Mark: Most self-help gets it wrong. It tells you to ignore the past and just 'be positive.' But what if the only way to fix your present is to become an archaeologist of your own history, even the painful parts? What if the key to your future is hidden in your story? Michelle: I love that framing. Because that "just be happy" advice always feels so hollow, doesn't it? It's like putting a fresh coat of paint on a crumbling wall. You're not fixing the foundation. Mark: Exactly. And that's the central, and I think revolutionary, idea in Owen O’Kane’s book, How to Be Your Own Therapist. Michelle: And O’Kane isn't just some wellness guru. This is a man with serious credentials—a former NHS Clinical Lead for Mental Health who grew up in Belfast during The Troubles. He's seen trauma and resilience up close, which gives his advice this incredible weight. Mark: Absolutely. He's not just talking theory. He's worked with it for decades, from palliative care to private practice. And his whole premise is that therapy isn't some mystical, inaccessible thing. It's a set of skills we can all learn, starting with understanding why we are the way we are.

Mark: Which brings us to the first big idea. O'Kane argues that you can't build a new future on a faulty foundation. You have to understand your own architecture first. He uses this brilliant analogy of a three-layer cake to describe our minds. Michelle: A cake? Okay, I'm listening. I like cake. Mark: Right? So, the top layer is our thoughts and feelings. This is the frosting, the decoration. It's what we notice every day—the anxiety, the joy, the self-criticism. It’s the daily weather of our minds. Michelle: That makes sense. It’s constantly changing. Mark: Precisely. Then you have the middle layer. These are your rules and beliefs. The 'shoulds' and 'oughts' you've picked up from family, culture, school. Things like "I should never fail," or "I must always please others." These rules dictate how you react and what thoughts and feelings pop up on that top layer. Michelle: Ah, so that's the recipe. The instructions that determine how the frosting turns out. Mark: Perfect analogy. And then there's the bottom layer. The foundation. These are your core beliefs about yourself and the world. Deep, often unconscious ideas like "I am not good enough," "I am unsafe," or "I am unlovable." These are formed early in life and they are the bedrock of the entire cake. If that foundation is shaky, the whole structure is unstable. Michelle: Wow. So a lot of what we experience daily—that top layer of anxiety or sadness—is actually just a symptom of a much deeper issue in the foundation. Mark: You've got it. And this is why just telling someone to "change their thoughts" often fails. You're just scraping off the frosting without fixing the cake. O'Kane shares a powerful story about a client he calls Nigel. Michelle: Let's hear it. Mark: Nigel is a successful professional, but he comes to therapy for anxiety, relationship problems, and a persistent feeling of failure. He's irritated, wants a quick fix, and insists his childhood was "fine, normal." He doesn't want to dig into the past. Michelle: I can relate to that. Who wants to go digging around in old stuff? Mark: Exactly. But O'Kane gently pushes him to create a life timeline. And a huge emotional reaction comes up around one event: at age 11, he was sent to a private boarding school he hated, while all his friends went to the local school. He never told his parents how unhappy he was because he didn't want to disappoint them. Michelle: Oh, wow. Mark: And here’s the connection. His chronic Sunday-night anxiety, which he'd had for years? It wasn't just about the work week. It was a direct echo of that Sunday-night dread he felt as a boy, knowing he had to go back to a place where he felt trapped and unheard. His high-paying corporate job felt, to his nervous system, exactly like that school. Michelle: That's incredible. So his whole adult life was being dictated by a decision made when he was 11? And he had no idea. Mark: None. He had normalized the experience. By connecting his present struggle to that past event, he could finally understand the 'why' behind his anxiety. He wasn't failing at life; he was a child's unheard feelings playing out in an adult's body. Michelle: But how do we even begin to see those connections in our own lives? It's easy in a case study, but my own story just feels like a mess of random events. Mark: O'Kane's first step is that timeline exercise. Writing down the key events of your life, not just chronologically, but noting how they made you feel. It’s about becoming a detective of your own story, looking for patterns without judgment.

