Finding meaning at the beach

It’s hard to find meaning when you’re lost in sea of negative thoughts. These days with the inescapable loop of social media and doom scrolling, I find its becoming easier and easier to lose sight of meaningful interaction and get trapped in those kind of spirals. I find my phone glued to my wrist more often than I’d care to admit and enough is enough. You only have to look at this blog, and the fact that the last post was March 2020 to find proof in that statement. I am always promising myself to do more of what I love, and failing to deliver. Here’s an attempt to reignite an old spark and turn my digital consumption back into something useful. What would I be doing if I wasn’t looking at my phone? The answer: reading and writing. So here we are. I wrote the below yesterday while spending some time with me, myself, and I at the beach.

———————————————————————

I listened to a podcast just now which gave me food for thought around happiness and meaning in general. It talked about Victor Frankl’s book which I read back in 2019. Frankl having endured the unimaginable horrors of the concentration camps, says meaning is right in front of us if only we choose to open our eyes. So often we can become lost in our own worries and woes and fail to notice the simple joys infront of us. Frankl believed in a ‘tragic optimism’. That is to say it’s impossible to feel positive all the time, and in fact it’s okay not to. But you must choose to embrace an unflinching optimism in the face of adversity. Simply put, he says we can’t control our situations. However, we can control how we choose to react to them. Or as he more eloquently put;

“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom”.  

 I used to abide by this a lot during tough times, and I’m glad Frankl found his way back to me via this podcast. I really needed the reminder. Currently I’m at sunset beach by the Burj Al Arab. It’s a beautiful place to contemplate. I feel like the beach has a way of slapping the sadness out of you, whether you like it or not. I love the beach. The beach doesn’t judge. The beach is full of wonderful moments between people and things. The sound of waves relentlessly crashing against rocks and shells. The feel of the rough sand grains forcing their way into every crevice imaginable. The sweet laughter between a father and son as he teachers him to surf. Couples holding hands and taking pictures, likely to end up as timeless memories on mantles. A group of tourists taking a video of themselves reciting some sort of mantra that only they know.

  There’s a sort of stillness and complete awareness of the present moment when you’re standing in the sea. It’s like it washes over everything and forces you to pay attention. Yes – the beach is a special place. It’s loud and quiet at the same time. It’s chaotic but calm. It says sternly ‘ put the phone down and notice me’.  The beach doesn’t care if you’re 25 or 75. It doesn’t notice your weight, your shape, or your new sunglasses. The beach doesn’t care about your finances, your relationship status or your career. The beach doesn’t even know your name. But I guarantee you, if the beach was a person it would love you regardless. So today I want to thank the beach, for unknowingly wrapping me in a hug of perspective.

 “To escape and sit quietly on the beach – that’s my idea of paradise.” – Emilia Wickstead

COVID 19 Coping with the Chaos

Spring is coming. Flowers are starting to sprout, the weather is getting milder.

Yet it’s only three months into 2020, and these touch points of daily life are in sharp contrast with the overwhelming sense that our world is dramatically different.

I can safely say none of us imagined we’d be experiencing a global pandemic.

Over the past few months the coronavirus has rippled across the world with devastating effect. I’ll be the first to hold my hands up and say I was ignorant to the seriousness of it. When all this began I had flippant thoughts like ‘oh it’s an over-reaction’ ‘it’s not going to spread’. ‘We’ll be grand’.

But then it did spread. Fast. And suddenly it wasn’t grand. I feel as if I’m living through a very poignant time in history. Everywhere is closing and the world is on lockdown. Phrases like ‘social distancing’ ‘self isolation’ and ‘quarantine and chill’ are now top of our vocabulary.

I write this with two bottles of hand san next to me in a freshly disinfected apartment. Cleaners are coming by ever hour to wash the hallways and wipe down doors. Anywhere that is open is eerily quiet and you’re likely to be met with face masks, gloves and even more hand san. Supermarket aisles are scarily empty in some parts. The struggle for toilet roll is real.

There’s a fresh new anxiety associated with the faintest headache, sneeze, cough or throat tickle. Gone are the days of ‘bless you’, sneeze in public now and you’re guaranteed to be met with panicked stares and frantic scuttles away. Strange times we are living in.

I’m fortunate that the situation in the UAE hasn’t been as exacerbated until now. The government made the decision to close schools for a month from March 8th onwards. At the time there was less than 20 cases here. Not even two weeks later and we are in the 100s. Recently the country ordered bars and entertainment venues to close. Gyms have shut and events have been cancelled. As of today resident visa’s have been temporarily suspended for at least two weeks. That means anyone who left the UAE is now stuck and cannot re-enter until the government decides to lift the suspension. Some countries have completely sealed their borders, and in many flights in and out are heavily restricted.

