Triumph through the affliction of addiction

19/08/2026

There’s something beautiful about being honest about our struggles.

Because I’ve struggled with substance abuse for a long time in my life, I find that people who are struggling themselves are often drawn to me.

Maybe it’s because they know I’m not going to judge them. I understand. I’ve been there.

Recently, I was working beside a guy who was really struggling. He was contacting his dealer, and I could see how distressed he was.

Instead of pretending that I had everything together, I just said:

“I’m struggling today too. I’m being tempted to use.”

He smiled.

I told him that sometimes you have to cut the people who enable you out of your life. Block them. Delete them if you can. Pray for the strength not to go back.

He thanked me.

And I realised that my being vulnerable had given him permission to be vulnerable too.

A few days later, after I came back from Lough Derg, he came over to me.

“I ended up using, my friend.”

And I said, “That’s okay. I’ve struggled too.”

Sometimes the people we are trying to get away from find their way back into our lives. Sometimes we make choices we wish we hadn’t made. It’s happened to me.

But one fall doesn’t mean the story is over.

And I think this is where we have to go deeper.

Sometimes the substance isn’t the whole story.

There can be inner wounds underneath the behaviour — pain, rejection, loneliness, shame, abandonment, trauma, things we have carried for years without really knowing how to deal with them.

If we only deal with the outward behaviour, we can miss what is happening underneath.

For me, faith has taught me that healing isn’t simply about stopping something. It is also about allowing God to reach the wounded places within us and learning who we really are beyond our mistakes, our past and our struggles.

That doesn’t mean everything disappears overnight. Healing can be a journey.

Then I asked him:

“Have you ever thought about Medjugorje?”

He said, “Yes. I’m planning to go. I really want to go.”

So we talked about Medjugorje.

Then he opened up even more and told me about his sister, who is struggling with addiction too and has been suicidal.

And I thought: this is why I love talking to people about my own struggles.

I love talking about God. I love talking about Medjugorje. I love talking about what I’ve been through.

Because when you share your story, people don’t feel so alone.

They don’t feel judged.

They can finally say what they’ve been carrying inside.

And sometimes the person who needs to hear “I struggle too” doesn’t need a sermon.

They just need somebody to sit beside them and understand.

Because behind the addiction, behind the behaviour, behind the mask, there can be a wounded person who desperately needs to know that they are loved.

Get to the root.
Bring the wounds into the light.
Let God into the places we have tried to hide.

That’s what ministry means to me.

That’s what compassion looks like.
And that’s what love looks like.

27/07/2026

Please, Support My Pilgrimage for Those Battling Addiction

I’m raising funds to help cover the travel and accommodation costs for a three-day pilgrimage to Lough Derg, which I am offering in prayer for everyone affected by addiction and for their families.

Having walked my own journey through addiction, I know the pain, the struggle, and the hope that recovery can bring. During prayer, I felt called to make this pilgrimage in solidarity with those still suffering, entrusting them to God’s mercy and healing.

I live by divine providence, trusting God to provide through the generosity of others. As Lough Derg is a fasting pilgrimage, food is already provided through the retreat, so the funds will go towards travel and accommodation.

If you feel able to support this mission, whether through a donation or your prayers, I would be deeply grateful. Every contribution helps me carry the intentions of those struggling with addiction before God.

Thank you, and may God bless you abundantly.

https://www.facebook.com/share/1ESqNjqtmi/?mibextid=wwXIfr

My name is Seamus and I am involved with a ministry that focuses on addiction re… Seamus ONeill needs your support for To afford, travel, accommodation etc.

10/07/2026

As I write this, I’m sitting outside a church. Before I came here, I simply prayed, “Holy Spirit, lead me.”

Around me are people are binge drinking. Some openly. Some trying to hide it. And my heart aches. Jesus, please help these people. What is the answer?

That question has stayed with me.

Shame is one of the enemy’s greatest weapons. It wraps itself around us and whispers lies, often with our cooperation and without us even realising it. It convinces us that we’re beyond help, beyond love, beyond healing. It keeps us hidden and stops us from taking those first steps towards freedom.

