Wedding Daze Part II

I should have known that marrying a divorcee wouldn't be straight forward. (Doesn't divorcee sound so much better than fecking 'SPINSTER' ???.  Divorcee almost sounds exotic, whereas spinster sounded like I was an old dear on the scrap heap with a grey bun).  Anyway, I digress. Just before Christmas the previous year, my husband-to-be had visited a number of Catholic priests in Kilkenny, so see if they could perform a short blessing on us in the hotel where we were having our wedding reception.

Despite his pleading, none of the priests would entertain this, as Ray would be divorced. I know that he gave them an ear bashing, asking why they would bless cattle in a yard, but not our marriage. He asked if we had children, would the Catholic Church baptise them, and the priests agreed that they probably would. After visits to three priests who all refused to bless our marriage, I was thinking that some of my actor friends could put on the garb, throw a bit of holy water over us and no one would know the difference. It was three days before Christmas and we needed to send out invitations. Someone suggested that we ask a local Church of Ireland Reverend just outside of Kilkenny. We called down to meet him and he agreed to perform a blessing on us in the hotel.

Although it's only ten years ago, most Irish weddings were quite traditional then. I was a bit nervous telling my parents about 'the plan' for their only daughters wedding. Husband-to-be decided that he would tell my Dad. They went down the farm yard. I was chopping carrots with my Mam. A lot of carrots. An hour later, my Dad came bursting into the kitchen, laughing his head off. Turns out that the Reverend had lived in my aunt and uncles house, just down the road from my parents many years previously. Who would have thought ?

Friday 13th February 2004 : Yes, I got married on Friday 13th. My proud dad walked me down an aisle in a room in the hotel and we had a blessing in front of family and friends.

It was simple and lovely.

Without going into detail, I won't say that the earth moved on my wedding night. I did have a great nights sleep though. With all that was going on, I was just looking forward to a romantic night the following night – It was Valentine's after all. The hotel staff, rather sheepishly, told us that there was a mix up with the hotel booking and that there was no rooms available for Ray's children and their friends. As it was Valentines night, there was little chance of any cancellations. We had two options. 1. Look for a B&B for four teenagers or 2. All of us move into a family room. We went for option no 2. Suffice to say, the earth didn't move that night either.

It's now Sunday 15th February. I have been married since Thursday 12th February. My friend Susan and her beau offered to take Ray's crew to the train. We didn't think twice. I don't even know if we even said goodbye. All I remember was the New Husband and I taking off at high speed heading off into the sunset towards Limerick .....

Wedding Daze Part I

I can't say that the build up to my wedding ten years ago was romantic ... at all ... After endless phone calls to a solicitor about probate and how to finalise the paperwork on our house sale, we eventually moved into Poppy Cottage, in mid January 2004. 

As charming as it was, the heating system was dodgy and some of the windows were rotten. We had ripped out an old Stanley stove and temporarily replaced it with a wood burning chimera. Despite our toasty stove, the night that we moved in was absolutely freezing. Bitter. Artic. I remembered huddling in bed, wondering had we made a terrible mistake. 

On top of that , my husband-to-be's DIY divorce was slow and only came through just weeks before our wedding(s) were due to take place in February - a civil marriage, with a family blessing the following day.

The week after the divorce went through, he was back in court asking the same judge to waiver the standard three month notice to marry. I was worried that it wouldn't get sorted out on time, but felt that we couldn't change the date of our wedding (again), as family had already booked flights (for the second time).

Thankfully, Mr Nice Judge Man signed on the dotted line and we were free to marry – the spinster and the divorcee.

Wedding Day, no 1, February 12th 2004 : Ten years ago, there was very little option for a divorcee to marry anywhere except a Registry Office.The Registry Office in Naas was clean and presentable, but lacking in ambience- in a small retail unit in Monread, with walls painted a lovely shade of HSE washable peach. None of this bothered me too much, as we had put all of our energies on the family blessing the following day. I thought that the civil marriage was just a matter of turning up and signing on the dotted line.