It all feels very dystopian doesn’t it?  For a generation constantly on the go it’s tough to adjust to this new reality of life at a standstill. Not being able to give your grandmother a squeeze, see your friends at school, meet for a coffee or take your children to their favourite play area.

It’s been hard watching the situation unfold at home and feeling helpless thousands of miles away. But I know if I was home I would be equally as helpless. I called my nan the other day and the worry and sadness in her voice just broke my heart. For a woman always surrounded by her family and grandchildren to now be forced into prolonged isolation is truly gut wrenching. But we have to protect the most vulnerable in our society. As we’ve been hearing over and over again, In order to stick together we must pull apart.

My utmost respect and love goes out to those on the frontline fighting this virus first hand. Not only the exceptional health workers all over the world, but those in hospitality and retail. Cleaning staff and delivery drivers. Those who often get stick because their jobs are seen as ‘unskilled’. While the rest of the world is stepping back, they are stepping forward. When all of this over we owe them a great deal of gratitude.

I am also mindful of the self-employed. I have family with their own businesses who have been forced to close because of all this. I can only imagine the toll that takes not only financially, but emotionally.

I would urge anyone reading this to get out and support local when normality resumes. If you’re needing some beauty TLC when you emerge from quarantine these fab girls will be a great place to start:

Laura & Jayne: https://www.facebook.com/Signature-Hair-Salon-104624677633510/

Joanne: https://www.facebook.com/www.urbannails.ie/

Beauty Republic: https://www.facebook.com/beautyrepubliccarlow/

For food and drink it has to be my faves:

https://www.facebook.com/Mountain-View-Kilkenny-160687417310968/

I know this is an incredibly difficult time. You might have lost your job, or had to close your business. But I am a firm believer in the phrase ‘this too shall pass’.  Bad things never last forever.

Maybe in a strange way this is a sign for us all to slow down. To check in with ourselves and to just take a breather. As a lot of the memes have been saying, our grandparents were called to war. We’re being asked to sit on the couch, we got this! In all seriousness though, it is hard. But remaining positive and taking the right steps will help make things a little easier. We’ve heard it all before, but it’s so important to mind our mental health during this time. Cabin fever is real! Eat the chocolate, watch netflix. But do the home work out. Get out for the walk. Read the book. Facetime family. Organise your wardrobe. De clutter. Journal. Make an amazing playlist. Find a new podcast. Learn new recipes. Start a new language. Find one good thing about every day.

When all this is over I really believe we are going to have a newfound appreciation for the ordinary. The things we take for granted. The hugs. The coffee. The freshair. Cornavirus is tough, but we’re tougher.

I’ll leave you with this exceptionally poignant image published in The Times recently. Hopefully we can all give big squeezy hugs sooner rather than later. If I get home in the summer please god we’ll be on the other side of it, raising a few glasses. Until then stay safe.

Confessions of a KG Teacher

Ever wondered what life is like with 23 four year olds?

#1. I’ll be honest, I never in a million years thought I’d be teaching KG in the first place.

#2. Which coincidentally means I’m totally and completely winging it.

#3. Sometimes I have to sing the alphabet in my head to know what comes next…

#4. I probably cried more than the kids after my first day.

#5. My KG voice has infiltrated my personal life.

#6. Which means phrases such as “oopsie daisy” “Uh Oh!” “Sugar” and “OH MY GOODNESS” have become permanent fixtures in my vocabulary.

#7. Life always feels like it’s happening in song now.

#8. Theres a special place in my heart for the kids who don’t piss themselves.

#9. Hand sanitizer is my new best friend.

#10. I’m constantly finding glitter and stickers in every nook and cranny of my life.

#11. “One plus one is two!”

#12. Do you think I could cellotape them to their seats?

#13.

Can confirm.

#14. I have a new found respect for every teacher I’ve ever had. Actually I’d like to take this opportunity to formally apologise to them.

#15. 4 year olds are the biggest snitches alive. Ahmed will think he’s clever sneaking a bit of leftover lunch up his sleeve.. not before yousef is in there with the “miiiiiissss loooook”. Snakes in dis town boi.

#16. I’ve developed new levels of patience. Even when faced with the utmost stupidity. Like the time a kid got his head stuck between the handle bars of his wheely school bag. Or when another stuck a crayon up his nose and was sneezing blue goo for a week. (Both of which actually happened).

#17. Shapes have lost all meaning. Is it a triangle? A square? A circle? Honestly who knows anymore.

#18. Colouring will never not be fun.

#19. Kids are hilarious.

#20. There’s nothing quite like the ego boost of a hug and an “I love you miss”. Even if it is complete lick holery.

#21. Snots are not food.

#22. I have eyes at the back of my head.. no really.

#23. There is seldom as honest as a 4 year old.

#24. The chairs really are tiny. It’s a long way down and an even longer way back up..

#25. kids can paper cut just about anything.

