They often cannot give you real support that a mental health professional is trained to provide you with.
AI chatbots can respond with language that seems warm and caring, but these tools cannot feel empathy or understand the human experience. An interaction with a chatbot is not an effective replacement for a connection with a real person.
It takes courage to reach out and take the first step on your mental health recovery journey. No matter what you’re experiencing, you deserve the best support possible. Here are some alternative mental health supports available to you.
If you are looking for information and support for your mental health, there are trusted resources out there that are reliable and accurate. Websites like spunout.ie and yourmentalhealth.ie are great places to start. spunout content is checked by subject matter experts and reviewed by real young people to make sure it’s accurate, up to date and relevant.
Sometimes, mental health issues can be eased by getting support from the people in your life or making changes in your life to support your wellbeing. Other times, mental health issues can become more complex, long-lasting, and difficult to deal with. When this is the case, getting support from someone who is trained in delivering evidence-based mental health treatments can support you in your recovery journey.
There is a wide range of mental health supports available in Ireland, but it can be difficult to know how to access them and which type of support is best suited to your needs. Everyone is unique, so people will have different routes through the healthcare system. This article on how to get mental health support in Ireland can help you understand your support options.
If you want to talk to someone immediately and anonymously, Text About It is a free, confidential 24/7 text messaging service in Ireland where trained volunteers are available to listen and support you when you need it most.
If you are in crisis, an AI chatbot isn’t the best support for you. This article explains what you can do if you’re having thoughts of suicide. If you are in a self harm or suicide emergency, call 999 or 112, or go to your local A&E, as soon as possible.
The internet plays an important role in our lives. Many of us turn to the internet for information and support around challenging topics that impact our mental health, like suicide, self-harm, and eating disorders. When used safely, the internet can be a powerful tool for learning and recovery, but some online content relating to sensitive mental health topics can be harmful.
Safer Conversations Online is a free, self-directed e-learning course that helps you to keep yourself and other people safe when discussing suicide, self-harm or eating disorders in online spaces.
Through the course, you will learn how to safely engage with online content relating to sensitive mental health topics, how to respond to misinformation online, and what you can do if someone shares something concerning on social media. You’ll get practical advice for protecting yourself and others when sharing your lived experience online.
Safer Conversations Online was developed with support from the HSE. It contains explainer videos, real young people sharing their opinions and experiences, and accurate information grounded in research. It’s divided into bite-sized parts, so you can move through it at your own pace.
Safer Conversations Online is available for free through the spunout academy; a free online learning space for building knowledge and skills that support your mental health and emotional wellbeing.
The academy contains a collection of interactive learning courses designed to build knowledge, understanding, and skills that help you cope with a range of social, environmental and personal issues that can impact your mental health. These courses use a mix of compact explainers, engaging videos, and interactive activities to help you develop real-world skills you can apply in your everyday life.
Academy courses are designed in bite-sized building blocks so you can pick them up, put them down, and learn at your own pace. Each course has been developed with the help of experts, so you know what you’re learning is accurate and up-to-date. The academy also works with real young people to make sure every programme is interesting, easy to use and relevant to young people’s lives.
Anxiety, stress and isolation are the top concerns for young people using spunout’s Text About It service, according to new data released today (05.02.26). The data also showed an increasing demand for the service with a 9.4% increase in conversations in 2025 compared to the previous year.
Text About It is a free, anonymous, 24/7 messaging service providing everything from a calming chat to immediate support for mental health and emotional wellbeing. Of the 52,748 conversations which took place through the service in 2025, the top five biggest issues on young people’s minds were anxiety, stress, isolation, intimate relationships and school.
This year also saw spunout launch the Navigator mental health signposting tool, which has been used by young people for more than 38,000 sessions since June 2025. Navigator is a web-based, mobile first service providing anonymous, immediate and personalised access to mental health information, and signposts young people to relevant local and national services for ongoing support.
Additionally, young people can access a huge range of factual and trustworthy information through spunout’s website. In 2025 alone, over 908,000 people used the spunout website, with the most popular content focusing on mental health, ADHD, finance, the CAO, employment, and young people’s rights and the Gardaí.
The majority of young people are using spunout’s services when regular support is unavailable, with Sunday nights being the peak time for conversations on Text About It. The festive season also proves to be an especially stressful time, with December the busiest month for conversations.
Sinead Keane, CEO at spunout, said: “It’s clear from the increasing number of people using Text About It and Navigator that young people in Ireland are experiencing a mental health crisis. While it’s positive that young people feel able to reach out for support when they need it, it’s worrying that so many are experiencing feelings of anxiety, stress and isolation.
