Catherine Drea: Live Life!

After so many rainy days, this morning I saw some blue sky. It was just a tiny patch amongst the clouds but I stared at it wondering if it might last. Alas, I soon saw the rain clouds rising on the Comeraghs and although our small patch was already saturated, there followed another downpour.

I turned to thinking again about choosing a word for 2026. Choosing a word for the year is a practice, which myself and a small group of friends have shared for about 10 years. It’s not a New Year's Resolution as such. It’s more of a guiding intention or a whimsical companion to use as a prompt for the following year.

Over the past few years I have come up with words like threshold, inkling, expansion, pilgrimage. This year nothing was coming to me. I checked in with the three pals; the sheep farmer from Kilkenny, the fabric artist from Clare and the horticulturist from Carlow. The New Year had sparked all kinds of ideas for each of them but I was staggering and lacking in certainty about my word.

Maybe it was the state of the world? Maybe it was all the rain? Or perhaps it was because of a variety of illnesses we had over Christmas in our house? One way or another there was no Word for the Year coming to me.

The only phrase I was finding handy recently was “First World Problems!” In other words, like everyone else I know, keeping our lives in perspective has become a daily routine. It’s impossible to avoid the tragedy and chaos in the world, but there’s no doubt that we each have to find a way to live with perspective. If not, then our own health and survival will soon be in question, too.

When our Christmas tree with all the lights remained present and lit for all of January, I thought, First World Problems! When the roads flooded and there was a river running down either side of it, I remembered it was only First World Problems! When I reviewed my increasing cholesterol and my decreasing bone density, yes, yet again, First World Problems.

Then I was invited to meet some people who were fans of my book. For those of you who don’t know, part of my book covered the loss of my mother in childhood and the many challenges that created for our family. It’s a sad tale and was followed up by the loss of my Stepmother’s two stillborn girls. There was too much loss and grief in those years.

Since the book was published I have been messaged by many people who identified with my story of thriving in spite of it all. Everyone has their own story to tell. Some of us have been more damaged than others. I was saved, maybe, by the strong women in my extended family and the great school I went to over the back wall of our house. Looking back, I often think that those nuns were going through their own struggles with their choices and the liberation of women taking place around the world. This was a very lucky break for us children.

It’s funny, when I was leaving this lovely chat, I thought that maybe talking about my story in isolation, from the good life that I have had, was maudlin and a bit dark. Sometimes when people hear the details they end up feeling sad too. I probably neglected to mention enough that, in spite of the losses and the neglect, my sisters and I had a very happy childhood and one that felt very safe.

I’m not sure how that is? Maybe we learn something deeper and more useful from childhood trauma than we realise. For one thing, I always felt very close to my siblings and we don’t really risk falling out or hurting each other. We are careful and know that life is short and that each day is important and vital.

While my young father was in deep grief for a long time, as he grew older he too became softer and at ease. When we opted for radical or unusual choices in life, he literally shrugged it all off. He knew that to disapprove of any of this drama was not as important as our essential relationship. We all remained close to him until the end.

So there is learning and softening in grief and in trauma. Maybe not for everyone and, yes, it might even take 20 years of therapy! But messiness is the stuff of life and no one escapes that.

This is National Grief Awareness Week. The Irish Hospice Foundation has fantastic resources to support adults and children who are bereaved. As they say, there is no right or wrong way to grieve, just your way. (Find more on hospicefoundation.ie) 

So, do you know what, a little mantra came to me and I thought it would be perfect for my Word for the Year. I’m going to whisper the phrase “Live life!” whenever I am challenged, scared or hopeless about the rain or the world.

So far, it's very effective. I also think it works well in combination with First World Problems. When I was soaked in the rain again I whispered Live life! When I had to clean out a manky fridge it was First World Problems!

But most of all, live life!