I remember after the trauma of nearly being murdered in Barcelona. It triggered something far deeper than that one event. It opened wounds that had been buried since childhood, taking me back to the torture and bullying I experienced at school. When you’ve lived through addiction and people dismiss your story because of your past, those old wounds rise to the surface. You’re not just reliving one trauma—you can find yourself reliving them all. Sometimes we regress into old patterns, not because we’ve failed, but because the pain has been touched again.

This is often how healing works. When the light of Jesus shines into the hidden places of our hearts, what has been buried begins to surface. Through Baptism, Confirmation and the Eucharist, the Holy Spirit dwells within us. Receiving Jesus in Holy Communion, we become living tabernacles, carrying his presence into the world.

Sometimes, simply by carrying Jesus, we unknowingly stir the wounds of those around us. Some people are drawn towards that light because they long for healing. Others resist it because the light exposes wounds they are not yet ready to face. Some experience both at the same time.

The truth is that none of us are completely healed. We all carry places that Jesus continues to heal.

My heart breaks when I see the number of people living with depression, anxiety, panic attacks, addiction, trauma and suicidal thoughts. I know something of that darkness, and because I’ve tasted the mercy of Jesus, I want others to discover it too.

Many people want healing, but healing isn’t simply something we receive. We have to cooperate with grace. We need support, education, mercy, patient accompaniment and people willing to walk beside us with a firm but loving hand.

The Church has a treasure beyond measure in Jesus, yet there are so many outside her doors starving for hope. What is the answer?

We cannot become saviours. Jesus alone is the Saviour.

But we can become vessels of his mercy. We can wrap people in the love flowing from his Precious Blood by listening, accompanying, encouraging and simply remaining present with them.

Something beautiful often happens along the way. The person you thought you were helping becomes someone through whom Jesus heals you as well. As you walk together, your wounds meet theirs. Sometimes they expose each other’s pain. Sometimes they become places where grace enters. Jesus remains the Divine Physician, healing both hearts.

Healing also comes through prayer, Eucharistic Adoration, praise, worship, creativity, music, dance, sport, community and service. Then, when we come before Jesus in the Eucharist, we allow the memories, the traumas, the people and the situations that have surfaced to rest beneath the loving gaze of the Father. We cannot force healing, but we can keep saying yes to grace, trusting that Jesus will continue the work he has begun in us.

If you wish to further help in finding the creative outreach projects in this mission please feel free to click the link and donate.

https://pay.sumup.com/b2c/QNIHVAR4

13/06/2026

For years I thought addiction was the problem. Looking back, addiction was often the symptom. Beneath it were wounds, grief, fear, loneliness, shame, trauma, and memories I did not know how to face.

What has surprised me most in recovery is that healing has not come through willpower alone. It has come through a relationship with God.

As I spend time in prayer, especially before Jesus in Adoration, God often brings memories to the surface. Not to shame me or condemn me, but to heal me. Sometimes a memory appears that I have not thought about for years. As I sit with Jesus, I experience His love touching places in my heart that I have carried for decades. It is both supernatural and completely natural at the same time. I have become used to it in one sense, yet it still amazes me.

Many times I cry. Not because I am broken, but because I feel loved. The tears feel cleansing. They feel like years of pain, fear, rejection, and sorrow being brought into the light of God’s love. I often leave prayer feeling lighter, more peaceful, and more alive than when I entered.

What I have learned is that healing is usually not a single event. It is a journey. It happens layer by layer, like peeling an onion. Sometimes I think God has healed a particular wound, only for Him to gently reveal another layer underneath. Not because I have failed, but because His love wants to go deeper.

I do not see myself as fully healed. I am still healing. There are still wounds, temptations, weaknesses, and areas of my life that I continue to place before God. Yet I can honestly say that Jesus has transformed my life and continues to transform it every day.

