Do you know when you read a passage from a book that really resonates with you ? It can also happen with a TV series and that’s what happened to me.
On a friend’s suggestion, I started watching the Emmy Award-nominated Irish series “Normal people”(you can find it on BBC or on Youtube), based on the homonymous best-selling novel by the Irish author Sally Rooney (2018). The series really got my attention and it’s the brilliant proof that apparently simple stories are the ones that engage us the most.
It’s the story of a boy and a girl who meet in secondary school, in rural Ireland: she (Marianne) is considered to be a weirdo in school, always reading books on her own and without any friends, while he (Connell) is, I wouldn’t say popular, but accepted and perfectly integrated in the school community. On the other hand, Marianne comes from a rich family, whereas Connell has a quite modest background; his mum is a cleaner working in Marianne’s household and that’s how the two start to know each other better and get closer. A beautiful story made of friendship and deep connection on top of love develops between the two, during the 12 short episodes of the series, that cover four years of their lives.
If you haven’t watched the series yet I would suggest you stop here, to avoid any spoilers.
In the second last episode (11), Connell is told that his old school friend Rob has taken his own life. Shocked by the news, the boy quickly falls into depression and, advised by one of his friends, he decides to see a therapist.
In a 3-minute intense and moving monologue, his whole world of feelings comes to life, unveiling a sense of alienation and solitude that had started developing long before the terrible event.
Connell: “I don’t really click with a lot of people….I struggle with that actually”
Therapist: “Do you think it’s a new problem or is it familiar to you?”
Connell: “….It’s familiar, I would say…In school I definitely felt that feeling of isolation or whatever but…people seemed to like me. Here, I don’t think that people like me that much. Like Rob, my friend who … I wouldn’t say that we clicked on a very deep level or anything but we were friends. I wouldn’t say that we had a lot in common in terms of interests, or anything and definitely not politically but we never really examined that. But that stuff didn’t really matter in school, because we were in the same group of friends, so, you know. And he did some stuff that I wouldn’t have been a fan of in terms of, like, with girls, but we were 18, you know, we acted like idiots. I think I felt a bit alienated by that stuff.
And, I think I thought if I moved here I’d fit in better. I thought I’d be with more like-minded people but that just hasn’t … I left Carricklea thinking I could have a different life. But, I hate it here and I can never go back because those friendships are gone and Rob is gone and I can’t see him again. I can’t get that life back.”
Paul Mescal’s brilliant performance really managed to transport me (and I am sure many other viewers) into Connell’s inner world.
I think this monologue directly addresses and challenges especially those people who lived abroad or even just moved to another city during their studies. Everything seems possible and exciting in those three, four or five years of studies. We meet lots of new people, we experience different lifestyles and encounter new mentalities. We are curious and open to anything new that might potentially enrich us. Some might call it FOMO (Fear of Missing Out), the imperative that pushes us to go to any event and party, not to miss any opportunity of growing, evolving, changing or meeting someone or something new. It’s because deep down we have a hidden expectation that all of this novelty of surroundings and people will bring us something unexpected and life changing. Maybe it’s just a matter of naivety, but I am sure most of us have felt that way at some point.
Some of us leave, like Connell, in the hope of finding something better than we are used to; some others leave because they think the world is too big and different to limit ourselves to see it from just one perspective. But beware here: Connell didn’t escape from a situation of complete isolation: he was well-accepted in school and he had friends whom, even if not on a deep level, he connected to. However, despite not being alone, he felt lonely on a deep level. He hoped in Dublin he would find more like-minded people, which sadly was not the case.
It happens to all of us: we are brought to think that our current situation is always worse than what we haven’t experienced yet. That’s why we are always tempted by what’s new even if it’s unknown, whether it is a new job or a new partner or a new city.
The problem with leaving is that nothing will ever be the same when we come back and we possibly underestimate this factor when taking such important decisions. We change deeply and we have the feeling that back home everything stays the same (in the end we left, not them, right?). But looking more carefully it’s not true that back home everything remains frozen: also the people who stay change and our relationship with them consequently.
And it’s not a matter of how good we are at staying in touch. People change, situations change and that’s just how life goes. And I think in a way we have to come to terms with this.
Going back to Connell, Rob’s suicide is just the tip of the iceberg. Connell’s introvert and reflective personality has been feeling this sense of inadequacy for a long time, but it’s only through this episode that the real problem emerges. He’s torn between two worlds: the one of his childhood and youth and the one of adulthood. Connell’s despair is triggered by the realization he doesn’t belong to either of them anymore. Hence his complex feelings of alientation and loneliness.
Probably life will work everything out. Maybe all the questions that trouble him now will only find their answers in time. Probably, feeling small and lost is the necessary condition of growing up, so that we can adjust our bearings and start building our lives on a more aware and solid ground, one day. But while we’re in the process of doing so, it’s hard to judge, so we can only feel and silently understand. And that’s how I felt Connell’s words resonating in my soul: clear and loud.
My sweet spot 