“There is a real need for continued mental health promotion and education so that young people know how to access reliable information and the right support at the right time. Through our website and Navigator tool, spunout provides trusted resources to help young people understand their mental health and connect with appropriate services.
“Text About It also plays a vital role in supporting young people’s mental health, particularly outside of regular hours. This support is made possible by our trained volunteers, who are always supervised and supported by spunout staff. As demand for the service continues to grow, we encourage anyone interested in volunteering with Text About It to register their interest through the spunout website.”
The horrific events in Palestine are nothing less than a genocide, and what the world is now witnessing is a man-made famine. At our fingertips are broadcasts of children starving whilst food surrounds the Gaza Strip, reports of the number of lives lost and videos of the rubble left in the aftermath of destructive bombs.
The Israeli-Palestine conflict has become so horrific to witness that it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by how saddening the violence is, and I’m noticing people finding it easier to disengage than step up.
However, I want to shine a spotlight on the many ways people in Ireland are supporting Palestine. In taking action, being in community and standing in solidarity, we can reveal a sense of hope. Beyond that, the very nature of this violence being so terrible that we wince and want to look away, is the same reason we have to continue to come together and take action.
As Irish people, whose land was colonised in the past and whose people starved in The Great Famine, surely we have an even greater calling to show generosity and loyalty to Palestine.
Beyond that, it’s our obligation as part of humanity.
Firstly, it’s so important that in our conversations about Palestine, we try to humanise the issue. News reports and death tolls are very informative and play a role in keeping up-to-date, but in the shadow of their enormous numbers, we can lose sight of the individual people the world is losing. I have been attempting to focus on the stories of the lives being lost and those being impacted in Gaza.
News footage is clearly showing us the suffering and deaths of people. These people are mothers, fathers, children, friends, aunts, nephews and so on. We have to stop letting the many deaths become one whole because when we do, we minimise both the scale of this destruction and forget the many hearts lost.
A story that I keep coming back to is this one. Blinne Ní Ghrálaigh is a Barrister with expertise in human rights, crime and international law. She also spoke as part of the Palestinian delegation at the ICC in their case against Israel. I was fortunate to hear her speak first-hand at the UCC Law Society’s Women In Law Forum earlier this year.
I was moved by a story she told about a medical board in Gaza that was full to the brim of upcoming procedures alongside the names of the patients who desperately needed to be seen. The board was wiped clean of the surgeries that could no longer go ahead, and a Doctor wrote on it: “Whoever stays, until the end, will tell the story. We did what we could- remember us”.
She then showed a photo of that same whiteboard after an Israeli strike on the hospital on the 21st of November. The attack had destroyed the whiteboard, barely leaving it legible and had killed the author of the message along with two of his colleagues.
Ní Ghrálaigh had also told this story to the International Court of Justice, calling for “an end to the decimation of Gaza and it’s people”. Her parting words to us as young women and to anyone trying to fight for what’s right were: “Unless you have tried everything, you have not earned the right to despair.”
We have not yet earned the right to despair.
I’m aware of how heavy conversations like these are, so I’d also like to highlight all the ways people in Ireland are already taking action to support those in Palestine to hopefully inspire you to get involved in helping and supporting Gaza too.
For example, profits from coffees being donated to Palestine, weekly protests across the island, music gigs in aid of food for Gaza, library books being displayed that educate people on the conflict in local bookshops and many more actions in our localities. Taking stands like this is so vital because action is the root from which hope blossoms.
Marion is the public relations officer (PRO) for Cork Palestine Solidarity Campaign and is also the Secretary for Fermoy Stands with Palestine. Even though she herself is a self-proclaimed Limerick woman, she has been incredibly taken with the commitment to taking action for Palestine in Cork County.
“I think Cork is phenomenal, there’s nearly 20 groups around the county from Mitchelstown down to Kinsale and from Youghal all the way across to Beara and Skibbereen.’ She continued, ‘It’s phenomenal. There are nearly 20 groups that have weekly activities around Cork, quite literally flying the flag for Palestine,” she said.
Hearing about the sheer dedication of people getting together and organising made me feel proud of our communities, but I also felt touched with hope to hear of so many people working towards a brighter future for others.
Describing with passion the vibrancy and energy of these actions, Marion said: “Cork is known as the ****rebel county and that’s not for no reason- social justice is very strong here.