#26. Invisible wounds are very real..”your finger is fine” “no you’re not bleeding” “there’s nothing there”

#27. I used to get flowers from boys, now I get given random objects and wilted plants from kids.

#28. I live in absolute terror of head lice.

#29. I do a little dance inside whenever the bad kids are absent.

#30. Despite it’s all, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of seeing a child learn, and knowing you helped facilitate that.

Heartbreak and Divilment in the Desert

Well hello there little blog of mine. It’s certainly been a long time. 16 months since my last post, this really has gone by the wayside hasn’t it?

I always seem to leave this go a while, and then whip it back out in times I feel a need to write. I guess this is one of those times.

Putting pen to paper (or in this case ink to screen?) has always helped me make sense of crazy life events. Ohh and I’ve certainly experienced some crazy turns these past few months! I guess it wouldn’t be me otherwise. Life likes to keep me on my toes. I think the writers of my script were getting bored..

I currently find myself going down a new twisty road that I definitely didn’t foresee.

I was on the fence about whether to write about this publicly or not. I suppose I still felt a sense of obligation to protect the person who hurt me the most. But then I realised, this is my truth. And I have every right to talk about it in whatever way I want, through whatever medium I want.

“If people wanted you to write warmly about them, then they should have behaved better” . 

So here goes, I’m laying it bare.

I should be in Canada right now, with my partner of 3 and a half years. Except he decided it would be more fun to lead a double life, cheat on me multiple times and pretend I didn’t exist for an entire year of our relationship. I won’t get into the gory details. He knows what he did, and the people closest to us know what he did. It’s not up to me to air dirty laundry on the internet.

So why am I writing this then? Well when someone hides your identity you develop this intense need to always ensure you’re heard. If I can help at least one person by sharing my experiences, well then I’m paying it forward, and that’s all I can ever hope to do.

I’m not going to lie, the whole thing fucking hurt. Of course it did. I never imagined that all the clichés about heartbreak would turn out to be true, but let me tell you they are. Just imagine two big hands reaching down your throat, travelling to your chest cavity, wrapping tightly around your heart and pulling at it until all you can feel is a hollow ache, until you don’t feel anything at all. No one deserves it. I wouldn’t even wish it on the person who inflicted it on me.

I never thought I would be on the receiving end of such shitty treatment. I thought I was smarter and that I would never pick someone like that. But some people are master manipulators. And those are the scariest. They glide through life exuding charm, confidence and charisma. They are the ones you least expect yet they are the ones capable of the most sinister. It didn’t take me very long to realise this wasn’t about me. I didn’t spend weeks feeling like I wasn’t pretty enough, funny enough or kind enough. I’ve built up enough self worth over the years to know that I am all those things and more. I have the strongest and fiercest network of loving people around to remind me of that too. A more vulnerable person may not have been so fortunate. Human emotions are so valuable. The greatest gift you can give someone is love, so to be so wreckless with another’s heart is straight up selfish.

Maybe it’s the times we live in. We’re just saturated in technology and social media now so maybe people think they can just get away with whatever they want? We’re more connected to our devices than to each other. It’s something I started thinking about more after speaking with my dad in the aftermath of my relationship breakdown. He started musing on the impact of social media, because the reality is it didn’t exist ‘back in his day’. IG likes, secret snaps, private Whatsapp groups and hiding every single picture of you and your girlfriend from your seedy  ‘LAD’ friends on FB, just wasn’t a thing. Imagine actively hiding your relationship for fear of not being liked or accepted? How fucking sad and pathetic is that? Imagine not wanting to show off the person you love to the world. That kind of behaviour is unacceptable and it will never make any sense to me. By all means do whatever you want, but be single in the process. Don’t drag another person through it.

In the immediate days after I unearthed all this, I discovered a poem that resonated so strongly with me.

“The peace lily is a flower that can grow and survive even if it’s left in the shade. From this I learned, we don’t always choose our environment, but we can’t let that stop us from blooming”.  

This popped up on my IG at such a pivotal moment. Deep in my hiding under a blanket and bawling my eyes out phase, it was the slap in the face I needed. I couldn’t control what happened. I didn’t have a choice in that. What I could control, and what I did have a choice in, was how I responded to it.

I decided then I wasn’t spending months wasting away crying and eating mountains of Ben & Jerry’s. Bridget Jones did enough of that for women everywhere. Truth is I’d actually been given a lifeline. I’d dodged a major bullet and by god was I thanking my lucky stars.  I still am. I am forever grateful I didn’t move half way across the world with a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I am blessed that I uncovered what I did while surrounded by such an amazing support system. Not alone in the depths of Canadian Winter.

So what did I do then? I moved half way across the world. By myself. To the Desert.

A lot of people have asked me “Why not go through with Canada? are you sad about that?”

