Buddy Holly

Buddy Holly

When I told my American History Professor that I wanted to write my Michaelmas term paper on Buddy Holly, he looked at me funny. Not in a “who is that” kind of way but more in a “sounds pretty specific but ok” way. I wrote my paper on race relations and Buddy Holly’s music – spoiler alert: not a whole lot to write about there – but it was a paper I wrote more for myself than anyone else.

If you have read this blog long enough, you’ll know about my struggles with anxiety. In fact, I seem to be starting all my blog posts like that now. But this one is a little different.

When I was younger, Buddy Holly never meant more than a dorky kid with black rimmed glasses that tried his hand at rock and roll. I didn’t know any of his songs or his impact or his untimely death. I didn’t know he inspired Elvis or The Beatles or Bruce Springsteen or that he broke the foundations to what is now rock and roll. He just wasn’t someone I was bothered about.

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2009 v 2019

2009 v 2019

I see everyone posting their 10 year challenge pictures.

Ten years ago my life was widely different to what it is now. Sure, everyone’s is – be a bit weird if it wasn’t, right?  But ten years ago, I was preparing for my Junior Cert which  was a catalyst for some of the major issues I faced in my late teenage years and early 20s.

Up until 2016, I categorised my life before and after 2009. My life was calm, smooth and pleasant before 2009 and after, it became a chaotic, anxious mess. Because 2009 was the year that I first experienced Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I’ve written about my OCD before. Numerous amounts of times. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re all sick of hearing about it because God knows I am. I can’t say I was an anxious child growing up – I don’t really remember – but if you had said I’d an underlying mental health issue, I don’t think I’d have believed you.

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OCD, Nine Years On.

OCD, Nine Years On.

This year will be nine years since I started experiencing Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (and six since I started doing something about it).

I think a lot of people who knew me when I started college are aware of this but I’m choosing to write about it now, nearly a decade on from the first instance of it (during my Junior Cert!), and six since I sought help, as I have a much better perspective of my experience than before.

There are two days in my life that could categorically be dubbed ‘the worst days of my life’.

The first one was when I was 18 on a family holiday in France and the other when I was on a trip to Achill Island in 2013.

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When Suicide Knocks

When Suicide Knocks

Yesterday was World Suicide Prevention Day. You may have seen it trending on Twitter or it being discussed on Facebook by brave people who shared their experiences. But our attitude towards talking about suicide still needs work.

It’s a concept that is thrown around a lot lately.

We all know people, sometimes ourselves, who use it in jest if they come across something that requires a little effort, (“Oh my God I’ll shoot myself if I have to go back to that class” or “X happened, kill me”, you know you’ve heard them).

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