The Cold Plunge: Lonely in The Liberties

In this post I share about experiencing loneliness, anxiety and overwhelm as I continue to navigate my first few weeks in Dublin, and how a catch-up with a friend helped me shift my focus for my time in Ireland.

Lonely in The Liberties

I don’t think I’ve ever experienced the same level of loneliness as I did in those first few weeks in Dublin. Maybe for a short period when I’d gone away somewhere by myself. I realised how familiar my life had been back in Australia. I’d always been geographically close to friends and family, no more than a few hours drive or flight from everyone near and dear to me. The physical distance was one thing, but the time difference was another. Not only did it make communication tricky, but knowing my friends and family were all asleep while I was awake going about my day brought about a strange sense of isolation.

Every time someone from home enquired about my job search efforts, I felt anxious about the outcomes. I was anxious about waiting for my PPS number. I was anxious about finding accommodation for Galway, and about getting to and from the racecourse where I would be working. I had interviewed for a merchandising job and was anxious about whether or not I would get it. There was so much uncertainty, so many things up in the air. I knew deep down that everything would be okay, but it was hard to let myself believe it.

As I waited around, anticipating responses from jobs, a sense was everpresent in the back of my mind. The fear of running out of money was always there. The thought of the moment I would have to decide to use the last of it to go back to Australia. The thought that even if I got a permanent job, my wage wouldn’t be enough to sustain my living costs. The daunting task of the constant search for temporary accommodation.

I was caught in a vicious cycle of checking emails and messages and finding no responses. I wanted to stay aligned with what I wanted, but it was so hard in the moment. The fear was overwhelming, and it was depressing when the only responses I was getting were rejections.

All the while, I was learning all these new things about myself. I was realising the kind of environment I want to live in, the way I want to live while on this adventure, and into the future. I didn’t know if I suited the backpacker lifestyle after all. I didn’t want to share a room with other people, but the price difference between a backpacker’s hostel and student accommodation/Airbnbs was hundreds of dollars per week.

I was reluctant to fully submit to this experience until I had a job, but I knew that by doing this I was limiting myself. I wanted to get out into the world, to find a new community for myself. I feared going out and doing things without the certainty of if or when the money would return to me. And even when I did start working, would it be enough? Would I have to be content with simply covering my costs of accommodation, food and transport? It was all well and good to cover my costs, but I also wanted to be able to get out there and live, to do things and explore. I wondered if by holding back, I was holding myself back from finding my place in Ireland. Waiting for when I got the money to let myself feel financially secure and settled. Should I allow myself to be in Ireland, so that Ireland would let me in?

I considered the idea that my unemployment could be an opportunity to finally get some long-time business ventures off the ground. I could offering hula hoop lessons as an independent teacher, but I had no hoops with me, and not having a car would be a challenge. I could organise some writing workshops, but didn’t know where to start when it came to finding a venue.

Words of Wisdom from a Dear Friend

I met Laura when I stayed at her Airbnb in Galway on my previous trip to Ireland seven years earlier. Laura had been such a help to me then, connecting me with contacts to help with my book research. We had stayed in touch, and I couldn’t wait to catch up with her again. We met up at Fallon and Byrne and spent the evening chatting and laughing over a pizza and a bottle of wine (followed by another bottle back at her place). She listened while I shared my experience while trying to settle in Ireland, venting my frustrations and fears. She reminded me to breathe, to trust the process of the unfolding of my journey. She shared with me how much I had changed since we’d seen each other last. How much happier and confident I seemed now compared to then. After many years of trials and transitions, having lost myself in the care of others, I was in the process of ‘colouring myself back in’. She had me stand in the middle of her living room as she waved a sage stick around me, guiding me to set an intention of love and courage for my onward journey. She sent me home with her copy of Burning Woman by Lucy H. Pearce.

I woke up the next morning feeling miserable again, partly because I was hungover, and partly because I still didn’t have any answers. I hadn’t gotten the merchandising job, which despite my disappointment I knew was for the best because I didn’t want to stay in Dublin. I hadn’t heard about a student accommodation assistant position I had applied for in Cork. My PPSN application was still being reviewed. I had tried to open an account with two different Irish banks, which had proved impossible without the proper proof of a residential address.

I was in limbo. I felt directionless. I knew I should be revelling in the quietness, embracing the free time, but it was making me anxious.

One thing I did know was that I didn’t want to be in Dublin anymore. If worse came to worse and I couldn’t stay in Ireland, I wanted to travel around the country and see more places, or keep travelling through Europe. Or maybe I wanted to go home to Australia and start fresh. There, I had no job, no car or place to live besides family. Should I go home and use the last of my money to buy a campervan? I really didn’t know. How long should I stick it out in Ireland? I was too scared to make a budget, to see the numbers on paper. When should I seriously consider going home?

I wanted so much to fully surrender and trust that everything would be okay. But where did logic and rationale come into it?

I had been sitting in my room at Binary Hub, stressed and depressed about the PPS number, the resident card, getting a bank account, and receiving all the associated documentation in the mail on time before leaving for Galway. I was lost and overwhelmed by the unknown.

My Own Little Sanctuary

Staying in private student accommodation had made my first few weeks in Ireland bearable. I’d had a desk to write at, a comfortable bed to sleep in, and a fully equipped kitchen to cook in. And that had brought me little moments of joy.

After two months of travelling through Canada, Binary Hub had been a base for me to come back to each day. I had finally been able to re-establish a daily writing routine. I had slept well there most nights, which was worth the extra expense. The staff had helped me with a letter to use as my proof of address.

If I really did end up going back to Australia, at least I had had a month in and my own place to write and rest. It had been perfect- I could be exactly who I wanted to be. Living independently in my own little place, free to do as I pleased. The free time I had was a gift, and I was fortunate to have the means available to support it. Means that I had earned through hard work over the past year, and had been awarded for several years of pain and suffering.

Shifting My Focus

I realised I needed to take the focus off the job search and life admin, and refocus on the real reason I was here, to work on my Irish novel. I didn’t want to spend all my time feeling consumed by life admin, by looking for accommodation and work. I would rather have a few good months, or continue my travels elsewhere. For now, I was going to focus on being a writer in Dublin, the UNESCO City of Literature. That was my current experience, and whatever came after that, I would deal with.

But why did I feel so safe imagining the worst-case scenario?

I was trying to protect myself from disappointment, but I would be disappointed anyway if I had to go home to Australia early. This working holiday had been a dream of mine for over a decade. I wanted to be in Ireland so badly. Why was it that the only way I felt I could truly belong here was if I had a job? Why did employment dictate if I ‘lived’ somewhere? I lived there because I was alive, because my heart was beating!

Escaping Dublin

After three and a half weeks, my time in Dublin came to an end. I caught the train to Galway on a rainy Friday, and checked into my Airbnb, a private room close to the city. I did miss my studio apartment at Binary Hub, but it felt nice to have other people around.

Arriving in Galway, I felt like I had finally ‘arrived’ in Ireland. I felt like I was home. I finally felt the excitement and warmth I had expected to experience when I’d arrived in Ireland almost a month earlier. It was the fresh start I so desperately needed.