The answer is both yes and no. Canada was always my second choice. Two years ago back in 2017 I wanted to move to Dubai. I put it on hold because he-who-shall-not-be-named got a job offer in the UK. I had recently moved back from a failed stint over there myself. I was gutted because I thought we were on the same page and we’d both been planning to head out to the Middle East that coming Autumn. So I was blindsided by this new spanner in the works. At the same time I had gone over to London and done my thing, so I felt I couldn’t really stand in the way of him giving it a try. So I was the supportive girlfriend. As I was for the best part of nearly 4 years. I shelved dreams so he could pursue his. What he was really doing was kicking the can down the road and making a fool of me in the process. I do have regrets about that. But at the same time it speaks volumes about my character and I’m not about to rewire my trust and compassion just because someone took advantage of it. I have however learned to always trust your gut and always chase your dreams.

I knew instantly I would never follow through with going to Canada. It was always Dubai. I was sad for the idea of what could have been. But it was only ever an illusion. Nobody wants to live life through the looking glass.

So here I am, nearly 7 weeks in the U.A.E. teaching  Kindergarteners and actually enjoying it (the biggest curveball of all if you ask me!) The girl who often proclaims she’s ‘allergic to children’ responsible for 22 of them..

Kids are funny though. They have this amazing way of bringing you back down to earth. Sometimes you just need to talk to a 4 year old so you can understand life again! I’ve met some lovely people in such a short space of time and I can’t help but feel I’m exactly where I need to be. I’m making plans to travel the world, I’m laughing, I’m trying new things and I’m just taking it day by day.

If you’re reading this and are going through something, just know that hearts take time to heal. But everything heals eventually, always.

Every experience, no matter how dark, is an opportunity to learn. Right now i’m spending time with the most important person in my life, me. I’m loving myself and growing in new ways and that’s all I can ever hope for.

You can love fiercely and then you can have nothing at all. And that’s okay. Until it’s time to love again 😉

Until the next crazy story,

Jess x

A poem for her

I have been thinking about (and speaking about) this referendum a lot over the past few months. I put some of the feelings I’ve been having into the below poem. I have never experienced any of these things, I just tried to put myself in her shoes. I hope I haven’t done anyone a disservice, or trivialized any of the scenarios in any way.

I hope the people of Ireland look into their hearts on May 25th, and finally make this country a safer place for its women.

~

She takes the test, two lines appear
Nervous anxious gripped with fear
She wasn’t ready for this, it’s not the time
She can’t do anything about it, because in this country it’s a crime.

For months he’s beaten her, black, and blue.
Is it fair to subject a child to this too?
She doesn’t want anything else to tie her to this man
She’s desperate, scared and willing to do anything she can.

She orders an illegal box online
The pills arrive.
Shaking, she tells herself it’ll be fine.
Alone she takes them, on the advice that she will bleed.
A prisoner of her own body, she waits to be freed.

She’s not the only example that much is true,
Oh yes, there are many others too.

The expectant couple full of joy,
Happily looking forward to their little girl or boy.
“There’s nothing we can do, the baby has a fetal abnormality”
Shock and disbelief etched on their faces, surely this cannot be reality?
“How can I carry this baby knowing it will die?”
The doctor turns his back, unable to look her in the eye.
“You have options, but we can’t help you here”
The woman can’t quite believe her ear.
Abandoned by Ireland, tossed out by the state
Sent across the waters to deal with her fate.

It’s either that or wait for nature to take its course,
A smile for all the well wishers she must force.
No empathy, care or compassion.
Sweeping it under the rug in true Irish fashion.

Forcing wombs to become walking tombs

Then there’s the woman, the victim of sexual assault
Forced to carry her attacker’s child,
Sure it isn’t the little babies fault!
At the end of the day it’s a precious life,
Ireland doesn’t care about her personal strife.
No. she must become an incubator
For the life of the fetus is far greater.
The church tell us to vote no -“love both” they say
While 12 women are forced abroad a day.

Let me be frank:
They put our women in laundries and our babies in a septic tank.
Unmarked graves, lies cover ups and deceit
They would rather abortions stay unsafe and back street.

“She” is your mother, sister, daughter, friend
It’s time we stopped punishing tragedy, it has to end.
We won’t go out and abort enmasse, trust us to make our own decision.
That’s not the sort of Ireland any of us envision.
Women are not irresponsible, careless or inhumane
Please don’t continue to let the 8th cause us pain.
You might not agree with abortion, or ever have one, and that’s okay.
But someone, somewhere might badly need one someday.
Vote yes on May 25th and repeal the eighth.
Our bodies should no longer be up for debate.

 

#IBelieveHer –

Yesterday was a sad day for rape victims. The jury returned a not guilty verdict in the Belfast Rape case brought against 4 Ulster & Ireland rugby players. (I can’t even bring myself to type their names). I was sitting in a coffee shop on my lunch when I heard the news, and honestly I felt sick reading about it. Not only that, but I felt angry, and afraid. You might think that’s a bit dramatic, but rest assured it’s a scary time to be a woman in Ireland.