“But”, she concluded, “this is not just down South, every nook and cranny of the country you go to, you have people doing stuff for Palestine!”
Erin O’Riordan graduated Law in UCC with a 1st Class Honours and is beginning her Master’s degree in International Human Rights Law this September. She is also an incredible advocate and volunteer in the areas of gender equality, slow fashion, climate justice and human rights.
Having been involved in activism, she said that she does empathise with and understand the overwhelm that people might be feeling. However, she explained, “for me it’s trying to do whatever little thing I can”. For example, for Kinsale Art’s Weekend, there was a wall where you could paint anything you wanted, and Erin chose to paint the peace sign and the Palestinian flag. Likewise, it could be having those constant reminders, such as wearing a keffiyeh whenever she can.
She emphasised that “trying to keep hope front and centre is really important for me because without hope, you can’t really carry on long-term”. Erin has also spoken to those in Palestine and wanted to say- they have been seeing the support that has been coming out of Ireland. This is her reminder that “they see us, they hear us, and they appreciate that- it gives them hope, which is important as well”.
She also said she tries to recall the power of collective action when she feels overwhelmed. A key example from our own Irish history is the Dunnes Stores Apartheid Strike from July 1984 to April 1987, when 11 workers refused to handle South African goods because of the way their government treated people of colour. In the end, they successfully forced the Irish government to ban the importation of South African goods.
The strikers were not supported during their action, and it took years for change to be achieved, and Erin noted that, whilst you’re fighting for what’s right, it can be demoralising! It can, of course, be hard to keep going, but she urges us to “look at history, look at what history has gotten us in the past and continue campaigning for this genocide to end”.
She also recognised that often young people are belittled or pushed aside for being seen as too aspirational. However, that ability to dream of a better world, to envision fairness and to strive for positive change is actually our strength!
As Erin summarised, “It is that naive idealism and the protests that come out of that naivety that lead to real change. If we all just accepted that things are the way they are, we wouldn’t have any of the rights that we do have today!”
Mike Shinnik is the owner of Towncoffee Company, an excellent coffee shop located in my hometown, Mitchelstown. He told me, “I live by the ideal that I’m better than nobody else and nobody is better,” and so “wiping out a culture just should not be stood for. Worldwide history has shown us that Neoliberalism and Capitalism has stood all over lesser nations to inadvertently lead to a climate crisis and putting these together is critical in our time. We must stand for unity and equality to create the world we all want, and as a business, we feel a deep yearning to display that at any chance.”
And in the spirit of meaningfully displaying just that, Towncoffee Company signed up for Coffee for Palestine like many other businesses across Ireland. Cafés committed to raising funds for the children of Palestine by pledging 10 coffees a day for 7 days from June 23rd to the 29th.
I asked Mike why he joined the initiative and he noted that there were many reasons but the main one was most truthful, startling and profound, “it’s the moments at home when I was safe with my family, and I couldn’t help but look at my kids and think if they were to lose us in a war- the trauma that would leave on their lives. The ability to cope in a crumbling city and country would have harrowing implications for adults, not to mention children. So to help kids like this was a huge part, and obviously all people of Palestine”.
This year, €113,758 was raised by Coffee for Palestine, and an incredible 278 businesses in Ireland signed up! Finally, Mike also said he took part because, “I’m also extremely keen on history, so Ireland’s solidarity with Palestine is over 100 years old and we’ve been on a similar receiving end of an oppressive power that isn’t as far back as we’d like to think.”
I found it extremely interesting to hear about a local business owner and father’s perspective on and connection to the conflict in Palestine, and was very inspired by the actions of all the cáfes that raised money for the cause. “Naturally,” as Mike concluded, “a chance to share that solidarity & be a tiny part of that history is huge.
”Other examples of people doing astonishing and creative things in the name of helping those overseas are free music gigs being organised to bring people together and raise money, as well as craft clubs in different localities, knitting, crocheting and making pieces to be sold for donations.
Protest marches are keeping the voices of those in Palestine echoing through the streets and bouncing off the window panes in cities and towns in Ireland. Blasta Books put together a wonderful collection of recipes from Cafe Izz in Cork to serve as a celebration of Palestinian food and heritage and to share the owner’s deep connection to their homeland.
This collection reflects the consistent call for peace and connection through food by the Cork-based Palestinian restaurant, Cafe Izz- echoed by the message painted beside the café, ‘Make Hummus not War’.
Artwork and murals are being created to raise awareness, and pro-Palestine books can be found for your next read in many bookshops and libraries as tools for education.
