Living The Life

With summer on the horizon, Domhnall O’Donoghue is shaking off post-lockdown jitters to resume living his best life.

At the start of this year, plans for my best friend’s hen party got underway — a celebration that had previously been delayed for obvious reasons.

The initial destination of choice was Carlingford, but a two-year backlog of events meant accommodation for our 16-strong group was impossible to source. The honour ultimately fell to Athlone, where we were fortunate to claim the final rooms in one of the town’s central hotels.

This scarcity of accommodation across the country revealed that the gregarious Irish were making up for lost time and letting the proverbial hair down once again — and understandably so. But, no sooner had the logistics for our hen party been confirmed — transport, accommodation, restaurants and bars — when another issue emerged, which took me completely unawares: a reluctance to accept my freedom in this world without restrictions.

Why was I not jumping at the chance to reclaim my lust for life?

Before the pandemic forced us indoors, being immersed in crowds was second nature to me — whether it was on the busy sets of Ros na Rún, joining travel journalists on press trips to far-fl ung destinations or meeting friends for a night on the tiles.

However, as the countdown to the hen commenced, I started feeling uneasy. We all know how enriching and uplifting human interactions are, yet I became increasingly hesitant, quickly identifying that even positive changes — like removing oppressive restrictions — can produce challenges.

For instance, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been in a nightclub — how would it feel to be squeezed into a compact space, surrounded by hundreds of others, drinking, sweating and dancing wildly to Maniac or Mr Brightside?

RECLAIMING OUR FREEDOM

I’ve always known human beings to be resilient — capable of bouncing back following periods of chaos and uncertainty. And while many readily embraced being allowed to re-engage with the world — others, like me, worried that this transition had happened too suddenly and abruptly.

One day, we were cooped up in our homes, unable to venture beyond the tip of our noses. The next, our masks and sanitisers were being flung into the bins, with large crowds quickly becoming the norm. Adapting to what we couldn’t do in 2020 took time — it stands to reason that adapting to what we could do in 2022 would also take time.

In the lead-up to the hen party, I needed to address my hesitancy about returning to the many traditions I had cherished for years. What’s more, with summer on the horizon — a period teeming with social events, such as my best friend’s wedding — I was determined to replace anxious butterflies with social butterflies.

EVERY LITTLE THING IS GONNA BE ALL RIGHT

I rang another friend, Gayle, to discuss this subject, and she immediately allayed my fears that I was alone in my reservations — and conceded that she’d become “used to effectively hiding” and was now “slower to say yes to doing things socially.” We discussed how understandable it was to harbour worries about crowded areas — especially indoors — but resolved to work on identifying and separating unhelpful thoughts from helpful ones.

She added: “Because of the lockdowns, we’ve almost become indoctrinated to live the life of a hermit. Now, it’s about breaking the habit of not being social – we just need to get used to it again!”

Speaking to Gayle, I felt encouraged that my trepidation would pass with time — and what was required was a measure of tenderness, patience and practicality.

To build my confidence ahead of the hen party, I began easing myself into the social scene and reached out to other friends to arrange lunch, coffee or walks.

That old idiom about a problem shared certainly had merit — the more I chatted about restoring my enthusiasm for socialising, the more I learned it to be a concern shared by many. And the more we discussed it, the less apprehension we all had.

I implemented many tools that stood me in good stead during the lockdowns — exercise, deep breathing, visualisation and positive thinking. And to combat that sense of vulnerability, I focused on the practical things that I could do — including regularly washing my hands.

The day of the hen arrived, and as we crisscrossed County Meath’s verdant landscape, the bubbles flowed — but so did the merriment and mischief. Athlone treated us like superstars, and as the night came to an end, the club DJ played Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds. I couldn’t put it better myself: Every little thing is gonna be all right.

And now I’m counting down the days until the wedding in June!

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