The sacraments have been at the heart of this journey. They are not simply religious practices. They are encounters with God. Through the Eucharist, Reconciliation, Adoration, prayer, and the life of the Church, I have found a place where the Father, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit can reach parts of my heart that I could never heal on my own.

At the same time, God has taught me that healing is not only spiritual. He cares about the whole person.

One of the greatest gifts in my healing journey has been creativity. Creating Evangelista, developing a character, performing, singing, dancing, and stepping onto a stage gave me a healthy way to express parts of myself that had been buried for years. Creativity became an outlet for emotions that I once tried to suppress or numb. It helped me rediscover joy, freedom, and confidence.

Sport has also played a huge role. Boxing and exercise have given me discipline, focus, and a way of processing emotions that once overwhelmed me. Instead of running from difficult feelings, I have learned how to channel energy into something positive and life-giving.

The more I heal, the more I realise that spirituality and humanity belong together. God meets me in Adoration, but He also meets me in friendship, creativity, laughter, music, movement, and ordinary life.

Healing also happens through honest friendships. Recently I told a friend that I was feeling tempted to buy a bag of co***ne. Years ago I would have hidden that thought. Instead, I spoke about it openly. We talked about it, laughed together, and carried on enjoying each other’s company. The temptation lost much of its power because it was brought into the light rather than hidden in the darkness.

That experience reminded me that healing is not about pretending we are beyond temptation. It is about learning to be honest, bringing struggles into the light, and allowing God to work through people He places in our lives.

I do not know what complete healing will look like this side of heaven. What I do know is that God is patient. The Father is patient. Jesus is patient. The Holy Spirit is patient. They continue to lead me gently, revealing another wound that needs healing, another memory that needs love, and another area of my life that needs grace.

People sometimes comment that I look younger, healthier, or more at peace than I used to. I do not think that comes from any secret formula. I think it comes from allowing God to heal me from the inside out. As pain loses its grip and love takes its place, something changes. Not only in the heart, but often in the face, the eyes, the body, and the way we relate to other people.

My experience is that addiction is not overcome simply by stopping a substance. Real freedom comes when we allow God to heal what we were trying to numb in the first place.

The sacraments have been powerful tools in that process, but the foundation beneath everything is a living relationship with God. As we grow closer to the Father, spend time with Jesus, and allow the Holy Spirit to work within us, healing becomes less about fixing ourselves and more about allowing ourselves to be loved.

And that healing continues, one layer at a time.

If you would like to help in this mission and my work in this field you can click the link below.

https://pay.sumup.com/b2c/QI93O6LM

02/06/2026

A Divine Appointment in Newry

One of the beautiful things about following the Holy Spirit is that I rarely know what is going to happen. I never arrive with a detailed plan. Usually, I simply try to be docile to God’s grace: attend Mass, receive Jesus in the Eucharist, spend time in Adoration, and remain open to whatever the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have in store.

During my recent arrival in Newry, I went into Adoration hoping for something very simple. If I am honest, I was hoping the chapel would be empty. I love those quiet moments alone with Jesus. But when I walked in, there was one other person there. At first, I felt slightly disappointed because things were not unfolding according to my expectations.

As so often happens with God, His plan turned out to be much better than mine.

I began talking with the woman who was there. She asked what had brought me to Newry, and I shared a little about the ministries I am involved in: prayer ministry, outreach to people affected by addiction, and ministry with people who experience same s*x attraction.

She listened with great interest and spoke about many of her friends who are gay. She shared her sadness over the ways some had felt judged, misunderstood, or marginalised by members of the Church. Because of those experiences, some had grown distant from the Church and carried wounds that made it difficult for them to see God’s love.

What struck me was how well she understood the middle ground that our ministry tries to walk: remaining faithful to the teaching of the Church while ensuring that every person encounters the dignity, compassion, and love of Jesus. It was encouraging to meet someone who immediately understood that mission.

As our conversation deepened, she began sharing about alcoholism within her family and about someone she had been praying for. She explained that she had been asking Jesus to send someone who could pray with her for this person. She believed our meeting was an answer to that prayer.