I woke up in my parents house in Co Meath. I put on my beautiful Karen Millen dusty pink number, did my hair and make up, said goodbye to my Dad, saying I would see him at the aisle the following day. I headed off in my Toyota Yaris, with my Mam. We stopped in a hotel in Kill and I went into the loo to change out of my runners into my heels and to fix my face. We picked up flowers in the florist conveniently located beside the Registry Office and headed in.

We were married by a lovely lady, Registrar, Bernie Jacob. Bernie is Deirdre Jacob's mother. Deirdre disappeared without trace, from Newbridge in 1998, aged 18. My Mam mentioned to Bernie that she lived near Kingscourt. At the time of Deirdre's disappearance, there was searches around Kingscourt as she had friends there. I couldn't help but think of Deirdre and all of the family occasions she and her family missed out on. I imagined her pretty face and her wedding day. There was only a handful of people at the ceremony - my Mam, Ray's parents, our two witnesses, Ray's daughter and her friend. There was something powerful and intense about its simplicity, without the usual frills. Many tears were shed that day and I know that more than one of them was shed for Deirdre.

We went for a lovely meal in Kilkea Castle. Husband-to-be was now New Husband. He had one pint with his meal as he was driving to Maynooth to collect his son from the train station later that evening. Meal over, son and friend-who-happened-to -be-a-girl collected and it was getting near bed time. As well as being a bit chilly, Poppy Cottage was small and we hadn't yet sorted the furniture since we had moved in. Not being very good at maths, we couldn't figure out who would sleep where. Our wedding witnesses, (my then boss Breda, who was the match maker for myself and Ray and her hubby Paul) suggested that New Husband, his son and friend-who-happened-to be-a-girl could stay in their house. It seemed like a good plan. Beds were of a premium in Poppy Cottage, so I hopped in beside my Mam, while Ray's daughter and friend slept in the spare room. While I was in bed early, with my Mam, to get my beauty sleep for my 'Big Day part II the following day, New Husband went to the pub with the wedding entourage. Can you imagine the skitting in the pub 'Eh, Ray, did you not get married today ?' 'I did , yeah'. 'Oh right, congrats ... Where is the missus ?' 'She is at home in bed with her mother' ....

Stay calm and start filming

I'm only writing this to see if I can still can write.  It's only been month or so, but I feel like I've fallen off the wagon.  Unlike other blog posts that I have written, I don't have an outline in my head of what I'm about to write, so bear with me.   I have to get back in the saddle. For the last month or so, my head has been up my bum. All my efforts to re immerse myself in my own personal creativity has gone out the window. Having only recently gained the confidence to write start writing a blog, all ideas dried up. Meawhile, I hadn't the time or the headspace to do any drawing either. I had worked hard to build up my drawing technique. Like physical exercise, drawing requires regular attention.

Speaking of exercise, at least I walked my doggy ... a bit. Myself and my mutt have a regular 6.45am date. Just me and him, pounding the tarmaradam. But lately, I've had early starts and haven't always honoured out dates. I've been feelling guilty about it. At times I've hardly made eye contact with him.

Speaking of guilt, the chizzlers. Oh lordy. Even when I've been there, I haven't really been there, distracted by all that has been going on. I've looked in at them while they sleep as I head out the door to work before they wake and kiss them goodnight in their beds.

The reason for this ? I've been producing a feature film, via my role as Arts Officer in KCC In the film world, I'm a green horn and so small I'm not even small fry. It's just one project of many that I am working on.  

But it's a big deal to me. And to the people working on it. I've been working on this for over 18 months. It started out as a relatively small project, with a e6k budget. Over 50 people came to a think tank of sorts in Winter 2012 and were invited to submit scripts based on a drama set in the equine industry. It was to be an online drama, written by local writers and performed by local actors, shot be local crew. I met one of the Executive Producers, Tim Palmer last summer and he said to do it well, we needed to increase our budget ten fold. I didn't sleep for two nights worrying about it. I was worried because I felt that a lot of expectation had built up around this and I needed to make it work. In a rare 'eureka' moment, I realised that I could source the additional funding from a Per Cent for Art scheme for commissioning original artwork. 

