“Well, are you happy to be home for the holidays?”
My planned, practised answer to my father’s question was, “Yes, of course”. In reality, however, I was just happy to know that I had two weeks off work and that 2016 – a year with some great highs, but some horrific lows – would finally be coming to an end.
Christmas wasn't an event I particularly cared about, but for the weeks leading up to it, I had been looking forward to switching on the Out of Office mode on my work email and flying to Dublin, leaving our home in Nottingham until early January.
My boyfriend and I looked forward to the idea of relaxing at home with our families, although we joked that both our parents would have us frantically searching the Ryanair app for flights back to East Midlands Airport by the end of our first night in Ireland.
Thankfully, we had the foresight to escape during Christmas for a 12-hour break in Edinburgh just after St Stephen’s Day, so we could recharge our batteries by having time to ourselves.
Me time
Between brunch with the parents and a late-lunch date with an old college friend and her new husband, I hid myself away for a few minutes in a café on O’Connell Street in Dublin for some “me time”, something I had craved since flying home.
Time alone is something that the introvert in me desperately needs to stay sane, but taking the opportunity to be antisocial is usually frowned upon when you are home for the holidays. I’m expected by my family and friends to be happy, healthy, upbeat and in good form, but I’m more likely to be drained, cranky, grumpy – and in need of a long sleep.
Nevertheless, my desire to be a hermit had to give way to social and familial duties, which must be fulfilled while my boyfriend and I are in Ireland: The social drinks with “the lads” in the pub on Christmas Eve; The visit to my parents’ and grandmother’s houses on Christmas Day; The trek to visit an elderly relative; The New Year’s Eve house party (and New Year’s Day breakfast) with my boyfriend’s family, where I make futile attempts to understand his brothers’ banter and jokes (do I want eggs for breakfast when I explained the night before that I’m allergic to them? Is this sarcasm?).
Resetting my life
At almost all of the social gatherings, I’m asked how I am settling into life in England. Despite barely having the energy to feign a smile, my answers are true: I’m delighted to be there. By moving to a country with no friends other than my boyfriend, I was able to reset my life and be my own true, introverted self.
Having lived in Nottingham for the past year, I had accrued a handful of English friends, with whom I could catch up for a coffee after work, or meet for a pint over the weekend.
Generally, though, my downtime and weekends were reserved for myself, my boyfriend, or our travels around Britain or Ireland. I had a good standard of life in England and, while it wouldn’t be home forever, I was happy.
And, despite my exhaustion, or my low tolerance for family small talk, I was happy to be home for the holidays. Next year, though, I will split my time; a week in Ireland, and a week alone on a beach somewhere, for much more of that “me time”.
Scott De Buitléir is a writer and poet from Clontarf in Dublin, and lives with his partner in Nottingham. His début poetry collection, Fás / Growth, is due to be published later this year.