A Sean Nos group in Dublin are learning not only Irish songs but also moving, powerful tunes in our native language, as Ghaeilge, about the atrocities in Palestine and to stand in solidarity, performed them recently at The Cobblestone Pub. Then, of course, the use of media and writing is a hugely impactful way of keeping the attention of Irish people on Gaza.
When I see the destruction and horror that is the reality in Palestine, instead of growing sad, weary and powerless, I think of all the ways our people are trying to make a difference and raise up their voices for Palestine.
Then I am filled with a sense of anger and unease, a sense that we must catapult into means to come together and take action. There is so much more we can do to stand with Palestine, I hope this article and these examples give you the hope and courage to help and take action also.
As my parting words, may I remind you of those hopeful, haunting words from Blinne Ní Ghrálaigh, and I pray they linger in your minds as they have in mine, “Unless you have tried everything, you have not earned the right to despair.”
You can hear more from young Palestinians living in Ireland on our podcast A Lot on Your Plate. Through food, culture and personal stories, it shares honest insights into identity, resilience and belonging.
Going through the ending of a friendship can bring up all sorts of powerful emotions, from relief to anger and sadness. If you’re currently dealing with a “friendship break-up,” know that you’re not alone.
Friendship break-ups are more common than they might seem, especially as people grow, move, and change. Differences in values, interests, emotional needs, or life direction can all contribute to friendships drifting or ending, even without anyone doing anything “wrong.”
This article offers clear, strategies to help you cope with the end of a friendship. It explores common questions, including:
Why do friendships end?
Is it normal to grieve after a friendship breakup?
How can I manage difficult emotions after a friendship break-up?
What are some practical strategies for moving on?
As simple as this question might sound initially, it can be difficult to describe the qualities of a good friendship. Sometimes, knowing these can help when we are grieving or experiencing the loss of a friendship that might not have met our emotional needs. While people can seek different things from their friendships, most of us generally look for and benefit from friendships that are:
Some friendships don’t end in a clear or dramatic way; the connection simply fades over time. This tends to happen more frequently during early adulthood, when you might be meeting lots of people through things like work, college, and travelling to new places.
These gradual endings often happen without conflict or a conscious decision to part ways. Instead, the connection tends to weaken over time because neither person is investing much energy into maintaining it. It can be difficult to retain all of these new connections or friendships across your life, especially when you finish school or college, or move to a new area or country.
You might not have thought of these particular endings as friendship break-ups. That’s because they often happen quietly, with a degree of mutuality, and without much distress.
Reasons for growing apart
Often, it’s not about a lack of care; other things just get in the way. Life circumstances, shifting priorities, or changes in emotional availability can all affect someone’s ability to stay connected. Over time, those differences can lead to distance, even without any bad feelings.
Factors that may contribute to the gradual ending of a friendship include:
It can be helpful to remember that sometimes, friendships that end naturally without difficult or hurt feelings can be picked up again later in life. You might find yourself working alongside an old friend, or moving back to the same neighbourhood as someone you used to know and hang out with. Growing apart can lead to the loss of a connection, but it can also lead to reconnection at another point.
In some cases, external factors play less of a role, and one or both people deliberately take steps to end the friendship because of difficulties within the relationship itself. Although research shows that confrontation is relatively uncommon, most people tend to end friendships through more indirect strategies, such as:
Different kinds of difficulties can lead someone to choose confronting, distancing, compartmentalising, or avoiding ways to end a friendship.
Friendship difficulties that might motivate someone to end a friendship include:
Our culture often associates grief with bereavement or the loss of a loved one. However, there are many other equally valid forms of loss which do not involve death and can cause grief. Grieving non-death losses, like the loss of a friend, can feel isolating because there are a lack of formal rituals and support groups to mark these kinds of endings. In many cases, a lack of recognition of your loss and the grief arising from it can make it difficult to access appropriate emotional or social support.
The grief resulting from losses like the endings of friendships, which are not recognised or acknowledged by society, is known as disenfranchised grief.
People may experience the sense of loss more or less strongly depending on other factors you might not immediately consider, like the number and quality of close relationships they have. While losing a close friend is always hard, your grief might feel more intense if you have fewer meaningful connections to turn to for support and connection.
Feeling socially isolated, lonely, or struggling with low self-esteem can also make the emotional impact of this kind of loss feel even heavier.
Feeling sad, angry, numb, confused, or even experiencing a strong longing for the friend you’ve lost are all common signs of disenfranchised grief following a friendship break-up.
