As a neurodivergent mum, I gave everything to my children and had very little left for myself
I'd done everything they say you're supposed to do in your 30s – I had a good job as a teacher, I bought my first house with a good man, and I had two beautiful girls. And yet, I was the loneliest I'd ever been.
I was alone and filled with a rage that I couldn't understand. I had followed a certain trajectory my whole life, one that my mother and my grandmother also followed before me. I used to think of it as the 'end goal' – being in a relationship, being a mother and everything else that comes with that.
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Irish Independent
11 hours ago
- Irish Independent
As a neurodivergent mum, I gave everything to my children and had very little left for myself
Performance poet Anna Doran speaks about the feminine rage that inspired her Dublin Fringe Festival show I'd done everything they say you're supposed to do in your 30s – I had a good job as a teacher, I bought my first house with a good man, and I had two beautiful girls. And yet, I was the loneliest I'd ever been. I was alone and filled with a rage that I couldn't understand. I had followed a certain trajectory my whole life, one that my mother and my grandmother also followed before me. I used to think of it as the 'end goal' – being in a relationship, being a mother and everything else that comes with that.
RTÉ News
28-07-2025
- RTÉ News
Alison Spittle: "Weight has been a constant war in my life"
Comedian Alison Spittle joined Brendan O'Connor on RTÉ Radio 1 to discuss her new show, Big, which she is bringing to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and Dublin Fringe Festival. Based on her weight loss journey using prescription injections, the show explores her relationship with her body going back to childhood and how she navigates people's reactions to her weight now. "I was going to call it Fat B***h, that's what I was going to call it," she says, clearly thrilled to be cursing on Radio 1. "But, unfortunately, you couldn't put it on a poster." "It's about being a fat b***h, basically, Brendan," she continues, dryly. "Last year, I got into some health difficulties, and I believe that's known as f-ing around and finding out stage of my life." On the advice of doctors, Spittle tried to lose weight the "normal way" but struggled to get the results she needed. Eventually, she decided to try weight-loss injections, an experience that inspired much of her new show. "The best thing about losing weight is now I can catch buses," she deadpans. "Before, buses weren't for me. I was manifesting. I was like, what's meant for me won't pass me." "The worst about losing weight," she adds, "is that people treat me nicer." Going back to the beginning, Brendan asked Alison about her relationship with her body. "I've been fat since I was eight years old," she says, explaining that a lifetime of comments about her weight never once inspired her to become thinner. When told she would have to lose weight to make it in comedy, for example, she became all the more determined to succeed exactly as she was. When it came to critical comments and verbal abuse, for the most part, the comic found that she could see that the issue fell with others rather than herself. "If a fella comes up to you in Temple Bar and calls you a fat b***h, he's not doing it out of concern for your health," she says. Growing up during the Celtic Tiger years, Spittle says that women were constantly being valued on their appearance, whether it be an actress on TV, or an Irish model being photographed walking around town in a bikini. "I felt by staying fat, I was rebelling against that culture," she muses. "When I wanted to change its because I was unwell and I was scared. And then I realised I couldn't change. Like, that was scary." Spittle says that her health complications forced her to face her addictive behaviours towards food: "I barely ate because I was hungry, it was always around emotion." Bed-bound for two weeks, the comic says she "nearly died" during the health scare that led her to research weight loss drugs. Unfortunately, the process wasn't easy, with one doctor telling her that he didn't want her to have "an easy out". "What does that mean? It means that they don't want a fat person to have it any easier to lose weight. That's associated with punishment," she states. Eventually, Spittle was given a prescription for Mounjaro, which almost immediately took away the gratification she usually found from eating. "It's taken the joy out of eating for me, definitely, but that's grand," she says, acknowledging that although the "dopamine" is gone, the reasons why she became addicted to food have yet to be dealt with. Still in the early days of so much change, she says that coping with how people react to her can be challenging, and getting to know her new body and lifestyle is changing all the time. One thing she is clear on? No matter her weight, she never waited for life to begin. Some of her happiest days and most impressive accomplishments happened before weight loss, and she doesn't want to put down that past version of herself.
RTÉ News
14-07-2025
- RTÉ News
New scheme to assist Dublin Fringe Festival performers with accommodation
The Dublin Fringe Festival (DFF) has launched a pilot scheme to help performers with accommodation, with many of those travelling from outside the capital finding it increasingly difficult to secure a place to stay. DFF is a multidisciplinary arts festival that takes place every September giving performers of all kinds - from musicians to playwrights - a platform to showcase their work. However, many of them travelling from outside of Dublin say they are finding it increasingly difficult to secure affordable accommodation while gigging there. This year the festival has launched a "Digs List" initiative in an attempt to alleviate accommodation costs for artists who are coming from outside the city. Festival Director Bee Sparks explained that the scheme is now a necessity for many of their performers. " We work with a lot of artists and part of our remit is to support artists, not just from Dublin but from across the country, and also sometimes international artists who come and take part," she said. She added: "We're aware that housing in Dublin is really difficult. It can be really cost prohibitive for people to kind of take part in Fringe. We know it can be up to €2000 for one person to stay for a week. "We looked at what's happening in other countries like the UK, they have formalised digs lists, so we decided to kind of pilot this scheme to trial. "What it would be if we could create somewhere where people with spare rooms could connect with artists to try and alleviate that kind of financial burden a little bit." Belfast theatre maker Seón Simpson is one of the many performers who will be taking part in this year's festival. "The way Dublin is, people would be spending €200-€300 a night for half a bedroom, it doesn't make any sense. So something like this is perfect" She made her Dublin debut at the Fringe back in 2019 and now frequently travels to the capital to perform. However, she says that each year has become increasingly difficult for herself and her team to participate in the city's arts scene due to rising costs. "Every year we have noticed a really big increase in both transport costs and housing costs. Our last time we were here, we were here for the first fortnight of the festival and I think the cost of somewhere for us to stay in an apartment for our team had tripled." "It used to be 'last minute dot com' that we would have been able to book a hotel room. There was one night we got the Gresham Hotel for €40 which we have never been able to get since," she said. At the festival launch last Wednesday, performers past and present welcomed the new initiative. Whilst paying a fee for a spare room is nothing new, it's the first time the organisers have officially promoted the practice of Digs, making it easier for performers to participate at this year's event. "We're not doing it to make money out of it. We're doing it to be an open door and an open room for people that need a room when they come to Dublin to make work and make art" Musicians Ahmed Kareem Tamu and Darragh Abdera who are both performing at the DFF this year believe that the scheme will be beneficial for everyone in the industry. "As an artist, when you're going down and you're being looked after for the duration of your performance at a place, it really does just take a thing off the list to be worrying about" Mr Abdera explained. "The way Dublin is, people would be spending €200-€300 a night for half a bedroom, it doesn't make any sense. So something like this is perfect. It's giving a host an option to make a bit of money and then also giving somebody an inexpensive place to stay," said Mr Tamu. Jean Hally from Inchicore is one of the several Dubliners opening up her home to DFF performers this year. Having worked in the theatre industry for 15 years, she says she knows how difficult it can be to find affordable accommodation, which is why she and her partner John felt compelled to sign up to this year's Digs List. "We charge €50 a night which works at about €350 a week, and I think you would get a hotel in Dublin at the moment between €120 and €200 a night. "We're not doing it to make money out of it. We're doing it to be an open door and an open room for people that need a room when they come to Dublin to make work and make art and I think that that's much more important than making money out of it". Dublin Fringe Festival 2025 will run for two weeks and takes place from 6-21 September.