Regardless of whether people believe the men did it or not, the way they treated the woman, and spoke about her in their group chat afterwards was downright disgusting. Their behaviour towards another human being despite being “guilty” or “not guilty” was horrible. These men should not be celebrated. It’s clear as day their attitude to women is vile, one only has to read the excerpts from their Whatsapp messages to know that.

What’s even more concerning is seeing so many grown men (and women) celebrate this ‘win’ and vilify the girl further on social media. Some of the comments I’ve read in the wake of all this is not only disgusting, but frightening. I don’t want to draw more  attention to the filth that’s going around by reposting it here, but a quick glance on Twitter and Facebook and the contempt is plain for all to see.

This girl did everything right. She was raped. She went to a clinic afterwards, she reported it. She stood up for herself, she did all of the right things. And yet. She spent 9 weeks reliving her ordeal, having her life ripped apart and scrutinised, every past sexual encounter analysed. She was slut shamed, accused of lying for attention, you name it.

We need to remember that the grounds to convict for rape beyond reasonable doubt are astronomical. Not guilty, does not mean innocent. Innocent is not the opposite of guilty in the context of a courtroom. That’s why it’s “beyond a reasonable doubt”. That’s why women go through all of this and still end up without a conviction, it does not mean they aren’t telling the truth. So many rapes go unreported, and what’s heartbreaking is so many more women will refrain from coming forward after yesterday’s verdict.

I was feeling such anguish yesterday, I can only imagine what the victim herself is feeling. I felt so helpless, heartbroken for her, and so very ashamed of the system. I decided to pen these emotions into the below poem. I just hope one day we can start doing better.

 

They took turns treating her like a piece of meat.

She bravely faced them in court.

But today, justice was met with defeat.

What’s this they said “she got spit roasted?”

Sure last night was “hilarious” “love

Belfast sluts”, they boasted.

 

Meanwhile she’s broken, bruised, in tears and afraid

Hoping and praying that soon the ordeal, from her memories will fade.

“No one will believe me, sure it’s their word against mine”

“I won’t report it, I’ll forget it, move on, it will be fine”.

 

Somehow she found the strength to go on and peruse,

Not knowing that 8 men & 3 women would not believe it to be true

9 weeks she spent cross examined under fire

3 hours it took, to deem her a liar.

The Island of Ireland has had its say

The boys are innocent! she’s a slut!

Let’s call it a day.

 

Only they’re not, she isn’t, and it’s not good enough

Getting a rape conviction should never be this tough.

It doesn’t matter who she slept with today yesterday or before,

For this she did not consent, she did not ask for.

She was vilified, discredited and torn asunder.

“80% of rape victims don’t report”

It’s no wonder.

The jury suspected reasonable doubt

But I stand by her, I believe her, and to that I will shout.

I want her to know she’s not alone,

Love and solidarity from her fellow sisters, will always be shown.

-J

The Beast from The East.

I love this little island of ours. The first sign of bad weather and the country goes into melt down, panic buying every bit of bread in sight. You’ve got to laugh. We’re a funny bunch, but I wouldn’t change us for the world.

I’m thoroughly enjoying the snaps of breadless shoping aisle’s across the country. The banter when we are faced with difficult weather conditions is mighty. We saw it almost 10 years ago when the ‘Big Freeze’ hit, and a mere couple of months ago during Storm Ophelia. Now it’s happening again as the ‘Beast from the East’ approaches. You wonder if something so comically named could possibly live up to it’s implied magnitude? The nation is preparing itself nonetheless. I mean how many other countries would start selling sliced pans on done deal in the wake of a weather emergency? 

Not a bad offer to be fair. Here’s what one of my own local shops looked like last night:

All of the commotion inspired me to pen a little rhyme earlier on today.

 

 The weather man says it’s going to be worse than eighty two
But with the sun shining out there how can it be true?
We sit and tentatively wait for this beast,
While shops are raided for our snow storm feast.

Indeed there’s nare a sliced pan to be seen,
A sign the panicked Irish man has been!
We’ll have enough Brennan’s to last the coming year,
But better that then run out, Christ imagine the fear!

Best bring in the sticks to keep the fire lit,
Remember, you wouldn’t be long about getting frostbit!
The kids are hoping the schools will close,
Looking for a carrot for the snowman’s nose.

Thersea Mannion warns not to travel far,
No unnecessary journeys are to be taken in that car!
Sure we better heed the advice, and keep inside
Nothing to do but let it all subside.

Fair play to all braving the cold,
But be sure to remember the homeless & the old.
Be safe, be warm and do have fun,
We’ll stick it out together till we see more sun.

