I remember receiving my first diary. It had a green plastic cover that felt smooth to the touch as it wrapped around the pages within. A little golden lock with a tiny key dangled from its edge generating a sense of preciousness and secrecy to the words contained within its boundary. A relationship with myself that no-one else was privy to became an enticement and so at about the age of 9 journaling and I were introduced.
Of course those early scribblings recorded important facts like ‘Jean had a sleepover and forgot her hair brush.’ In my early teens my words became ramblings and ruminations about which boy I fancied and if I might chance upon him that week. As the years passed my writing developed into a curious narrative and reflection of the trials and tribulations of life as I tried to assert who I am and pave a pathway through the mire of emotions relating to life, jobs, friends and relationships. No matter where I travelled my diary al-ways accompanied me, a reliable ally. Blank pages waiting to bear witness to my existence.
This practice of recording my response to life and teasing out my feelings on paper was to prove to be the structure upon which I supported and nurtured myself back to some semblance of strength in the wake of my 15 year old son’s decision to take his life which I wrote about previously on A Lust for Life. Ironically for 8 weeks after his hasty departure not a word manifested on to the paper. Shocked beyond comprehension it seemed nothing could take form in the abyss. And then it came, the floodgates opened and the outpourings of a soul distraught, bereft and broken, a heart shattered, a mother faltering as her load seems too heavy to bear.
The practice then became intensified as it elevated in priority and acts as a lifeline, a tool for survival, a familiar place to purge. A place where any and all manner of out pouring could fill the pages and I could at least let go a bit more. A record of the devastation and turmoil, the destruction of all the beliefs and ideals that had given a sense of purpose to my life, filled page after page coupled with a gathering of some incredible experiences that would then form the basis of a book.
One sleepless night as I sat up with pen in hand wrestling with the massive impact of his fateful act, it came to my consciousness that those words he last said to me – ‘See you in two minutes, Ma!’- would make a good title for a chapter in a book. Interestingly as soon as I began to write these words it felt different, as if this was not just me and mine but something else. And so a new way of writing began in earnest. Based on my journal accounts a form began to emerge and I found a sense of purpose driving this new way of writing forward. As my life began to re-build in extra-ordinary ways I now had a new premise from which to operate concurrent to my journal. This walk back through the circumstances and events culminating in this tragic outcome was now coupled with a heightened sensitivity and new awareness.
Naive and new to this world of books the road to publishing posed some challenges. Sending my words into a bottomless pit in some instances where no response returned didn’t invoke feelings of confidence. Some publishers gave some positive feedback but no offer arose.
My self-appointed mentor Dr. Johnny Connolly was not to be deterred. A criminologist by trade with a long history of academia and a big heart, his determination and unwavering belief in my words bolstered me when I faltered in a new world of books and publishing. And so we hatched a plan to self publish and contacted “Kazoo” a self publishing company which proved to be a great resource.
The question of funding such a protect now arose. Crowd funding became a likely option and so fundit.ie was the next port of call. A young and friendly team talked me through the process of setting up a campaign online and soon the funds began to flow. The level of fear and terror for me was incrementally building as I was being asked to trust my writing to be worthy of the investment of people many of whom I didn’t know.
‘See you in Two Minutes Ma’ came to life with the help and support of so many and I am truly grateful to all and was launched on May 11th by mental health campaigner Niall Breslin.
This book is available at Easons, Dubray and other bookshops nationwide. It is available online at amazon.com or on my own website
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=icFMQNfFLGc
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