What does it take to rebuild when justice never arrives? Theresa Robinson brings us into her Dublin childhood, the secret she carried for years, and the day seizures exposed everything. From a hospital letter to a stonewalled case, from antidepressants to anger she couldn’t name, she learned to place blame where it belonged—and to see her younger self as a child worthy of safety and love.

We trace the way small acts become lifelines. Walking a newborn through quiet COVID streets turned into laps at the park, then early-morning training, a mini marathon for One in Four, and finally the full Dublin Marathon. Theresa explains how movement gave her mind a room with windows, why consistency beats confidence, and how a friend reframed body image so she could stand taller without shrinking her story. As a mum, she speaks frankly with her daughter about consent, boundaries, and language—tools she wishes she’d had sooner.

The conversation deepens with grief. Theresa’s dad, a gent and a grafter, died after a final call from ICU and a room filled with the music he loved. She didn’t watch the last breath because she didn’t need to—there were no debts left unpaid. Her mum is finding new rhythms now: women’s groups, local centres, small steps that keep the day moving. Through it all, Theresa builds a community that prizes honest effort over perfect outcomes, helping people who’ve lived through trauma, epilepsy, or low mood find practical ways to feel capable again.

If you’re looking for a story that blends survival with hope, mental health with real tools, and fitness with heart, you’ll feel at home here. Listen, share it with someone who needs a nudge to start, and if it resonated, subscribe and leave a review so more people can find these conversations. What small step could you take today?

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