If anyone needs me I’ll be huddled up by the fire awaiting my Pulitzer prize! In all seriousness though, do keep safe and warm and if you get a chance go out and build a snow man or too! It might be 40 odd year before we see the likes of it again… I’ll go now, but not before leaving you with a few gems.

My Mental Health Story – #WMHD

So today is World Mental Health Day. To be honest I kind of feel like every day should be mental health day. We should be aware and looking after our minds everyday, but unfortunately it’s one of those things we are still so reluctant to address. With that being said I’d like to think we’re getting better.

It’s like whenever have any problems with our mental health we put them in a box, shove them to the back of the shelf, let them gather dust and just hope they go away. They never do. I don’t know about you, but I know I’m certainly guilty of that. I try to ignore the problem until it stops being one. I’m trying to get better at not doing that. Last month I went on a couple of training days through work, and I was lucky enough to become certified in Mental Health First Aid. (Yes believe it or not, it’s a thing!). It’s actually a very good thing. The course taught us how to recognise when someone is experiencing mental health difficulties, or in crisis, and how to respond. It was so insightful, not only did it equip me with the resources to help someone in trouble, it also taught me a lot about my own mental health, and how to help myself.

One thing they echoed throughout the course is that we all have mental health. Just like we have physical health. It’s only when it turns to “mental illness” that we become cagey. There’s a lot of negative connotations associated with the term mental illness isn’t there? It’s like our brains default to all the bad things associated with it. It’s like we are afraid of being labelled. Mental health professionals always use the broken leg analogy to make sense of this. I know we’ve all heard it a million and one times, but it’s so true. If you broke your leg you’d have no hesitation about going to the doctor to get it fixed. So why the reluctance when we’re not feeling the best emotionally? How come we don’t talk about when we’re anxious? or lonely? or depressed? Why is there such a fear?

I didn’t really suffer with my own mental health until I was about 18/19. I mean I had your typical teenage angst, but outside of that I was pretty happy go lucky.  I’ve spoken about this a hundred times before, so apologies if I sound like a broken record. Those of you who know me/read my blogs are probably familiar with this story already, but for the day that’s in it I’d like to elaborate more. I experienced a bad bout of depression the year before I started college. My drink was spiked badly the night of my 18th Birthday and it had a pretty bad knock on effect. I collapsed the day after as it never worked it’s way out of my system. It essentially caused a really bad chemical imbalance in my brain. Anyway, I was taken to hospital where they found traces of LSD and a concoction of other stuff, in what I can only assume was some hideous date rape drug. I’m still counting my lucky stars I never wandered away from my friends that night. I naively assumed at he time that afterwards, life would go back to normal. Only it was far from normal.

I was so low after what happened me. I was angry, sad, lonely, confused. I had this emptiness in my chest and stomach that I couldn’t account for. Things were so different. It sounds dramatic, but I no longer felt like the person I was prior to what happened. I felt it had changed everything about me, knocked all my confidence and made me a shadow of my former self. It was decided I would take a year out before starting college. Something which was never even close to being on my radar at the time.

I had to go on a steroid based tablet to restore the chemical balance in my brain. These tablets were not fun let me tell you. A long with putting you back together, they also make you pile on weight. And for an 18 year old girl who was used to being a size 8-10 it might as well have been the end of the world. So there I was. At home, about 2 stone heavier, watching all my friends move on and start college and feeling absolutely terrified of life.

I had never experienced such a lowly feeling before. It’s something my present self now comes to recognise as depression. I was depressed. As grim as it sounds, the only time I felt peace was when I was asleep. I’d dread waking up because that feeling would be there, waiting. Those around me kept telling me it would get better, but what did they know? They weren’t feeling like this. How could they possibly know? I honestly thought I was doomed to feel this way forever. Suddenly things that I had no issues with before were becoming an extreme source of anxiety. For instance, I’d fret about meeting up with a friend for days leading up to it. I’d worry about completely irrational things, like not having anything to say, or them thinking I was stupid. I started worrying about those close to me dying. I worried I’d never be able to go to college, that I’d become this lonely recluse.

So, how did I get better? Tbh, looking back I don’t think those tablets I was on helped at all. I think they had a lot of undesirable side effects that actually proved counter productive to what they were trying to do in the first place. Nonetheless, doctors orders. I was on them for 7 months. Things slowly started improving when I came off them. In April of that year, a good friend asked if I wanted to go on an inter-rail around Europe. The ‘old Jess’ would’ve been jumping for joy. This new Jess? Cowering in fear! However, my family really encouraged me to go, so I did. I mean I was terrified, but it ended up being the best thing I ever did. I completely pushed myself out of my newfound comfort zone and it was the perfect medicine. I came back after the 3 weeks and the change in me was remarkable. I finally started to feel a bit like my old self. My spark was returning. I went to college two months later, joined the gym, made new friends and life slowly returned to ‘normal’.