If the friendship ended because of difficulties between you, your experience of grief and the way you cope may vary depending on whether you were the one to initiate the break-up. Alongside sadness, you might also feel other emotions, like guilt, relief, or frustration, that can make processing your grief challenging.
If you were the one to end the friendship, you are probably able to identify why, and that clarity can help you make sense of the grief you might be experiencing. Even when a friendship ends for good reasons, it is common to experience mixed emotions. Many people feel both a sense of relief and a sense of loss after stepping away from a friendship that was no longer working.
You might feel empowered by making a choice that protects your emotional wellbeing, especially if you’d felt distressed by unresolved challenges or if the other person’s core values felt incompatible with yours. But it is also natural to grieve the parts of the friendship that you might have valued. Even someone who hurt you may have had qualities that drew you to them in the first place, and those positive traits may still exist alongside the ones that caused harm.
Try to give yourself time and space to sit with the complexity of your feelings, including any possible sadness, relief, doubt, or guilt. When you are ready, remind yourself that choosing to let go of a friendship that no longer serves you can create space for new, more fulfilling connections in the future.
Coping with a friendship break-up can feel especially painful when you were not the one to end the friendship, and might not have chosen to end it at all, given the choice.
Sometimes the other person explains why they have stepped away, and their reasons may feel understandable. Other times, the reasons may be unclear, or the other person might not have directly communicated them. However the ending unfolded, it is important to be gentle with yourself as you process any painful or confusing emotions that arise, including:
If the other person initiated the break-up, try to remind yourself that this does not mean there is something wrong with you. Friendships can end for all kinds of reasons, such as differences in values, interests, and levels of emotional maturity, and not all of these reasons involve wrongdoing.
If the other person did point to something you said or did as a reason for ending the friendship, it can be helpful to reflect on it. Ask yourself whether that behaviour might have been hurtful, and whether it is part of a recurring pattern. Try to approach this reflection with self-compassion rather than self-criticism. You might recognise behaviours or relationship dynamics you would like to change or avoid in future. Talking it through with a trusted adult, non-mutual friend, family member or an accredited counsellor or psychotherapist can also be helpful.
Throughout this process, it’s important to remind yourself that everyone makes mistakes. The fact that you’re willing to reflect and learn says a lot about your capacity for growth. Forgive yourself for any mistakes, whether real or imagined, and try to see what you have learned as a step toward stronger, healthier relationships in the future.
You might feel angry, confused, or hurt if the friendship break-up happened suddenly or without explanation. When a friend doesn’t clearly communicate why they have chosen to end the friendship, it can make the grief process more difficult. That’s because it can be hard to process something you can’t make sense of.
Not understanding the reason for a break-up can lead to rumination or going over the situation repeatedly in your mind, trying to work out what went wrong. These kinds of repetitive or biased thought patterns are unlikely to lead to helpful insights. Instead, they tend to increase your level of emotional distress rather than helping you to process it.
There are plenty of alternative ways of managing the difficult emotions that can arise from not knowing. Psychologists and other mental health professionals often refer to healthy ways of managing your emotions as positive emotion regulation strategies. You can learn more about how to practise these in our article on regulating your emotions.
An emotion regulation strategy that can be particularly useful in situations where you lack a clear explanation or sense of closure is cultivating an attitude of acceptance. Acceptance is not about giving up or becoming resigned to the situation in a defeated way. Rather, acceptance means acknowledging the uncertainty and not-knowing, and choosing not to let that uncertainty prevent you from processing any difficult emotions in a healthy way. This can be a way of making peace with what has happened so you can begin to heal and move on.
Healing from a friendship break-up involves finding self-compassionate ways to process and move through distress, without behaving in destructive ways towards yourself or others.
Practical strategies for coping after a friendship break-up might look like:
Last month, thousands of people marched through Dublin city centre calling for climate justice. It was cold, rainy and loud, but above all, it was determined. From the Garden of Remembrance to Molesworth Street, signs read “People and nature before big polluters.” Chants rose for affordable homes, clean energy and climate action. For many of those young feet on the streets, tending placards or pushing bikes through city traffic, their anger and hope came from a place of deep care and from fear.
This fear is real, and increasingly common. It has a name: eco-anxiety. It describes the emotional impact of climate change, including worry, grief and despair that many young people now carry with them daily. Studies show eco-anxiety is not only widespread but also closely linked to mental health and civic engagement.
