Stephen McFarland Inspired Counselling

10/10/2025

www.inspiredcounsellingservices.co.uk

10/10/2025

This is along the entrance to the carpark behind my counselling office. Very bright and welcoming.

29/09/2025

Just imagine a world were we managed to do this for each other.

04/09/2025

www.inspiredcounsellingservices.co.uk

18/08/2025

The little boy came to our table of leather-clad bikers and slammed down a paper that said "DADDY'S FUNERAL - NEED SCARY MEN."
His tiny fingers were still stained with marker ink, and his Superman cape was on backwards. The diner went dead silent as fifteen members of the Iron Wolves MC stared at this kid who couldn't have weighed forty pounds soaking wet.
"My mom said I can't ask you," he announced, his chin jutting out defiantly. "But she's crying all the time and the mean boys at school said daddy won't go to heaven without scary men to protect him."
Big Tom, who'd done two tours in Afghanistan and had a skull tattooed on his neck, carefully picked up the paper. It was a child's drawing of stick figures on motorcycles surrounding a coffin, with "PLEASE COME" written in backwards letters.
"Where's your mom, little man?" Tom asked, his voice a low rumble that usually preceded a fight, but was now impossibly gentle.
The boy pointed through the window to a beat-up Toyota where a young woman sat with her head in her hands. "She's scared of you. Everyone's scared of you. That's why I need you."
I'd seen Tom break a man's jaw for disrespecting his bike. But his hands shook as he read what else was on that paper - a date, tomorrow, and an address for Riverside Cemetery.
"What was your daddy's name?" someone asked from the back.
"Officer Marcus Rivera," the boy said proudly. "He was a police. A bad man shot him."
The silence in the diner got heavier, thick enough to choke on. Cops and bikers weren't exactly natural allies. Most of us had been hassled, profiled, some even beaten by police. And now this cop's kid was asking us to honor his fallen father.
Tom stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow over the small table. "What's your name, superman?"
"Miguel. Miguel Rivera."
"Well, Miguel Rivera," Tom said, kneeling down so he was eye to eye with the boy, a giant meeting a sparrow. "You tell your mom that your daddy's going to have the biggest, loudest, scariest es**rt to heaven any police officer ever had."
The boy's eyes went wide. "Really? You'll come?"
"Brother," Snake spoke up from the corner, and I could hear the conflict in his voice. "He was a cop."
"He was a father," Tom said firmly, his gaze never leaving Miguel's. "And this little warrior just did the bravest thing I've seen all year. We ride."
The next morning, I arrived at the cemetery two hours early. I thought I'd be the only one, a chance to get my head right before the awkwardness and the stares. But then my jaw dropped.
The narrow road leading to the cemetery entrance was already lined with bikes. Not just the fifteen of us from the diner, but our entire chapter. Forty men, standing quietly by their polished Harleys, the morning sun glinting off the chrome. But that wasn't what stopped my heart. Further down the road, another group was pulling in. The Vipers. Our bitter rivals. And behind them, the Sons of Odin. Word had gotten out. A call had been made for scary men, and the entire goddamn scary underworld had answered.
When the funeral procession finally arrived, the hearse slowed to a stop. I saw Miguel in the car behind it, his small face pressed against the glass. His mother looked up, and her hand flew to her mouth, her expression of fear melting into stunned disbelief.
There were over a hundred of us. A silent army of leather and steel.
At some unseen signal from Tom, a hundred engines roared to life at the exact same instant. The sound was biblical. It wasn't angry or aggressive; it was a deep, thundering proclamation. We are here. We formed a double line, a guard of honor for the hearse and the family, and es**rted them through the gates.
At the graveside, a small group of uniformed officers stood stiffly, their honor guard looking tense as we dismounted. They watched us, we watched them. But there was no trouble. We formed a wide, silent circle around the service, our backs to the family, facing outward. We were a wall, protecting their grief from the world.
After the service, as the last of the mourners were leaving, the police chief walked over to Big Tom. He was a hard-looking man I'd seen on the news a dozen times. He stopped, looked at Tom, then at the sea of bikers standing in silent respect.
"I... I don't have the words," the chief said, his voice rough. "Officer Rivera was a good man."
Tom just gave a short, sharp nod. "He had a good son."
That's when I saw Miguel, holding his mother's hand, walking purposefully toward us. He stopped in front of Tom, who immediately knelt down again. Miguel wasn't wearing his cape anymore. He was holding the folded American flag from his father's coffin.
He held it out. "This is for you," he said, his voice clear and steady.
Tom gently pushed it back. "No, little man. That's yours. That's your daddy's."
"My daddy was a hero," Miguel said, pushing the flag firmly into Tom's huge, tattooed hand. "He protected people. And today, you protected him."
Tom stared at the flag in his hand, his jaw working, his whole body trembling. The man I'd seen walk through a bar fight without flinching was completely undone by a forty-pound superhero. He couldn't speak. He just nodded, his eyes shining with tears he refused to let fall.
We didn't ride away with a roar. We left one by one, a quiet rumble that spoke of a respect that went deeper than clubs or colors or the badges on a uniform. We had come because a little boy asked for scary men. But we left knowing we'd just met the bravest one of all.