I’m aware it’s not as ‘miraculous’ for everyone. But the point is, it does get better. It always gets better. People were telling me it would, but in my lowest moments I just couldn’t see the light. But it was there, it just took me a little while to get to it. And that’s okay. If you happen to be reading this and you’re feeling a little lost, or hopeless, please know you’re worth a whole lot more than you’re feeling right now. The voice inside your head is wrong, it will get better.

Looking back almost 7 years on, I am grateful for the experience. As horrible and all as it was at the time. It taught me a lot about myself and about life. We all go through dark times. I’m sorry for the incredibly cliché ball of cheese that’s about to come, but I think it really did make me stronger. I became better equipped to handle the different things life has thrown at me since. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m by no means invincible. I just gained invaluable insight and perspective. I get the odd bad day like everyone else. I struggle with anxiety from time to time, but I do my best to keep a handle on it. I talk when I need to talk, I write when I need to write, and I cry when I need to cry. I just wanted to share this little story in the hopes that it might be a source of comfort to some who are going through a rough time.

Then again, I might be completely self serving and the world wide web might not give a shit. Either way, it’s out there. Look after yourselves.

~J

 

Long time no see

Hello little old blog of mine. God, it’s been a long time! Not sure if I’ve been too busy to write, or too lazy. It’s probably the latter in all honesty, but I’m going to compromise with a combination of both.

I’ve missed writing my random rants and musings regularly. I’m going to make an effort to revive this more (is it too early for a new year’s resolution!?). The last time I posted it was in the wake of the Manchester terror attack. Sadly, just a few days ago America witnessed a horrific mass shooting in Las Vegas. 50 dead and 500 or so injured. I wish I could say things have changed on the terror front, but 5 months on the world is still as desolate as ever.

In more positive news, (depending on how you look at it), I’ve gained an extra year of life since I last wrote. So 24, how’s she looking so far? You may recall many of my posts last year were riddled with post college uncertainty. Well you’ll be glad to know, I’m slowly coming to terms with my newfound ‘adulthood’. I actually paid off my student overdraft last week, hoorah! All by myself, no help or handouts. That was a nice feeling 🙂 I wasn’t in huge debt or anything, but it was nice to be in a position to do that and to finally feel somewhat financially independent. Career wise I’m on to job numero 3. I know right, talk about all over the shop. It’s actually been a great learning experience and I can officially report that the 3rd time is a charm 😉 I’m a firm believer in going after what’s right for you and figuring out what makes you happy. So what if that takes you 10 different jobs?

I wrote a post back in March shortly after moving back from London. I spoke of my excitement about job number 2 and how it felt right etc etc. Let’s just say thank god it was only a 3 month contract. It’s funny how your intuition can be so off. I had a pretty lowly 3 months. The job didn’t live up to a single thing it promised whatsoever. So I found myself looking at other options yet again. I booked myself a TEFL course and decided that was my next move, get out, get abroad and teach English. I think I also wrote a post detailing those desires. But of course life got in the way once more, when my lovely other half landed himself his first teaching job in London.

The irony eh? His job ended up being 10-15 minutes from the area in London where I used to live. You couldn’t write it. At this point I felt a bit like life was taunting me. Throwing up bricks in the way of every plan I tried to make, laughing meretriciously along the way. So we were back in a long distance situation once again and I was facing that all too familiar feeling of What the fuck am I gonna do now?  Luckily I didn’t have to wait too long before another opportunity presented itself.  I was actually offered another job before I finished out my other contract.

I’m now working for an High School Exchange Year program with a company called EF. We bring in students from all over the world to spend a year living in Ireland and going to an Irish secondary school. I handle the social media/marketing side of things, as well as finding and screening new host families. It’s genuinely so interested and rewarding.

Finally I can say I’m working for a company I really care about and one that cares about me in return. In August we spent two weeks in Maynooth with 70 of our students who signed up to a welcome camp. The camp was designed to prepare them for their year in Ireland as well as combining lots of fun activities. While there was a bit of cabin fever, it was so much fun and it was something different. I mean how many jobs offer you the chance to spend a Monday afternoon milking cows and jumping into a bog with 70 international teenagers?

 

I get to travel a lot with it too, which is great. Right after Christmas we are taking some students to London for a week, and in April we’re going to Edinburgh. Which will be nice, seeing as I’ve never been! We also recently found out that all offices worldwide get to go to Cancun at the end of January. We’ve already broken out the sombreros..

Okay I’ll stop gloating now.. all in all despite the set backs things are good right now. I fly over and back to London around once or twice a month, and on the weekends I’m not there Tom flies back. I mean it’s not a dream situation, but we made it work when I was there, so it’s only fair we make it work now that he’s there. We’ll see where the next adventure takes us in six months or so.