 Ferdia Mac Anna came on board as Director last summer and led the writing team to refine a script. Auditions ran last autumn.  Again, doubt set in. Who would turn up ? Would we find the right people ? In the end, over 70 people turned up. The standard was extremely high (although there was a few memorable-for-the-wrong-reasons audition renditions of Jack Nicholson's 'you can't handle the truth' speech on A Few Good Men'). Unless you ARE Jack Nicholson, don't go there. It was such a buzz when we found our cast, breathing life into our characters. It was running like a machine. Locations sourced and secured. Before we knew it, it was May. 

Stressed and all as I was about the filming, having a family wedding in the mix didn't help. Don't get me wrong, I was thrilled and excited about my brothers wedding in Kerry on the May Bank Holiday weekend.

But let's face it, weddings are stressful. Ideally I would have had a few days off work to get myself together for it, but I was too busy with the film. I had hoped to have my bags packed before my parents arrived from Meath on Thursday evening. Instead, I had my head over a sink trying to dye my hair when they pulled into the drive way, as I didn't have time to go to the hairdressers.

We left for Kerry the following day, three hours later than planned, but still in good time. My wee man, bursting with excitement, and known for his interrogation techniques asked questions the whole way there. The same questions, over and over AND OVER. My dad, not the most patient of men started to get cross with Leon. Leon thought it was a joke and asked even more questions.

After tea with the in-laws-to-be, I dropped by parents to their hotel. As I was leaving, someone ran out and said that my mothers head piece was missing. Badly parked with kids swinging out of the car, I just wanted to cry. I did a little. We found the head piece. I headed off.

I stayed in the Gleneagle Hotel with the children that night, determined to have a good nights sleep. I drank a large glass of wine and hit the hay. At 3.30am, a gang of boy racers attending the Rally of the Lakes started a party in a bedroom across the hall from me. A girl who split up with her fella had a tearful conversation in the corridor with another fella who was trying to snog her. I was going to go out and offer her advice, but I just pleaded with them to stay quiet. At 5am, they all went to bed.  I was thinking of sending the kids in to jump on their beds when they got up at 6.30.

Denise and Robert's wedding in Dingle was just fabulous. Mighty craic with great hospitality. It deserved a blog post all of it's own, but that's for another day. Suffice to say for now, that Iron Maiden's 'Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter' was played after the traditional first dance, with my brother and his new father-in-law having a sword fight.  It was that kinda wedding. 

My parents travelled back to Kildare with us on Monday, with my dad anxious to get back to the farm in Meath.  I could have cried when he said that they would stay for another night. Much and all as I love my parents, I'm thinking, 'NNNNOOOOOOO, GO HOME !! I start filming on FRIDAY !!!! Of course, I said nothing.  My dad asked me the following morning if I had 'much on' that week.

The morning that filming started, I had my car parked with the oddest assortment of props. I baked canapes for a party scene and raided flowers out of my garden. I cried. I could feel the stress creeping up my chest.  It was all too much. And then filming started. SSHHHHHH !! 

And calm. 

We got into our rhytmn.  Scenes came to life. Tenderness. Violence. The comradary. The fun. The generosity. Euphoria. And then it was over.

And now I'm on come down. The strangest feeling of them all. It started with sleeplessness, then exhaustion.  I have barely been able to taste food, or feel hungry. And now I'm over analysing. Self doubt is creeping in.  Expectation and anticipation.  The fear, oh the fear.

