"I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly."
It’s been a while, Substack! Unfortunately, February and most of my March have been taken up by recovery from a pretty gnarly surgery. I’ve been living off audiobooks (the usual serial killer fayre and as a basic white woman, Strangers was a must - am I right?) and trying not to become a Charlotte Perkins Gilman protagonist, watching the walls.
Zoë and I had long since booked our escape from the city for St. Patrick’s Day, staying in a gorgeous thatched cottage off the coast of Wexford. The weather was changeable, but the joy of waking up on 17th March and having a beach all to ourselves was unparalleled.
We did very little on this break but walk, read and sleep. Zoë is someone I can sit in silence with for hours and it never feels uncomfortable. And despite her superlative taste in niche and arthouse films, some of my favourite moments with Zoë are when we watch crappy 90s films or house renovation programmes together. We did this a lot on our few days away!
Last week, I turned 41. LOL. But it’s OK. I’ve got this. The crazy thing is, I feel like a child. I’ve honestly never felt more silly and unknowing, like a fresh lamb discovering the world every day. Even when lying in a sickbed; curiosities, passions, laughter, incredulity - these traits drive me.
I did decide that I needed a bit of a refresh and have gone slightly blonde(!) in anticipation of hot-Dublin-girl-summer. If you’ve never been, I think it’s fair to say that Dublin, from November - February is a dark dank depressing dungeon. But when that sunshine hits, even in the cold changeable days of spring, somehow we all forget the darkness and the city just lights up. I live for Dublin summers - sitting outside on Drury Street, having a crisp glass of wine after work in Frank’s, heading out to Seapoint and swimming and eating ice-cream until 10pm. The smell of freshly-cut grass, going to Croke Park for a game, lying in Phoenix Park all day on blankets with a dog-eared book.
Celebrating my birthday felt important this year because of losses I’ve experienced over the last one, and my own unhealth. And even though the voice inside me that worries I annoy people with my friendship is still there (and will likely never go away), I wanted to take the leap and be proactive and let people know I think they’re cool, that they are important to me and that I want to grow and nurture our friendships.
Yes, I’ve been incinerated by many relationships thus far on the journey of life, but I’m here, still standing, still open - maybe a little more discerning - but open. Right now, in this present moment, looking at the below image after a delicious Lebanese birthday feast, I’m so grateful and happy to know such fantastic, vibrant, interesting, kind people and to have my cup filled by the life I’m living.
The scale of violence and terror being wreaked on Iran and Lebanon, the rampaging of settlers in the West Bank in Palestine; the murder of yet another woman in the north of Ireland signalling the epidemic of violence against woman and girls in our communities… it’s overwhelming. It’s hard to live a day-to-day life with these brutalities being committed. It’s hard to accept the cowardice of the Irish government repeatedly allowing US warplanes to land in Shannon, Starmer allowing “defensive” use of British sites in West Asia (when America/Israel is the aggressor!) and just waiting on the UK to slip into more complicity as the weeks go by.
What can we do in the midst of such depravity? I don’t have any answers.
Sometimes I fall back on asking myself, “is it productive” as a mechanism for clarity. Is it productive for me to centre myself and my feelings in the face of world violence? No. Is it productive for me to take actionable steps to support what I can within my relationships and communities, being the change I want to see? Yes.
Supporting my friend and colleague Dr. Lorraine Grimes was something that helped me feel that I was being productive, useful and participating in something greater than myself. Lorraine’s achievement, the publication of her important book “Single Mothers in Twentieth-century Ireland and Britain” is a significant one. Her work details the lived experiences of women, men, and children who were forcibly removed, harmed and stigmatised by the Catholic Irish State. At her recent book launches in Galway and Dublin, Lorraine shared the stage with survivors of institutional abuses, many of whom fled Ireland and still grapple with the harms inflicted on them by the State.
The event was beautifully organised, and the sense of community was really apparent. From Lorraine’s family being there, to the women in attendance asking sensitive and empathy-led questions, to the care taken of survivors - and of course the obligatory communal bonding of a few pints in the pub afterwards: Lorraine’s launch felt like a really important, restorative, and healing moment for many.
As I make my way back to health, I’m excited to stand a bit more in my self and to be more relaxed and chill about trying out new things. In April, I’m going away to a writing retreat in Kerry and while some of the five days will be spent working on a re-draft of an academic article and plotting a non-fic coffee-table book, I am going to take some time and dedicate myself to creative writing.
When she was ten or eleven, Sylvia Plath wrote “I write only because I have a voice within me, that will not be still.” Bar one short story over a decade ago, I’ve spent my life writing academic and dry words. I’ve avoided stepping into the creative realm, of taking that step and putting pen to paper. And yet there is a voice within me that will not be still. I approach this with extreme humility! But also - why are we here on this planet if not to inhabit ourselves? I’ll give it a try.
Here’s what I’ve been listening to / wearing / reading over the past few weeks :)
‘Return of the White-Tailed Eagle’ by Alice Boyd.
The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot.
Fab as always Maeve. Sorry to hear you’ve been unwell - sending you lots of love and good thoughts as you recover. Go easy on yourself, any type of surgery is no joke!
The blonde really suits you, and so great to read about your writing retreat! What a great experience to go on. Hope you enjoy xo
💕