2018; it was what it was

I've tried to start this post numerous times at this point but I'm rusty and emotional but I feel the urge to do it as I need to sign off on 2018 and move on.

I started the year like any other year with the usual "new year, new me" bull. I was going to go to the gym more, I was going to quit vaping, I was going to drink less, I was stop giving Pizza Dog a huge chunk of my salary... But in the space of a 90 second phone call all my plans meant nothing.

My dad passed away on January 12th. That's a sentence I find hard to say. I have to keep repeating it to myself to make it real... And yet, I'm not sure it ever will be.

He wasn't sick. He was only 52. He had plans for the future.

It didn't make sense and it still doesn't.

Due to circumstances, I grew up with my grandparents but my dad was a constant. He was in the US Air Force and so travelled a lot but the Saturday phone calls were a highlight. And every Christmas, my brothers and I would wait at the dining room window to wait for him to come home. Christmas was the one time of year where I was guaranteed to see him. To me, he was Santa.

Dad was clever, funny, kind, generous, loving, and always there. He may not have been great for the "emotional rub down" (as he put it) but he was there and would listen. I want to write more about him but I can't find the right words. I'm not sure I could ever encapsulate just how amazing he was and how much he meant to me.

My dad was my hero. I long for the day where I can allow myself to think enough to feel the ghost of his protective arm around my shoulders.

In March, my beloved Grandpa passed away. Not many people get the chance to know their grandparents in the way I did and I'm so grateful I got to spend as much time as I did with them.

My Grandpa was a massive influence on my life. The only person in my whole life who could really get my temper to kick off. He would wind me up and then sit back smiling when I would go on my rampage (we lived in the middle of nowhere so it really was a case of finding fun wherever you
could!).

He idolised my grandmother and my fondest memories are watching the Rose of Tralee with him and him changing the name "Mary" to "Bridie" and giving me a cheeky grin afterwards.

Such tiny moments in time that bring me such needed joy now.

You know when you're a kid and your parents are telling you to turn off the TV or to go to bed and all you can say is "Just 5 more minutes!"? That's how I feel. Just five more minutes to say what I wish I had said. Just 300 seconds to immerse myself in them, fully breathe in their scents so I don't forget, get the music of their voices stuck in my head so that I never forget their melody, wrap myself in the protection of their arms so tightly that my body will remember even when my mind doesn't.

Five more minutes.

But as my dad always sang at me "You can't always get what you want". Infuriatingly true.

I am lucky though. I have a wonderful mother in Julie, a beautiful family, and a circle of friends who bring me back to life even in my darkest moments.

I spent most of this year trying not to feel. All of the emotions filed away to only be looked at another day; another day which I'd hoped would never come.

I thought I was doing a good job of it. Fully immersing myself in the safety of work, I was fine... Until I wasn't.

I took part in the Dublin marathon for the 3rd time this year and I thought this would be the chance to
let the filing cabinet burst open. The previous two times I did the marathon, everything I had gone through came out and I cried and the relief... Oh the relief. This year, however, I crossed that line listening to the Rocky soundtrack (my dad trained for the Air Force to this) holding my dad's dog tags and I felt... nothing. I was numb. There was no moment of joy at having beaten my previous times, there was no crying, there was no relief.

I got home and that's when I broke.

Sitting in a bath, I broke and cried out everything I had been keeping it (this image is either extremely poetic or extremely pathetic...).

I couldn't fight it anymore. I was too tired to fight it. I went to therapy and, for the first time, I was honest about everything. I opened up for real and let it all out; getting out of bed is difficult, I can't find my joy, the dark thoughts... everything.

I was signed off work for two weeks by my doctor and I have never felt so weak. I am great with mental health when it comes to other people but me? Depressed? Never!

Not being able to get out of bed is just being lazy. Breaking down crying is just being dramatic. Not wanting to see people is just being selfish. Cancelling things that have been committed to is the worst thing a person can do. Taking time off work means any effort put in to rise up was all for nothing.

Yeah. All of the things you would never say to anyone else if they were going through it.

Before I hit this particular bottom of the barrel, I did something without thinking. I had gone for a run and while I was in the shower afterwards I realised just how much I miss the stage. I got out of the shower and booked a venue before I could talk myself out of it.

So there was I was, signed off work for two weeks, stressed about everything and anything, and I had added this other thing to worry about.  But it wasn't worrying me as much as I thought it would. The stress of the stage is exhilarating. I realised that this was giving me my life back.

I had always wanted to be a performer but I was constantly being told that I needed to have a "back up" plan. Well, you know what? I've been living the back up plan without ever even have tried the original plan.

On the 27th of November, I performed my one woman stand up show. I was terrified and nervous. I've never done stand up before and improv is not one of my strong points but I did it. People laughed. People didn't leave (even though I went way over my original estimate of 90 mins). It was one of the greatest experiences of my whole life.

I forgot about everything. Nothing mattered except the warmth of the stage and, I may be grossly
overestimating how the show went, but I'm not done. I'm squishing down the fears and putting myself out there. I refuse to simply exist, I am going to live.

2018 has been the biggest test I have ever had to endure. I'm ready to put it in a box and move forward.

I miss my father and my grandfather more and more every day and that will never change but what I need to do now is be grateful to them. They will live on in my memories and someday I'll be able to think back on them and smile rather than be consumed by pain.

2019 will be my year of doing what makes me feel like me... And figuring out who that me is (which should probably be the first thing I do). Small steps to bigger, better things.

So 2018, I'm ready to wave you off because, fuck me, you have been a shit! But you have taught me that I have the strength to keep getting back up even when I think I can't.