Louise O'Neill: 'We have to take our joy where we can find it right now'
Louise O'Neill: 'Reach out and ask for your needs to be met.' Picture: Moya Nolan
A good friend of mine sent me a lovely present for my birthday. When I texted him to say thank you – adding “I can’t believe you remembered!” – he replied, “well, it was flagged in the National Press on Saturday. Thankfully. Otherwise, I would have forgotten.”
It was later that day when my accountant phoned to discuss something business related and he ended our call by wishing me a happy birthday, I realised that I might have gone slightly over the top by writing a column in this paper, specifying the exact date (I may as well have titled the piece “Why My Boyfriend Will Never Forget My Birthday” by Louise O’Neill, a friend commented).
I was especially surprised when a number of cards arrived from Irish Examiner readers. To Donal and Norma, I say thank you. To Noreen, who sent flowers, I say thank you! And to Fintan, who sent Haribo and Lindt because I said those were my favourites, I say thank you too. I mean, I’m mortified but I don’t know if there are enough words in this column to express how touched I was by your kindness. When I think about people like you all, who would go out of their way to try and make a stranger’s day a little brighter, and my faith in humanity has been restored.
I mentioned in that article that I don’t ordinarily like to make a fuss of my birthday. I list off my reasons – February is second only to January in terms of grimness, people have sworn off sweets and alcohol for Lent so there’s craic to be had, and no one really cares about your birthday as an adult unless there’s a 0 at the end of it – but I wonder, too, if I’ve been embarrassed by the idea of being the centre of attention because I haven’t felt worthy of it.
The thought of gathering a crowd people together in my name, people who are busy and have demanding lives, it just struck me as somewhat self-centred. But this year, I asked my friends and family to make an effort. There were balloons and presents and flowers, there was homemade Victoria sponge with a candle proclaiming my new age as 36 (I did a double take and almost told my mother she’d made a mistake, surely, I was only 28?). My parents talked about their memories of when I was born, the rush to the hospital, how everyone on the local football team knew I must have been born when my father failed to turn up for an important match that Sunday.
It couldn’t have come at a better time. During a session with my therapist a week before, she suggested I might be exhibiting depressive behaviours. I had explained to her that I felt disengaged, that I couldn’t seem to find pleasure or muster up much interest in anything. I felt tired all the time and all I wanted to do was sleep, and I felt as if I was trudging through each day – work, walk, cook dinner, sleep, work, walk, cook dinner, sleep, over and over again. In Marian Keyes’ latest newsletter, she wrote that it was interesting to see how she was coping with this seemingly unending series of lockdowns.
“I’m not longer angry or hopeful or anything really,” she said, “instead I seem to have managed to muffle most of my emotions and have selected a state of joyless low-level- depressed endurance as my default setting.” This instantly resonated with me. I think I have been muting my feelings as a defence mechanism, in case the loneliness and weariness would overcome me and I lay down and never got back up again. I had hit the proverbial wall and this strategy seemed to be the only way I could get through it but the problem is, that in stifling the negative emotions, I had numbed out to the positive ones too. Life began to feel bleak and I couldn’t quite seem to shake it off. So my birthday, with its reminder of how wonderful the people in my life are – including you, the readers of this column! – was so incredibly uplifting. I don’t know who might need to see this today, who has a birthday or anniversary fast approaching, but I want to give you this advice. Celebrate it! Of course, it’ll be smaller than you had anticipated; I only saw my immediate family on the day. But buy the balloons and bake the cake and send the card. Reach out and ask for your needs to be met. We have to take our joy where we can find it right now.
The Storm Keepers’ Battle, the final book in Catherine Doyle’s Storm Keeper Trilogy, is a must buy if you know any child between the ages of 7-12. Set on the island of Arranmore, these books are about magic and memory, love and loss, and are told with humour, heart, and warmth.
Made in Cork: Play it by Ear. This is a collection of nine rehearsed readings, all chosen to celebrate the wealth of creative talent Cork has to offer. Available until March 31 st on everymancork.com