I recently worked on a short documentary, ‘Embrace and Act: Living with Eco-Anxiety’, that puts eco-anxiety at the centre of the story told through the voices of young people living in Ireland and grounded in expert insight. It is a film about fear, resilience and action.
As psychotherapist Matthew Henson outlines, eco-anxiety is not a sign of weakness or a sign of being overly sensitive. He warns against dismissive labels like “histrionic imagination” or “snowflake generation.” For him, eco-anxiety is a legitimate response to a real crisis. “It is a legitimate concern about the state of the planet,” he says, naming climate change, wars and environmental devastation.
Research continues to show what happens when those concerns go unacknowledged. A recent large review found that eco-anxiety is linked to higher rates of psychological distress, depression and stress symptoms. At the same time, newer work suggests that for many young adults, experiencing eco-anxiety increases the likelihood of pro-environmental action.
In short, eco-anxiety is real. It can feel heavy, but it can also be a source of strength.
In Ireland, climate change is often debated in abstract terms like carbon budgets and emissions targets. What gets lost in that debate is the emotional weight carried by a generation facing storms, floods, and uncertain futures. That weight does not disappear when the debate ends. It surfaces as stress, despair, sleepless nights and a sense of being alone.
That is why the documentary leans into stories rather than statistics. We spoke with young people studying, working, and caring for the climate. People who talked about grief for lost winters, their fear for children they hope to have one day, and their frustration that feelings about the environment are seen as a personal problem. These are not isolated feelings. These are shared, and they are urgent.
In the film, some young people spoke about what helps. Small acts: cycling instead of driving, connecting with nature, talking with friends, joining community spaces where climate concern does not feel like a burden but a bond. Others described activism and community organising as sources of solidarity and hope. That echoes what Matthew Henson argues is most important: acknowledging the feelings, giving ourselves and each other permission to feel without shame, and then choosing connection over isolation.
These actions matter, and recent research backs it up. People who report higher climate anxiety are more likely to engage in sustainable behaviours, vote on climate issues and participate in grassroots activism.
In bringing together individual stories, professional insight and community momentum, the film does not end in despair. It points toward possibility: healing, solidarity and collective action.
Last month’s march was proof. The rain-soaked streets, the chants, the banners were not just symbolic. They were a statement. We may be afraid. But we are not alone. We will act together.
Eco-anxiety is not a problem to be hidden. It is a reality to be named and addressed. And as long as young people in Ireland feel this, our stories, our fears, and our hopes deserve space. They deserve change.
With this documentary, we hope to open that space. We hope to show the human face behind climate statistics and inspire compassion, understanding and action.
If you felt uneasy when you heard about the march, or worried about the lack of progress, or stayed awake thinking about what the future might hold, you are not alone. This is not hopeless. It can be a turning point.
Fear can hurt. It can also move us.
Fatima Ismail is one of Ireland’s UN Youth Climate Delegates and host of spunout’s new documentary ‘Embrace and Act: Living with Eco-Anxiety’ available to stream tomorrow on YouTube.
The housing crisis in Ireland is one of the defining social issues of our time, with an acute and intense impact on young people in particular. In this context, spunout has worked with The Housing Agency to offer practical advice to young people faced with no other option than moving back into the family home.
Unfortunately, this reflects the real-life concerns of many young people due to the housing crisis. Every day, we see huge numbers of young people accessing information content on spunout.ie on topics such as “What is Housing Assistance Payment?” and “What to do if you can’t pay your rent”.
All of the high-quality information that we share is driven by young people. At a consultation on housing and homelessness, young people expressed to us their need for reliable information on a range of difficult issues. In response to this, spunout has worked with members of our Youth Action Panel, in partnership with The Housing Agency, to create content dealing with topics such as supporting friends in homelessness and moving back in with family.
The impact of the housing crisis is far-reaching for Ireland’s young people. Lack of secure accommodation has serious implications for young people’s mental health, education, employment prospects and personal development. It makes it harder to take up job opportunities, attend college, form relationships, or build a stable life.
It is the role of spunout as a youth-led organisation to continue to provide factual, reliable, and non-judgemental information support to young people facing incredibly difficult housing circumstances.
It is the role of the Government to rapidly escalate the level of intervention in the housing market. spunout has advocated for this on numerous occasions, most recently in our 2026 Pre-Budget Submission which calls for a €4.1 billion investment in providing affordable housing and tackling youth homelessness.
As the housing crisis deepens for young people, spunout will continue to press for large-scale government action, while taking steps to inform and support young people facing difficult housing choices through no fault of their own.