Mark: And that's the perfect bridge to O'Kane's second big idea. Once you've done that foundational work, you don't just leave it there. You build a daily practice. He compares it to brushing your teeth—essential mental hygiene. Michelle: Okay, I love the idea, but I'm skeptical. Ten minutes a day? Can that really make a difference when people spend years in therapy? Mark: It's a fair question. O'Kane's point is that it's about consistency. You're not solving deep-seated trauma in ten minutes. You're building new neural pathways. You're training your brain, day by day, to function in a healthier, more flexible way. It's a maintenance tool. Michelle: Like a mental workout. So what does this 10-minute routine look like? Mark: He breaks it into three parts. The first is in the morning, called READY. It's four minutes to check in with your emotions, set a positive intention, practice gratitude, and do a grounding exercise. Michelle: Grounding? What does that actually mean? Mark: It's a technique to quiet the mind and calm the body's stress response. O'Kane suggests a simple three-step process. First, close your eyes and visualize a place that feels beautiful and peaceful to you—a beach, a forest, whatever. Second, choose a single word that represents that feeling, like 'calm' or 'safe'. Third, while holding that image and word, you gently tap your thighs alternately, left-right, left-right, for about 30 seconds. This bilateral stimulation sends a signal to your brain that you're safe and deactivates the 'threat mode'. Michelle: Huh. That's surprisingly concrete. I can picture doing that. What's the next part? Mark: The second part is midday, called STEADY. It's a three-minute reset. This is where you notice and tweak any 'thinking traps' you've fallen into. O'Kane tells a funny story about a woman named Julia on the London Underground. Michelle: Oh, I'm ready for this. Mark: The train gets stuck in a tunnel for ten minutes. Julia, who was on her way to see the musical Mamma Mia!, becomes absolutely incensed. She declares her whole weekend is ruined, she's lost money on the tickets, she's writing to her MP! She's catastrophizing. Her friend, meanwhile, calmly suggests they just find a bar, have a cocktail, and get tickets for the next day's matinee. Michelle: I feel like I've been both Julia and her friend at different times in my life. Mark: We all have! The point of the 'Steady' practice is to catch yourself in a 'Julia moment,' recognize the thinking trap, and consciously choose a more balanced, helpful thought—to be your own rational friend. Michelle: And the final part of the day? Mark: That's REFLECT AND RESET. Another three minutes before bed. This involves journaling to let go of the day's distress, reflecting on any lessons learned, and ending with a simple cleansing ritual, like symbolically washing your hands of the day's worries. It’s about closing the loop so you don't take the day's baggage to bed with you.

Michelle: This daily maintenance sounds great for the normal ups and downs. But what happens when life throws a major curveball? A global pandemic, a death in the family... does the 10-minute routine hold up then? Mark: That's the crucial third part of the book. The daily practice isn't just for good days; it's what builds the psychological muscle and resilience you need for the crises. And O'Kane's perspective here is deeply informed by his work in palliative care. He has a lot to say about bereavement. Michelle: What's his main takeaway? Mark: That grief is utterly unique to the individual. He pushes back hard against the idea of neat, predictable 'stages of grief.' He says for some, it can feel like a part of them has died too, and that needs to be honored. The most important things you can offer someone—or yourself—are patience, time, and understanding. Michelle: That feels so much more compassionate. Mark: It is. And he tells the story of a client named Margo, which is one ofthe most moving accounts of healing I've ever read. Margo came to him seventeen years after her 21-year-old daughter died in a tragic accident. She'd seen many therapists for grief and depression, but she was still completely stuck, unable to live her life. Michelle: Seventeen years. That's a lifetime. Mark: It is. O'Kane realized that Margo wasn't just grieving; she was suffering from untreated trauma, or PTSD, from the shock of her daughter's death. The therapy had to shift from just talking about sadness to directly processing the traumatic memories. It was incredibly difficult work. Michelle: I can't even imagine. Mark: But as they did the work, Margo slowly began to change. She started reconnecting with friends. She booked a cruise. And then came the biggest step. She decided to renovate her daughter's bedroom, which had been left untouched, like a shrine, for seventeen years. Michelle: Wow. Mark: The builders came in, and Margo made one request. There was a glitter ball hanging from the ceiling that her daughter had loved. She told them: "You can change everything else, but the glitter ball stays." After the room was finished, she turned it into her own art studio. And the book ends with this image of Margo, now in her seventies, painting, creating, and finding joy again, right under her daughter's sparkling glitter ball. Michelle: That glitter ball... that's such a powerful image of holding onto love while still moving forward. It gives me chills. Mark: It's a symbol of her rekindled life. But you're right to be thoughtful here. This is where the book's limits are important, isn't it? O'Kane himself says this is not a replacement for professional therapy, especially with trauma as profound as Margo's. Michelle: Exactly. It seems the book's power is in giving you the tools for daily life and, crucially, the self-awareness to know when a problem is too big to handle on your own. Knowing when you need to call in a professional is part of being your own therapist. Mark: That's the ultimate point. It's about empowerment, not substitution.

Michelle: So when you piece it all together, it's not about becoming a licensed therapist overnight. It's about shifting from being a passenger in our own minds to being a compassionate pilot. Knowing the map of our past, having a daily pre-flight check, and knowing how to navigate turbulence. Mark: Exactly. And the most profound lesson, I think, comes from his background. A man who grew up amidst political violence and worked with the dying is telling us that the most powerful tool we have is simple, daily, compassionate attention to our own inner world. It's not about grand gestures, but small, consistent acts of self-respect. Michelle: He combines self-care and self-compassion into one word: 'carepassion'. I love that. It’s not just bubble baths; it’s the attitude of kindness you bring to yourself. Mark: It is. And it makes the whole process feel so much more achievable. It's not about fixing everything at once. It's about taking the next best step. Michelle: Which leads to a good question for everyone listening. So, what's one small, 1-minute act of 'carepassion'—as O'Kane calls it—that you can commit to for yourself today? Mark: That's the perfect place to start. We'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Let us know what resonates. You can find us on all the usual channels. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.