A launch to organise. What next ? Who knows ? I've got the bug now, so more of the same please

Going Public

The way things happened, I didn't have a choice about going public with my MS diagnosis. Word spread pretty quickly amongst my rather large, but tight knit family that I had been admitted to the Neurology Ward in Beaumont Hospital in 2011. My main complaint at the time was blurred eyesight (optic neuritis, if you want to be technical about it).  This, and other tests suggested that I had MS. A number of close friends also knew what was going on. As a result, I was showered with acts of kindness from my nearest and dearest, which still warms me three years later. Family knowing your business is one thing, but the wider world finding out is another. 

When her-who-is-never-sick, didn't show up for work on a Monday and was missing for five weeks, it would have raised suspicions that there was something amiss. I did intend telling my closest work colleagues on my return to work. In the meantime, however, a well meaning colleague had mentioned my likely prognosis to a number of people.  While I would have preferred to choose my own moment to tell, or not to tell colleagues, I didn't really mind. In fact, I was touched by their generosity, including a collection amongst work colleagues to pay for extra hours of childcare to allow me to rest (My children, twins, were then 3 years old).

In the intervening years, my children have become a right pair of comedians. I started sharing stories about their antics and questions on Facebook.  People started to tell me that they looked forward to my Facebook posts. It was probably inevitable that I would write about MS at some stage. I wrote a reflective piece at Christmas time in the year of my diagnosis and had the odd moan when I was feeling particularly low.  The day that I heard that Marie Fleming had died, I was terribly upset and wrote a piece in response to it on my Facebook page. 

Soon after, a journalist in The Irish Examiner asked my to write about my initial diagnosis.  I was chuffed to be asked – to think that someone would have the confidence in me to write for a national newspaper.  But when I was writing the piece and read it aloud to my husband, I couldn't stop the tears. I knew I would be very publicly exposing some of my vulnerabilities.  Still, I felt that if someone took comfort from my story, it was worth telling.  I had an overwhelming response to the article, with strangers contacting my through social media, or tracking me down at work. 

http://www.irishexaminer.com/lifestyle/features/learning-to-live-with-ms-one-step-at-a-time-256689.html

A local newspaper, The Kildare Nationalist reprinted the article a few weeks later. That was more difficult for me, as I knew that more people I knew woud read it.  Funny thing was, that very few people mentioned it to me.  There were times when I met people and I-knew-they-knew, but didn't say anything, but that's fine too.

I know there are people that are horrified that I have shared my experiences about having MS on social media. But I would argue that I didn't have a choice.  You see, my personality type made me do it.  Let me explain - I did a Myers Briggs personality type indicator test as a team building exercise at work a few years ago.  Out of a possible 16 possible personality combinations, the test concluded that I am an ENFP (Extraverted/Intuitive/Feeling/Perceiving).  Basically, I'm a blabber mouth, who likes telling stories and engaging with other people. I also get bored easily (it is unlikely therefore that I will ever progress beyond blogging to writing novels). 

The learning from that personality test was to appreciate other people's personality types.  I am very aware of other people's boundaries and comfort zones.  My openness about my MS diagnosis does make some people uncomfortable.  Having said that, if what I write makes people uncomfortable, I would respectfully suggest that they don't read it.  

When I got my MS diagnosis, taking care of my general wellbeing was emphasised.  I've done all sorts of things, examining stress levels, diet, exercise, rest to improve my wellbeing.  One thing that has really helped is writing.  In my work life, I write all sorts of reports, funding applications, policy documents.  Ironically though, I always enjoyed writing for work, but it didn't occur to me to write 'for me' until very recently. I guess that anyone who writes a blog does so to get some sort of reaction from the reader.  I confess, I do get a buzz from comments and feedback from people.  It makes me feel better.  I also like the idea of documenting my stories for my children.  I do not want to be defined by medical condition, so I hope to write about other things too. 

MS diagnosis has given me a new sense of living in the moment.  Occasionally I do worry about my long term health prospects, but my writing has helped me focus in the now.  I hope that my writings, in some way, make it easier for people to talk about that which cannot be spoken.

This post was first published on Multiple Sclerosis Ireland blog site 'MS and Me' in April 2014

http://ms-society.ie/ms-and-me/blogs/1564