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Last year I was at a relative’s wake. It was one of those strange afternoons where grief and laughter sit side by side. Stories were being told, tea was being poured, sandwiches were circulating, and there was cake on the table. I took a slice. The man next to me found out I was a personal trainer. He looked at my plate, paused, and with genuine curiosity asked, “Go on then… you’re allowed that?” It’s a question I’ve heard many times, and it reveals a lot about how people thi

When my daughter was born, I had my first panic attack. I felt helpless. Not because I was scared for myself… but because I feared missing a single moment of her life. That fear has stayed with me ever since. But the gym became my medicine. Not to look good, but to survive. To feel calm. To reclaim control.