In Charlene Tyrrell’s tattoos there is a trail of clues. To where she has been in her life and how she came back.
The spare outline of a flamingo or the ornate image of a unicorn are flights of fancy; other tattoos peel back her skin.
“Grateful” is written along the spine of her right thumb, so that when she grips the steering wheel of her car the word catches her eye and directs her thoughts.
“I like journaling and it’s something I used to do every day, religiously, for years when I was really struggling [with my mental health]. I only do it now when I feel I need to. But because I don’t do it every day, I have these [tattoos] on my hands to remind me of things.
“I think of things I’m grateful for because I used to write them down every day. Then, here, [the words] ‘Let them’, which is a poem about people who leave your life. And then this [pointing to another tattoo], ‘I am enough’.
“I got this one [in the crook of her right arm] because I was trying to think of something to sum up our 2024 season and our management team. Their favourite word in the world is ‘believe’. So that was my word there, to mark our season.”
On training nights with Leitrim, Tyrrell prefers to drive alone to the pitch. Though she has no set playlists there must be music in the car. Her mood has many backing tracks. In her mind, she scrubs away the dead skin of her day.
“I have this thing, like, when I park the car, I park everything with the car. All my worries and stresses and things that are on my mind. I get out of the car and train and think about nothing only football and the girls. Then, when I get back into the car, everything feels lighter.”
When she first started playing football for Leitrim as a teenager, more than 20 years ago, it had no purpose other than fun. There was one season when she stepped away, and she can’t really remember why, except that it didn’t matter as much then.
![Charlene Tyrrell: 'I missed it [football] so much – being part of something. It is a massive part of my life now.' Photograph: James Connolly](https://www.irishtimes.com/resizer/v2/XF2IIVGXIZFRPLD63KRHZFZD7M.jpg?auth=64ca76d1aa9adec346cf9361104ab1adf484c9e815e0805b497a128b4e73311d&width=800&height=533)
Tyrrell was 34 when she returned to the Leitrim panel in 2020. She had been missing for 10 years. It wasn’t the promise of glory that lured her back, although that is how things panned out. In August, Leitrim won the intermediate All-Ireland for the first time since 2007 and at the LGFA awards on Saturday night, Tyrrell was on the shortlist for Player of the Year.
Coming back to football didn’t change her life; that corner had already been turned. What she recovered was a precious feeling. Tyrrell walked into a dressingroom without any of the connections that come from winning and losing and all the stuff in between. They took her into their embrace.
“It’s mad. I didn’t realise how important it is in my life until I came back from being away. I missed it so much – being part of something. It is a massive part of my life now.
“I would never have won awards for football when I was younger – in my teens or early 20s. I would never have been the best player on any team. But, I don’t know, I think I put less pressure on myself now. I remember in 2007, nearly being sick driving into the tunnel in Croke Park [for the All-Ireland final]. Whereas, this year, I just couldn’t wait to get out on the field.”
For the last few weeks she has been talking to teenagers in GAA clubs about their mental health, one of the facilitators of the Ahead of the Game campaign, jointly run by the GPA and Movember. Tyrrell doesn’t go into detail about her own experiences, although the young people know that she has suffered. She shares what she has learned. She should have looked for help. She should have been kinder to herself. Maybe she didn’t know how strong she was.
Tyrrell was 25 when she had Noah. She had met his Dad during a summer spent working in Portugal and they moved together to Shrewsbury in England, where he was from.
“I didn’t tell anyone for a long time – a few weeks – that I was pregnant because I was just, I suppose, so embarrassed. We were only together a few months. I didn’t actually know what I wanted to do with my life, never mind become a mother.
“But I sort of struggled then. Noah was born and I didn’t really have a supportive environment around me. I didn’t have my own friends and family there.”
Tyrrell didn’t know she was suffering from postnatal depression until Noah’s grandmother approached her. She was a midwife and could see the signs.
“I adored Noah and thankfully I went into a little bubble of just him and I. I know some women who suffer postnatal depression can’t physically care for their child. That was sort of the only thing that kept me going.”
Medication was prescribed. Nothing much improved.
“I never believed the tablets could make me better. I needed the right environment around me.”
