Does restricting teens somehow give them freedom?

Girl with phone sally o'reilly
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If you’re from Ireland, you may have heard of Knockadoon Summer Camps. They’re an Irish language summer camp, very popular, and just around the corner from me – well, practically, perhaps not quite literally…

Anyway, a friend of mine had her 2 kids there for the 2nd or 3rd consecutive year and I decided to pop over and meet them all, see how they were getting on. Maybe try and get some scandal re potential romances etc – y’know, the usual old-person-embarrassment rituals (they’re so tolerant of me these two!)

They had a friend with them who I immediately decided to adopt, no surprise there, happens all the time. They looked well, clearly happy and relaxed so I didn’t anticipate much in the way of complaints. And after the hilariously frenzied scrambling over their mom for clothes, shoes and food we went for a stroll to the beach so we could watch the hardy folk – my crazy friend included – go swimming in the icy water (slight, only slight exaggeration). It was a gorgeous day.

We sat on the sand, sipped our cold drinks, and soaked up the sun. I’m always amazed at how kids love coming here, beautiful as it truly is. I was allergic at that age. Nothing would have persuaded me to go to Irish College. Nothing. So what do these kids love about it so much??

I asked my burning question:

“Soooo what’s your favourite thing about coming here?”

They were all seasoned students who’d been there before. They knew what they were at, the lay of the land so to speak. Used to the rules and boundaries, the staff, the parties, the work, and the unpredictable weather.

I was expecting the answer to be something about the social life, the craic in the dorms, or maybe being away from siblings or parents or just being near the sea even, but no. The answer came quick as a flash –

“Not being allowed have our phones” said one. “YA!” Say the others – immediately. ZERO hesitation. “That’s the best bit. It’s actually really nice”

Wow! Did NOT see that coming.

They spoke about not “having” to check their socials, getting to sleep sooner and better. Not having it get in the way of conversations. All good. And I looked at their faces. They were so sincere, so excited and now that I thought of it actually – the two I knew did look a lot better and more rested than usual.

Wow again.

We know this to be true, we know we’re all better off without our phone being glued to our hands and eyes, taking us away from ourselves and each other every hour of every day. We know we don’t sleep as well as we would without. We feel it creeping into our souls – the intrusion, the comparison, the dissatisfaction, the tension, the stress, the arguments.

These are the things they noticed too, these wise teens. They guessed they mightn’t keep it up back in the ‘real’ world. But they got a taste of what they agreed was freedom.

We sat back and watched my friend swimming, their friends diving off the pier, a cute toddler making a tunnel in the sand as her excited puppy-friend wagged and watched.

I kept my phone in my bag.

And I didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.

A terrible Beauty

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I was sitting with my husband outside a coffee shop in my hometown of Youghal the day before the much anticipated Ironman 22 last week. It was a glorious hot sunny day and we were basking in the excitement and pre-event buzz that was taking over the town. I felt a gorgeous huge pride and affection bursting out through my chest and I was loving every moment of it… This really was the perfect day. Just perfect. And everyone was happy, smiling and being lovely.

And I gotta say it does help my mood to be surrounded by near ‘perfect’ specimens of the human form. I am in awe of our potential, our strength, our resilience. (How DO they have the discipline to do all that training? I mean, I do know I suppose, we all do, I get it, it’s just not for me.) But my goodness a healthy human being is a beautiful creature. If only that was our effortless, default, post-chocloate-and-taytos setting… but I digress as usual.

These perfect, almost alien like creatures were everywhere that day. Just parading past us as if they were normal people. The cheek. Yup – it was people-watching paradise!

And two of them were approaching our table. The woman in front, her partner behind. The perfect magazine couple. She had sculpted legs and steady stride – how did she get her hair to shine like that? Did she weave teenyweeny little nano light strings in there? As for him – well he was fresh out of a toothpaste/Nike/ Calvin Klein sorta hybrid ad – just wow. I sipped my coffee and thought gosh, these people are perfect – Insta-Perfect… The kind of perfect to which we’re taught to aspire and to emulate.

She veered to avoid another Adonis and his Goddess partner walking in the opposite direction and BANG!! She grazed her beautiful leg on the table next to us. Just a tad – no blood or anything. She wasn’t hurt. She kept going. The guy at the table barely registered it and went back to his paper. But her partner sure registered it.

“Jesus Christ woman! That’s what you get for not going in a straight line – idiot! – LOL” And he rolled his eyes laughing and looking at us all, wanting us to join in. “Guys, I apologise for her…jeez.” Shook his head and a dark rage clouded his perfect face. He was serious. Oh, no…

All that beauty, gone in an instant. Wow.

She kept walking, a slight tightening of the shoulders, didn’t miss a step. Kept ploughing forward as if nothing happened.

My husband gaped at me and I back at him. I gaped at the guy next to me and at a woman across. We all silently conversed, shaking our heads, our eyes communicating empathy and outrage and disbelief. Christ, that poor woman … what must she experience in private if he’s this bold in public?

How many near injuries, digs, insults, public criticisms, shamings? How many times has she ploughed on as if nothing had hurt her?

The atmosphere was changed now, polluted by his actions, our shock, our disbelief at what we had witnessed and in a sense also, what we allowed… Should we have said something? It was one of those situations where a million ideas come too late. Some of them perhaps not legal…

My coffee grew cold. There were surely at the other end of the street by now.

She grazed her beautiful strong leg on the table next to us. Just a tad – no blood or anything. She wasn’t hurt.

For support contact:

Mna Feasa Cork

Youghal Domestic Violence Project

A Short Happy Father’s Day Post

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Women baking
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We SO need a bit of craic

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