on resilience

TW this post mentions self-harm, suicide & drugs.

I have been going through it. When am I ever not? I've been talking with a lot of people about it and there is one thing everyone is saying. It's something I've been told all my life, and quite frankly am sick of hearing. 

You're so strong. You're the most resilient person I know. 

The thing is, I know it's true. For someone who jokes about never being able to get over anything, ever, I actually am quite good at it. Well, maybe not getting over, but certainly getting through. I'm just so unbelievably tired of having to endure all the things I have to get through.

From a child having to deal with my emotionally abusive father, to being bullied so badly by someone who I believed was my best friend that I had to move schools - my resilience has deep and long-standing roots. I know everyone goes through tough things in their life, I am not special or worse off than anyone, but I feel things incredibly deeply, and I think that's why the events which need to be gotten over or through feel so relentless.

From there it was more bullying and the beginning of my teenage struggle with self-harm. The depth and complexity of my mental health struggles really emerged here. I was extremely depressed as a teenager, and it snowballed until it peaked at age 21 when things got so bad I nearly dropped out of college and ended up needing psychiatric help. This is where I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and had my first real encounters with suicidal thoughts and plans.

I got through it. From this I began developing an art practice that actually used the things I go through in my life to make work. I wanted to take all this struggle and negativity and turn it into something "good" in the hopes of processing it through creativity.

This is when the word "brave" started to be thrown around. As I showed my graduate work 'room 3', about my time spent receiving treatment at Sheaf House, that was the word everyone used. Strong and resilient took a little break, and brave became the mot du jour. I remember standing at the opening night of my graduate exhibition in IADT and my mam watching people interact with my work and saying to me, "I get it now, why you had to share this."

The bravery continued into working on 'Back Into Your Mind', which was my first real attempt at making work that processed the trauma imposed on me by my father. I've always viewed this work as the prequel to 'Every Saturday'/'To Jack'. It was a real test to see how much I could reveal. How "brave" I could really be, especially as it involved my family. That work is where bravery, strength, and resilience formed a Venn diagram with Clare Lyons firmly at the center. I became what felt like the ultimate example of taking something gutting and turning it into something meaningful.

But what people often don't realise, is that all the while as I made these projects, and positioned myself as this brave, strong, resilient person, I was also having to try embody those traits in my personal life too. Beyond the personal of my art practice. Just as my MFA and 'Every Saturday' began, I went through the most gutting breakup. A six year long relationship ended just like that, and the layers and nuance of deceit and betrayal slowly leaked out as I suffered through the COVID-19 lockdown and relocating my life to Belfast. 

In Belfast I picked myself back up, but then within just a few months had my limits tested once more as a new housemate made my life hell - making me feel crazy for laying boundaries around my peace, my space, and my stuff. This began a years-long battle with persistent low-level depression and a sort-of struggle with drugs. 

I moved out and once again thought things were maybe going to sort themselves out. In fact, I got to experience something I'd wanted my whole life - living alone. And it was great for a while. The depression never fully went away, but it felt like I was in control of my life again. 

Until the flood. And the fleas. Within the space of two months, my apartment flooded, nearly destroying all of my belongings and leaving a lingering imprint of anxiety and panic. Then came the fleas. My apartment became infested, and if you know anything about them, you know how relentlessly difficult they are to eradicate. My cat and I were being eaten alive, and I had to pull myself out of depression long enough to hoover my large flat at least twice a day, boil my bedsheets daily, and pick live fleas off myself each morning.

I know we're getting extremely into woe is me territory here, but I'm sorry, I have to keep going. I feel compelled to record all this as I sometimes still can't believe all of this happened to me and I am still here, showing up, and trying. See? Resilient. 

A few months after this the opportunity to relocate to England presented itself. I honestly thought "things can't possibly get worse, so why not?" I also wanted to demonstrate a level of commitment to the person I was moving with. I shouldn't have even thought about things getting worse, because it's almost like I jinxed myself. 

We arrived into Bath in the February, and by July I was falling apart. My mental health was already hanging on by a thread, so actually moving away from my friends and family, coupled with the fact that my job involved a commute to another city (which meant the friends I was making were actually not very accessible) meant that I reached a level of loneliness I don't think I've ever experienced before. The person I moved with was all I had, and they were simply unable or incapable of helping me. I spent my days off completely alone, sometimes not leaving the house and often never speaking a word to another person all day. 

This culminated in a nervous breakdown which kicked that resilience into overdrive. Something clicked that day, as I realised the extent of how alone I truly was. I knew the only person who could save me was myself, and so I began my journey of healing. Anti depressants, mental health nurses, counselling, even more journalling - all this happening while I'm trying to make my first solo exhibition. An exhibition which of course was not only back in Ireland (a logistical nightmare), but also about the most difficult thing I've ever experienced in my life. I can't help but think of myself this time last year and wonder how the hell I managed it. How did I pull that off? It was that resilience™.

I swear we're nearly done. We're almost up to present day. I struggled through the winter until spring brought the first real evidence of change emerging from all the hard work I'd been doing on myself. Life still felt like spinning plates while juggling, but I was beginning to feel more capable. 

Then a dream job opportunity came up at the company I work for, a head office role that I couldn’t have felt more excited or enthusiastic about. I worked super hard on my application, only to end up being overlooked and messed around by the talent acquisition team. It felt like the culmination of a year-and-a-half-long uphill battle to remain optimistic in the face of constant rejection.

And finally we're here. September. And yet another challenge to get over/through. Another test of the limits of my signature strength, bravery, and resilience. I mean what I said at the start. I am so exhausted and sick of having these things that push me into needing to be resilient. Again, not trying to be all woe-is-me, but seriously..when am I going to get a break? 

Well, there is a small break on the horizon. I have an exhibition opportunity upcoming, and I will be using everything I just spoke about here to inform how I approach presenting some work. It's funny, I've spent ages and hundreds of words on this blog in the last few months talking about how now that 'To Jack' is done*, I'll be moving on from making personal work. But as long as life keeps insisting, I will have to keep making work about that. And that is exactly what I plan to do. That is what I will present at this exhibition: a direct and honest showing of my prevailing resilience. I am going to prove to myself that I am still showing up, I am still here, and that this resilience of mine is something I should always feel deeply proud of.

*it's not actually done, just done for now...