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He grew up here. He recalls a truly happy childhood in this home. Trying to replicate the atmosphere he experienced in the first 20 plus years of his life was a personal mission for him. He did everything he believed was right - work hard in school, go to college, get a "good job", save (when everyone else moves abroad, goes on extravagant holidays, pisses their wages away) and still he doesn't have the opportunity to live where he grew up. His most realistic chance of living here is if his parents die and leave him the house. Oh, he shouldn't think that. It's not that bad after all, it could be a lot worse. Does he know more and more people are sleeping on the streets? Does he know that single mothers are having to raise their children in hotels? Of course, he knows this. But this doesn't improve his outlook as he gets up at 5.30 every morning to make work for 8 because 'just outside bray' is all he and his girlfriend can afford. On his drive, he often abruptly ends his intake of the RTE news, fed up with what he's hearing (there have been 11 straight months of homelessness increases). Sometimes he listens to music in hope of boosting his mood but his journey to work is usually in relative silence. In this silence disillusionment brews. Imagine, he is "one of the lucky ones".
Again his mind turns to those less fortunate. But this doesn't make him feel any better about his situation. Rather, it only infuriates him even more. He hates that thousands upon thousands of people in his city are in a more precarious situation than him. In his weakest moments, he feels that the news on homelessness is used to reassure people like him. They perpetuate the whole "sure it could be worse". These 'weak' moments have become more prevalent of late. His job has decreased his hours and his girlfriend of 4 years now bears the brunt of the monthly bills. It would be naive to believe that this has not impacted their relationship. He now spends his days "off" alone at home, feeling worthless, staying in bed until he's starving, then lethargically strolling down the stairs to eat some toast. Spreading the butter on his wholegrain toast is executed in a confused manner. Half of him wanting to return to the covers, that his girlfriend paid too much for as quickly as possible, while the other half refuses to complete any action with a sense of purpose. But it could be worse.
He knows he should probably look for another job, but he doesn't know if he has it in him to project a certain amount of bullshit necessary to impress an interviewer. His time on his laptop is split between looking at houses or apartments near his parent's house and reading David McWilliams' articles- hoping there's some good news on the property ladder. An increase in employment and GDP means very little to him. He wished he didn't live so far away from his friends, who either live with their parents or have headed north of the Liffey in search of an affordable home. While they are only a call away - he feels that is too far. But things could be worse.
The idea of gambling becomes increasingly appealing to him. He'd only need a few wins to make things a lot better he thinks. But he would have to ask his girlfriend and he knows that wouldn't be well received. The dream of being married and having kids is exactly that, a dream - and not one of his recent dreams of him and a deer wandering through the desert. He is so far away from being financially capable of producing a wedding all of his friends and family could enjoy. And kids? A recent Irish Times article estimating the cost of raising two children gave him an anxious stomach - making him miss his wholegrain toast that day. But if he's completely honest with himself, his financial situation isn't the major stumbling block to a nearby wedding and child. It's them. The financial strain on his girlfriend has changed her, he feels. Maybe she feels she doesn't know him long enough to be working so hard just to maintain their house 'just outside bray'. They spend very little quality time together, and sex is a rarity. He feels important things are young unsaid, in a naive attempt to protect each other. He doesn't know if they are truly right for each other, that they are compatible as they used to be. He suspects the relationship or their situation at large is preventing them from growing, evolving but he doesn't want to hurt her. Could he say that to her now? Surely it's better than waiting another year, or two, or three? He has debated sitting down with her and being honest but he doesn't know if he's ready for THAT conversation and its consequences. He'd most likely have to move back with his parents which would be such an odd sensation for him. Finally living where he grew up would be overshadowed by the perceived 'failure' of his personal life. Even though a recent podcast told him that when relationships end they don't necessarily fail, they just come to a sometimes natural completion, he knows what everyone he even slightly knows will think and of course, that's what his parents are worried about. He shrugs in embarrassment at the thought of running into old neighbours and explaining the ever-presence of his car beside the lamppost and the end of the road.
Lately, he's been missing full-time work, because of the money obviously, but also for the lack of 'free' time. All the free time he's endured over the last few weeks have made him question the trajectory of his life. Sitting in a house 'just outside bray' is not what he wanted 7 years ago but could he have done differently? Find a rich girlfriend? Make a shit tonne of money in Dubai and come home? Emigrating didn't appeal to him at all. He thought about writing an article titled "I'm being punished for wanting to live in my city" and sending it to The Irish Times. He believed that was something that they would publish. It would garner a lot of clicks, but whenever he opened the Microsoft word document he couldn't help but feel ashamed. He was stumped, saddened by the fact that he had played by the rules and had very little to show for it, potentially even less if a particular chat or two with his girlfriend ended in a certain way. But it could be worse.
He remembered reading 'down and out in Paris in London' where Orwell wrote about a strange feeling of freedom you experience when you're homeless. Falling so far down the pecking order it couldn't get any worse. He wished for that freedom. Maybe not that freedom in particular, but any sort of liberation from his present situation. He hadn't felt what he believed to be freedom since his days in college. He was an outgoing individual then, no real ill will towards anything. A stable and safe home space left him with no distaste. He distinctly recalls an unimpeachable sense of optimism coursing through his veins. But less than a decade later it is an arduous task for him to envisage a future where he isn't utterly dissatisfied with his existence. Is it rational? Definitely not, but even his less than frequent use of social media has warped his sense of self in all aspects. However, there are times when he visits his childhood home, sits on his old couch, chats to his dad about the weather and his mind becomes instantly flooded with happy thoughts. However, the sad reality is that these thoughts are almost exclusively focused on the past. But still, it could be worse.
By Jim O’Connell