08/07/2025

Are you....you?
Clients love this realisation at a point in their therapy, when they realise they are themselves again, or maybe for the 1st time. 😀

www.inspiredcounsellingservices.co.uk

Children Young People Adults

30/06/2025

This is inspiration 🙌

24/06/2025

No reason to post, other than it's a beautiful poem and reminds me of a simpler time...

www.inspiredcounsellingservices.co.uk

22/06/2025

Book online now through my website, for face to face sessions, or online sessions from anywhere in Europe.

Children & young people & adults sessions available this week! Why wait? ✋️
Book yourself in for this week, now. 😀 Stephen

www.inspiredcounsellingservices.co.uk

09/06/2025

🏁 🏍 🙏

Please read; share and support Daisy’s story 💫

When Daisy was just 3 years old, she faced a loss no child should have to bear — her daddy went to heaven. Since then, she’s been navigating grief in her own brave way.

Grief is a tough and often quiet journey, especially for children. That’s why Daisy wanted to create this storybook — to help other little hearts understand that they’re not alone, and it’s okay to feel sad, confused, or lost.

Now aged 9, this book is Daisy’s gentle way of talking to children, from one child to another, about love, loss, and healing. Because sometimes, the most powerful comfort comes from knowing someone else understands.

This week marked her daddy’s anniversary in heaven, and with Father’s Day just around the corner, we’re launching “Daisy & Hugsy — The Missing Star” for any little hearts who might need it right now. 💛

A tender story of love, loss, and the healing power of hugs.

From a drawing Daisy made of Hugsy… to a real book now being held in her hands. ✨

This isn’t just a story. It’s a legacy.

It’s for every child missing someone in the stars. 💫

We hope this story brings warmth, courage, and hope to families who need it most.

Thank you for supporting Daisy’s mission to make grief a little less lonely.

📖 Available now on Amazon - link on Daisy’s website www.hugsybrightheart.com

07/06/2025

Have you lost your way in 2025?
struggled with an addiction?
fell behind with something you wanted to achieve?
given up on a hope you had?

Well, we are still in 2025, you are still alive, even if you don't feel it much, we still have time to help you let the crap out, strike up a plan, and get achieving, changing, stopping, starting, whatever you need.

You can go straight to my website and book in online, from anywhere in Europe for online sessions, or if closer to Cullybackey you can book in for face to face sessions.

I work privately with Children, young people, and adults.

I hope to see you soon, Stephen 🤙🏼

www.inspiredcounsellingservices.co.uk

16/02/2025

Dear Parent,

Today I sent you an email to inform you that your child has failed to turn in yet another assignment.

He is in danger of failing my class, and I thought you might be concerned about his grade.

Turns out I was wrong.

Instead of asking me if there is anything he can do to make up the work, or what he needs to do to pass, you blamed me. You accused me of not liking your kid.

To be perfectly frank, he’s not my favorite.

He is rude.

He lies to me.

He blows off my class, and he proclaims my lessons “stupid.” I have seen him mouth off to kids who are bigger and tougher, and I’ve seen him be mean to kids who are weaker and less fortunate.

So you are right.

I don’t always like him. But I do care about him.

I care very much, and I am worried.

You see, one day very soon this boy you are so eager to protect will leave your nest, and I am worried that he does not have the skills to make it in the real world.

I worry that his future employers or friends or spouse, will not have the patience that you and I have.

I worry that he will slack off at work and make excuses.

I worry he will be rude to his boss and mouthy to his coworkers.

I worry he will be unkind and that he won’t be able to keep a job or friends or a wife.

I worry that he’ll be lonely.

And when these things happen, you will not be able to protect him.

When he blames others for his problems by saying, “Well, they just don’t like me,” he will be right.

It’s true. Sometimes I don’t like your son.

But mostly I am just frustrated by how hard he makes it to like him.

I’ve seen enough to know that it could be easier.

Sometimes he forgets that he’s supposed to hate school.

He forgets that caring isn’t cool.

Sometimes I see a spark of interest. I see a light come on.

On those days when he shares some insight into a poem or a thoughtful opinion about something we’ve read, I can tell he gets it.

And he likes getting it.

Your son is funny. He has a quick wit that is charming when he doesn’t use it to cut down another kid.

I admit it. At times I don’t like your son.

But he has bigger problems.

I don’t like him, but I do care about him.

Soon he will be out in the world where there will be people who neither like him nor care about him. He will be out in a world that doesn’t accept excuses or bad moods or phone calls from Mom defending poor behavior.

Please do not send him into that world unprepared.

A Concerned Teacher