So look: mental health. It’s a thing. It’s a big thing. It’s a biiiiiiiig thing.
Oh boy. It’s big.
I know it is.
As of the twenty fourth of January, 2018, I am seventeen. I wasn’t here when mental health was basically non-existent, and have been brought up in an atmosphere of change and conversation, of learning, of growth, of revolution and amendment repealing and closet-openings and —
what I’m trying to say is I got the knowledge. I got it good.
I know everyone feels sad from time to time. I know we all fear everyone else hates us. I know that everyone thinks they look like they were Shrek’s far uglier sibling, one so ugly it was left to die on the side of the road only to be picked up by two very blind humans.
I know all this. I’ve been told it a thousand times. Both that I am Shrek’s far uglier sibling and that, you know, we need to practise self-love or whatever. (TREAT YO SELF)
And yet, even among all this conversation, I’ve kept my mouth shut.
It’s hard to talk about yourself. It’s hard to stand up and say, look, I’m here— no, to the left, yep, hi, and look, here are my thoughts and feelings, as un-original and boring and emo as they are, and they are going to take up maybe thirty minutes of your time, is that okay with you? It’s hard because we, well maybe not you, because maybe you have yourself together (well done, here’s your gold star), but for me, it’s hard for me because I feel… undeserving?
I do not want to waste any amount of precious seconds or minutes or even hours of your life, with my tiny-in-terms-of-world-scale problems, when some paying advertiser could be holding your attention on TV instead. You’d probably get more joy out of the advertisement too, because even though it’s about something you probably don’t care about, there’ll be puppies or cats or something that’s whining, yes, but, like, you know. In a cute way.
The worst thing is that when I finally did decide to reach out to a friend, the response had been used up, cooling bathwater. Thrown in my face. Maybe I’m being a bit dramatic, because it was nothing serious, not depression, not anorexia, not anything huge, not anything worth calling sick for, but it was still important to me. Even that is hard to admit: it was still important to me.
(Ugh god UGH AGH AGH YOU KNOW DO YOU UNDERSTAND LIKE UGH.)
As you can imagine, I was apprehensive about talking to anyone again, especially after such an awkward and uncomfortable opening of emotional cans with that hesitant friend. And so, after a few weeks of mulling in a thick stew of my own pathetic-ness, I decided to take the leap and, yep, yep, I do be going there now: I decided to write a song about it.
It was not a very good song, even by my own quite abysmal standards, and all recordings have been deleted, all lyrics, erased. But I don’t feel I wasted the time I spent on it, because though a tiny voice in my head said your own petty emotions don’t even deserve your own time, pushing through and finishing it in all its glorious angst was worth it for the relief I felt after. After a few more weeks, I wrote another. Again, it’s also deleted (you can thank me in your prayers tonight.) but when I wrote my third, I could finally take a few steps back and go—eh? Okay? I don’t mind your existence? And then the fourth, I even felt like showing the fourth to other people, because yes, they were my feelings, but they were dressed up in such a way that I don’t mind sharing them. It’s good to be heard and acknowledged, even for something small, even when coded behind seemingly meaningless words.
I think that one of the nicest things about creating something is that you know it’s yours. Making noise is such a wonderfully physical act. For those few minutes, the air in your lungs have forged something. It is yours. You are allowed to be as silly and dumb as you want to, as you need to be, because, let’s face it, you’re going to be a stupid idiot sometimes, you’re going to be an emotional wreck sometimes, you’re going to think about Britney Spears in 2007 and remind yourself that you can get through tomorrow. I am allowed to scream about jam and throw it under the label of “artistic license” and you will have to go “ok fair enough thanks for that I love songs about jam, jam is so good and very nice and red and oh god I love jam, and I love when people scream, this is my favourite combination, so thank you.”
And I will say “thank you for listening. I love jam too.”
That exchange is exactly why organisations and programmes like the Irish Youth Music Awards (IYMAs) and Music Generation are so important. They help give spaces for us childers to build communities and friendships and, in my case, form a band.
We were then lucky enough to qualify to represent Limerick in the Irish Youth Music Awards (IYMAS) programme, which holds a national all ages event in Croke Park every year at the end of regional events throughout Ireland. The IYMAS is a unique chance for those young’uns who are interested in la musique to gather in one extremely long, extremely rectangular room and just let loose and celebrate their angst and emotion and all things musical for day, which is great and good and simply nice.
It is important.
Well. It’s important to me, anyway.
You can see Anna’s band at the Irish Youth Music Awards. Youth Work Ireland’s Irish Youth Music Awards (IYMAs) is excited to return to Croke Park for its all ages National Day on Saturday April 21, 2018 with its biggest lineup so far which also marks the launch of Youth Work Ireland week with other activities and events on around Ireland. The Irish Youth Music Awards will feature performances by young musicians aged 12-19, performing across two stages throughout the day and connects ticket holders and performers, with Ireland’s top music industry personnel at the IYMAs Education Hub via workshops and masterclasses with over 100,000 young people participating in the programme to date with the figure growing each year we hope to fill the stadium next year!
The Irish Youth Music Awards Education Hub and marketplace brings together some of Ireland’s top music industry professionals. Those attending Croke Park on the day will have the opportunity to sign up for the Education Hub which will feature masterclasses, workshops in songwriting, music video making and DJ scratching as well as the opportunity to visit and participate in the IYMAs marketplace.
The Education Hub will feature workshops and masterclasses by critically acclaimed songwriters Little Green Cars who will look at songwriting and discuss their processes. Award winning director Bob Gallagher will give a masterclass on the do’s and don’ts of video making, with his CV including music videos for Girl Band, James Vincent McMorrow and Lisa Hannigan. Social media music star Orla Gartland whose YouTube channel has over 11.5 million views will discuss how young musicians can effectively use social media to communicate their message online. RTÉ 2FM will host a scratch workshop with DJ Mo-K and DJ Tando who have shared the stage with Rihanna, Akon and Snoop Dogg and BIMM Institute Dublin will work with attendees to create a band to perform together at the end of the workshop and much more.
The IYMAs marketplace will feature information for attendees on the creative and music industries, with BIMM Institute Dublin, IMRO and RTÉ 2FM all in attendance with the latter broadcasting live from the event. The marketplace will also have hands on demonstrations by Rotor Videos on how to make your music videos on a very small budget. We will also have Ableton livedemonstrations by CreateSound and lots more.
Tickets for the Irish Youth Music Awards National Day are available from Eventbrite priced €20 excluding booking fee here. The event is an all ages, alcohol free event. Group tickets are also available for youth clubs, projects or schools priced €120 (including booking fee) allowing admission for five young people and two youth leaders or adults on the day. Group tickets must be booked by April 11th and are available here.
