A few weeks ago, I wrote this post about my experiences, good and bad, growing up in Northern Ireland. It sparked a few interesting conversations, and I guess I felt that it deserved a bit of a follow up.
Maybe it was my fault for writing in to vague & generic a tone. I don’t mean to paint N.I. with such broad strokes… for all it’s size, it is an incredibly diverse little country.
My post was written from a deeply personal perspective; shaped by my experiences growing up there. Others have had completely different experiences, no less valid.
The post was coming from a place of truly grappling with my past for the first time; with being ready to start to face the fears and hurts I carry from it, as well as the joys.
Those experiences I wrote of come from a particular set of circumstances.
It comes from growing up in the D.U.P. heartland, “Ulster Says Never” area.
It comes from watching a friend be run out of her home because she was the “wrong” religion for the village.
It comes from a lack of space to question.
It comes from attending 5 funerals by the age of 23, only one of which was for someone above the age of 30.
Those are a few of the things that have shaped, moulded, and marked me. They are (some of) what I wrestle with in my dark nights. So, please forgive me if my previous post was too broad-sweeping and perhaps not quite honest enough. It’s all a learning curve, right?