The Full Story

THE IMPACT OF INTERIORS ON  HEALTH

Through renovating my own home, I discovered something profound: interiors are not superficial. They are deeply psychological. The way a space flows affects how we think. Light changes our mood. Layout influences connection. Colour can energise or calm the nervous system. A space can make you feel confined or free, stressed or relaxed, invited or unease.
 

When I was twelve years old, I stood in the cold shell of a showhouse, no floors, no warmth, no life in it and I had butterflies, a knowing. I knew I wanted to open the walls, let light travel freely, and create a space that evoked feelings. I could already see it finished: open plan, connected, welcoming.

In Ireland in the 1990s, show houses were far and few between and interior design wasn’t something people spoke about. I didn't know what flipping houses meant but I instinctively knew it would be my dream.  I loved art but I didn’t sketch masterpieces and feeling tactile, computers are not my thing.

But I have vision, passion and an understanding how to make space functional and beautiful.

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I could walk into a room and feel what it needed. I could sense when a wall should come down, when a corner could become a window seat, when moving a sink a few inches would transform how a space felt and used storage. I understood instinctively how to create illusion, how to make a small room feel expansive, or a large one feel intimate and safe. I was perceptive. I was creative. I was a reorganiser of space long before I had language for it.

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Years later, life slowed me down in ways I hadn’t expected but it was self inflicted by my lifestyle. Unemployed, living with multiple autoimmune conditions, socially isolated and under-stimulated were to name of few challenges. Home became both my refuge and my limitation. My body felt unreliable. My world felt smaller.

But the house, my house held hope and possibility.

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What began as “just a bit of redecorating” quickly became something far deeper. I threw myself into it completely. I built benches from scratch. I learned how to panell walls by hand. I prepped, sanded, painted, lifted, measured, redesigned. I didn’t just imagine the transformation, I executed every inch of it myself.

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The physical labour was relentless. My hands were blistered, my eyes burnt from paint fumes. My body ached from layers and layers of paint on damaged walls. I was exhausted in a way that sleep didn’t fix.

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Yet something extraordinary was happening.

For the first time in a long time, my mind was alive again.

Each wall I panelled felt like reclaiming control. Each brushstroke felt like quieting anxiety. Each design decision gave me purpose. I had somewhere to channel my energy, not into illness, not into fear but into creation.

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Renovation became meditation.

The house began to transform and so did I.

But healing is rarely linear.

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While the creative work soothed my mind, I was not nourishing my body. I wasn’t fuelling myself properly. I wasn’t resting enough. I was overworking, over-exerting, carrying every responsibility as a  designer, builder, labourer, project manager, mother, wife.

The irony wasn’t lost on me: I was creating a sanctuary while neglecting the body that needed one most.

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I reeducated myself in Interior Design feeling this was my path. Eventually, my deteriorating health forced me to confront a truth I had been avoiding. I had not healed yet. The paradox being it encouraged so much healing but also created a physical burnout. This meant I had to step away again, remaining unemployed, for what felt like a calling, a destined path.

The wisdom I gained from physically building, prepping, sanding, and painting will always stay with me. There are lessons you can only learn;

I understand materials differently because I worked with them.
I respect craftsmanship because I practiced it.
I design with empathy because I know the process from the inside out.

What started as survival, an attempt to revamp a home on little finances, became a calling.

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That twelve-year-old girl standing in the shell of a house wasn’t just dreaming about open plan living. She was understanding that space has power to transform peoples homes, peoples lives as it did mine.

Renovation was the doorway, but health became the journey and now understanding how both intertwine and having the knowledge and the skillset to help people improve their lives is motivating.

Today, I approach design differently. I create with intention. I consider not just how a room looks, but how it supports the mind and body within it. I honour rest. I value nourishment. I design spaces that function well because I learned what it feels like not to.

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My home didn’t just transform physically.

It rebuilt me and gave me the space and harmony to educate myself about the importance of lifestyle.

And that was only the beginning.

If you feel inspired, I welcome you to book a virtual consultation which will include a home call out and an initial online discussion about your budget and expectations.

 

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