Over time, their family life disintegrated. Noah’s Dad developed problems which Tyrrell felt drove them apart. They separated when Noah was three.
“He was drinking and using drugs. It just wasn’t the right environment for me and Noah to be in. There was just a really toxic environment.”
Tyrrell doesn’t know when the postnatal depression subsided and when other feelings flooded that space. Labels didn’t matter. She didn’t feel better.
“I think I internalised everything. I think I had this great ability for pretending that everything is okay, sort of fooling myself. Noah would go to his Dad for weekends and I’d go out and drink, but drink quite heavily, you know, to mask everything I was going through. That had a negative effect on me down the line.
“Things weren’t all bad, but I struggled and I was afraid to admit it because I think when you become a mother there is a fear in admitting that you’re struggling in any way. You’re afraid it’s going to reflect on you being a bad mother, you know, so I just internalised everything. I felt completely lost in those years in England. I didn’t know who I was any more. I didn’t know where I was going with life.”
Tyrrell tried to get on her feet. She weaned herself off the medication and started running again and going to the gym, “putting things in place to help myself”. She did an evening course as a personal trainer and took a waitressing job, but money was always tight, and nothing was settled. Noah was struggling in school and the Asperger’s that was diagnosed later still hadn’t been detected. She felt desperately alone.
“I never had a relationship after Noah’s Dad because we weren’t able to co-parent in a healthy way, so it was too volatile to bring anyone into that situation. I was just terribly lonely over there and I was afraid to admit this to anybody.”
In the summer of 2018, her feelings reached a tipping point.
“In June of that year I ended up in hospital. I took an overdose . . . I never wanted to die or anything. I was just so tired. So tired of feeling how I was.”
A psychologist in the hospital told her that the root of her problems were “circumstantial”. Tyrrell had already made the decision to move home.
“I think it all came to a head because I had years of just keeping so much inside me. Looking back now, I should have moved home sooner, but for years I couldn’t do it because I felt such embarrassment.
“Friends of mine at home were getting married and starting families and other friends had great careers or were living abroad and I just felt like, you know, I had nothing. I was a single mother, and I didn’t want to move home with people judging me. For years, that stopped me. Like, it’s mad, isn’t it?”
When they first moved home Tyrrell and Noah lived with her parents in Mohill for a few months until they found a place of their own to rent. Slowly, the fog began to clear. She took a course in sports therapy and started working with teams. And she went back to football.
“I started playing with Mohill again in 2019 and I was useless when I went back. Oh my God, I was hopeless. But I loved it. I started feeling like I belonged somewhere because for a very long time I just felt lost – like I didn’t belong anywhere. That’s something that football has always had for me. I just felt like it was somewhere I belonged, and, like, I was needed, you know, outside of being Noah’s mother.
“Lots of things started going right for me. I passed my driving test – I wasn’t driving when I was in England. I got a job. Noah was happy and settled in school and, yeah, life slowly started to get better. When I went back with Leitrim in 2020 it just sort of became part of mine and Noah’s life.”
Noah is 13 now. On the awards circuit over the last few weeks, he has been Charlene’s plus one. For the All-Stars last night he had a tux. In Croke Park, he climbed the steps of the Hogan Stand to lift the cup with his mother. In ways that didn’t need to be explained, they had done it together.
In the week of the All-Ireland, Tyrrell was accepted as a facilitator for the Ahead of the Game campaign. There was a week of training in Athlone, and there is a programme to follow for the workshops. But Tyrrell also wanted to tell a little of what she knew for sure.
“At the beginning I was like, ‘Oh my God, I’m a fraud, I’m here telling them about mental health and sometimes I’m nuts.’ But I love it. I think when you go through a lot of hard times you can relate, can’t you?
“If I had just told someone I was struggling it might not have got as bad as it did. When I reflect back, that one of my big conclusions. Had I just admitted I was struggling instead of being afraid of being judged.
“I am in a good place. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had hard times in my personal life throughout the year, but, like, I manage it. I am in a good place.”
Grateful.
♦ Struggling to cope and need someone to talk to? If you are looking for emotional support, please email jo@samaritans.ie or call the Samaritans on 116 123.
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