🙂

~J

Thoughts on Terror

Recent happenings in the world have left me feeling very angry and confused. I wasn’t going to blog anything about it, but I’ve found in the last two weeks it’s all I can think about. It might be somewhat cathartic to get it out, so here goes.

I am of course referring to the recent terror attacks in Manchester and London. On May 22nd Salman Abedi a horrific monster, detonated a deadly nail bomb as thousands of young people were leaving the MEN after Ariana Grande’s concert. 22 people lost their lives, among them 7 children, the youngest being just 8. Many more were seriously and critically injured. And for what? So one evil extremist could carry out a senseless attack under the influence of the most cowardly and despicable ideology.

A mere 12 days later, in London, 3 more monsters carried out yet another fatal attack. They drove a van into innocent pedestrians on London Bridge, before going on to stab and slash others at Borough Market. 7 people lost their lives, and some 50 others were again seriously injured.  As was the case with Manchester, the stories of the victims are quickly emerging. One woman, Chrissy Archibald died in the arms of her fiance. Another victim, James McMullan had been out celebrating the completion of a business project that he had dedicated all of his time to for two years.

What is exceptionally poignant about this, is the fact that these people probably expressed the same shock and sympathy for the Manchester victims less than two weeks before they met the same tragic end. I just cannot fathom it.

I spent 3 hours on Sunday evening, like many I’m sure, absolutely engrossed in the One Love Manchester concert. Ariana Grande’s sheer courage and strength in the face of something so awful was a source of comfort to many. The whole concert was such a beautiful display of love and solidarity. I am just in complete awe of this woman. She could have hidden away, she could have stopped performing for a very long time. No one would have blamed her. But she didn’t. Instead she brought some of the biggest names in music together in direct defiance to these evil atrocities. Even after another horrifying terror attack occurred on the eve of the concert, she still carried on. She spent the days in the run up to the event visiting her injured fans in hospital, and meeting with the friends and families of those who sadly passed away.  I mean what an incredible feat of bravery. If it were me, I honestly don’t know how I would pick myself back up.

The one thing we are hearing time and time again in the wake of these attacks is that we shouldn’t let hate win. And I agree 100%. The concert on Sunday night restored everything these vile jihadists do their best to extinguish, love, happiness and unification. Though everything is scary and uncertain, we can’t stop going about our lives out of fear. It’s exactly what they want.

With that being said, something needs to be done. Our solidarity in the aftermath of these tragedies simply just isn’t enough. It’s not enough for politicians to spew us the same rhetoric over and over again while we sit back and just wait for the inevitable. They are telling us hate won’t win, but at the moment it kind of is. So many innocent lives have been lost and it’s happening at an increasingly frequent and alarming rate. It’s not a case of if anymore, it’s a case of when and where. We are often told not to be angry. And I get where people are coming from with that,  “reacting in a similar way to these extremists is exactly what they want”, but I don’t entirely agree. At the end of the day all these cowards want to do is kill, and they are succeeding. So I’m sorry, but that makes me fucking angry.

What makes me even angrier is the fact that many of these attackers were known to police and intelligence services?! Members of Salman Abedi’s community had expressed their concerns over his apparent radicalization and extremist views to the police. Yet nothing was done. Salman was allowed to carry on as normal. Similarly, Kurham Butt actually appeared on a channel 4 documentary ‘The Jihadists Next Door’ which details the rise of Islamist Extremism in the UK. In the show, Butt was seen praying with a group of extremists in Regents Park, and fraternising with a man who warned that one day the flag of ISIS would fly over Downing Street. Other members of Butt’s circle expressed the views that homosexual’s should be thrown from tall buildings, Britain should adopt Sharia Law, and adulterers should be stoned to death.

Why channel 4 are even giving these vile creatures a platform is beyond me!  How are we allowing these dangerous groups to propagate? What’s more is it’s also been claimed that Butt was reported to anti- terror groups on two separate occasions. One neighbour seemingly reported him after she caught him trying to convert her children to Islam and radicalise them. I mean I’m no expert on these matters, but surely that’s a gross failure on the part of those who are supposed to protect us?

How are these people slipping through the cracks when their evil intent is so inherently obvious? Who’s bright idea was it to make a TV show highlighting these monsters, allowing them to brag, instead of reprimanding them for it? I just don’t understand. I get that in most cases these extremists can be hard to infiltrate, but turning a blind eye to the ones that are right in front of us, in my opinion, is unforgivable.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to take away from the brilliance of the police and the emergency services, I mean the Met had responded to the attack in London in 8 minutes. That’s incredible. We just need more preventative measures. I’m not suggesting we close boarders or build walls or anything like that, but we need real action. Whatever form that comes in is up to the world leaders we’ve put our trust in. They just cannot continue to let us fall victim to attack after attack.

The fact is no one should go to a concert and not return home. No one should go out for a drink and have it end in tragedy. It needs to stop.