So we prayed together.

We prayed for the person affected by alcohol. We shared our stories, our hopes, and our concerns. We discovered common ground through friends in nursing and through experiences of accompanying people through suffering.

Something beautiful happened in that exchange.

While she had asked for prayer, I realised that I was receiving something too.

The Holy Spirit was ministering to both of us.

As she spoke, I found myself sharing some of my own vulnerabilities. Moving to Ireland has been a tremendous step of faith. Leaving London and settling into an unfamiliar place has not only been a spiritual challenge but a very human one as well. There are moments of uncertainty. Moments of wondering whether I am where God wants me to be. Moments when the practical realities of starting again can feel overwhelming.

Yet through this conversation, God brought encouragement exactly when I needed it.

By sharing honestly with one another, both of us found healing. My doubts about the ministry and my mission in Ireland seemed lighter. Her burdens became lighter too. Sometimes grace enters through prayer. Sometimes it enters through a conversation. Often it enters through both at the same time.

Looking back, I can see the gentle hand of Our Lady in the encounter. There was a maternal warmth and tenderness in the way the conversation unfolded. Through her openness and kindness, I felt deeply encouraged and reassured.

The whole experience reminded me why Eucharistic Adoration is so powerful. Jesus is truly present in the Blessed Sacrament. When we place ourselves before Him, we never know what He might do. We may arrive expecting silence and solitude, only to discover that He wants to meet us through another person. We may think we are coming to receive, only to discover that He wants us to give. Or we may come intending to help someone else and find that He has arranged for us to be helped as well.

Nothing is wasted in His presence.

As I left that day, I was reminded once again that God’s plans are always greater than my own. All He asks is that I show up, stay close to the Eucharist, remain open to the Holy Spirit, and trust Him.

I also gave her a ministry card of ours, she said she couldn’t wait to share with her daughter!

This is encounter.

The rest He takes care of.

11/05/2026

I only really write posts like this to share what I see and where I feel things could perhaps grow, because Medjugorje is a place of huge holy potential. It truly is an incredible place of prayer, confession, fasting, healing, conversion, and encounter with God. I have experienced so much grace here myself.

But lately my heart has really been with people who are struggling here quietly in the background. I keep meeting people with drink problems, loneliness, addiction, emotional wounds, and deep pain. Some come because alcohol is cheap, some arrive searching for peace, and before long they end up trapped in unhealthy cycles of drinking, isolation, shame, and surviving day to day. Then sadly people begin judging them, avoiding them, or gossiping about them, instead of walking with them.

And sometimes I feel so much emphasis is placed on the spiritual life that other human needs can unintentionally be overlooked. Not everyone is ready immediately for somewhere like Cenacolo or able to fully engage with recovery groups overnight. Some people first need friendship, trust, community, routine, purpose, recreation, and somebody willing to genuinely listen to them without making them feel like a problem.

I also think there can sometimes be a danger of a warped spirituality where people believe, “We just pray and Our Lady will take care of it all,” almost as if accompaniment and practical action are unnecessary. Of course prayer is essential, and Our Lady powerfully intercedes, but God so often works through people, through friendship, through presence, through practical love, through somebody stopping, listening, and walking with another person in their suffering. Sometimes that part can be forgotten when spirituality becomes too detached from human reality.

I really believe the priests, religious, laity, and long term pilgrims here could help more in creating spaces where struggling people are accompanied with mercy, dignity, patience, and practical support alongside the spiritual life. Not lowering the spirituality at all, because the prayer here is beautiful and powerful, but grounding it more deeply in human reality as well.

Jesus did not only call people to pray. He sat with the broken, ate with them, listened to them, walked beside them, and restored their dignity before the eyes of others.

Medjugorje is an amazing place, and I genuinely believe there is still even more room for growth in how the wounded, addicted, lonely, and forgotten are cared for here.

08/04/2026

At adoration and felt the mercy of Jesus and his love for those suffering in addictions!