Two and a half months ago I set off from my hometown of Claremorris in County Mayo on a trek that so far has taken me all around the southern edges of the country – from Connemara to the Cliffs of Moher, on from Limerick to Killarney and the Beara Peninsula before heading east through Cork and slowly making my way up to Dublin, and on again up north to Belfast.
But what’s a bit more unusual about it, and what has gotten me a lot of weird looks from motorists, is that I’ve walked the entire distance barefoot, without sock or shoe. It’s not just some strange obsession with feet, though; I’ve been trying to help raise money for the Pieta House Suicide and Self-Harm Crisis Centre and the vital work that they do all around the country.
Naturally, people often ask me why I decided to set off on this journey (sometimes they don’t ask, but the confused face is enough), which is actually a question I find quite difficult to answer – it’s sort of a bunch of different things that all came together.
In 2014 I lost a close friend to suicide. As is so often the case, it seemed to many of us to come totally out of the blue, and the ensuing months were a harrowing mix of missing her and wondering what she’d been going through, and if we could have helped. Death is tragic, there’s no denying that; but to die by suicide has all the tragedy of death and an extra sting on top that affects everyone who that person touched in life. You’re always asking yourself questions, after that. The less people who are left asking themselves those questions the better, and that’s why I chose to try to support Pieta House, who help people to get through extremely difficult times in their lives.
I suppose that’s half of the question answered; still, why barefoot? I think, to be honest, it was just something about the physical challenge that appealed to me. I remember flicking through the Guinness World Records a couple of years ago, seeing the longest barefoot journey and just thinking “this is it” (actually, I broke the record just two days ago!). About two weeks in, someone told me that I’d obviously chosen it as a great metaphor – walking with the feet exposed, struggling to cover the distance slowly and painfully, just like how people sometimes struggle to get through life. This was a much better reason than anything I’d come up with so I’ll just steal it and hope no-one notices.
It’s been pretty tough at times. I’ve had to contend with all manner of delightful plants such as thistles, nettles and gorse, as well as keeping an eye on the traffic so I don’t cause an accident. I’ve walked on some very rough and stony roads, and some that don’t really deserve to be called “roads” (but you’re still allowed to drive down them at 100km/h). There have been many times when I’ve simply been forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other for hours on end, or walking uncomfortably from one line of yellow paint to another.
I’ve found, however, that the physical discomfort has paled in comparison to the kindness that has been shown to me by people along the way. I’ve people stopping me to give me bottles of water, people asking how to donate, or just wishing me luck. People have fed me and offered me places to stay, and even offered me a lift in their car (which I’ve had to politely refuse). I honestly felt like my entire outlook on people was changed in the first couple of days – the Irish people possess extraordinarily warm and generous spirits. They care.
And that’s really what I’ve learned over the past couple of months – people care, and they want to help other people if they can. Sometimes if you’re going through a hard time you don’t feel like telling other people because you think they won’t care or even that it would be a burden to them; really, that’s not the case. In general, most people are more than happy to help you carry the load.
Another thing I’ve been very happy to see along the way is that people are starting to become much more open about discussing mental health – I’ve had a lot of people come up to me and tell me frankly about issues in their lives or the lives of close friends, without a sense that there is something shameful or wrong about it. Which is good, because it’s completely normal not to feel okay. It’s good to see that in Ireland we’re getting a bit better at realising that and at talking about it.
I’ll be moving on from Belfast shortly – northward up along the coast on the way to Donegal and eventually back home to Mayo. I can only imagine that I will continue to meet wonderful and interesting people who quite honestly make me feel hopeful about life and about the future of mental health issues in Ireland.
My fundraiser will run until the end of my walk in August. Donations can be made at give.everydayhero.com/ie/baring-my-soles or you can follow the journey at facebook.com/BaringMySoles
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