Running From Office: Eoghan Murphy’s Memoir of Chaos, Courage, and the Quest for a Good Night’s Sleep
Ah, the enigma of Eoghan Murphy—who, like a cheap IKEA furniture set, was once put together with great ambition only to collapse into a pile of bewildered chaos. As we dive into the depths of his memoir, Running From Office: Confessions of Ambition and Failure in Politics, we quickly find out that the only thing more unstable than the housing market during his time as Minister for Housing was Murphy’s mental state. And folks, let’s not sugarcoat it: when the numbers of those living in emergency accommodation hit a record 10,000, Murphy realized he wasn’t just a minister; he was also an accidental juggler of crises.
It turns out that amidst all this political upheaval, Murphy was experiencing a slew of personal crises fit for a daytime soap opera. After all, who among us hasn’t made a life-altering decision while grappling with relationship drama and an unexpected pregnancy? Talk about multitasking! And if you thought the predicament of balancing housing policies with a broken heart was hard, just wait until you see how he handled sleepless nights and “prescription shopping.” Who knew politics came with an optional dose of insomnia and self-medication?
Murphy’s memoir features some deliciously juicy admissions, where he seems to channel his inner David Brent, reflecting on how he felt “hypersensitive to criticism” and consumed with guilt. If the political arena were a schoolyard, he would definitely be the kid who is hoping nobody remembers he was the last to be picked for dodgeball. One can almost hear him crying, “But I had a plan!” much like a child who forgot their homework right before the big test.
As he recounts his time at the helm of housing, Murphy drops some staggering truths, like a comedian revealing their best-kept secrets on stage. He admits to some big mistakes and missteps that led to ‘housing emergency’ being the buzzword of 2019. In his efforts to declare a housing crisis an emergency—much like one might tackle a raging fire with a garden hose—he was met with skepticism. There’s something comically tragic about a politician emphasizing the importance of planning while simultaneously forgetting to carry out a cohesive alternative. It’s as if he thought he could just wing it, like the rest of us when attempting to bake a soufflé without a recipe.
But let’s unpack the man himself. Murphy was supposed to be the golden child of Fine Gael, the rising star among politicians, yet he winds up sounding like the slightly frazzled parent trying to keep their kids in line while spinning plates on their heads. His moments of emotional turmoil are relayed with the same raw intensity one might expect from a drama series—complete with night runs through rain-soaked streets. The phrase “meltdown” springs to mind, but ironically, it’s not even a hashtag you could hashtag as a trend on social media anymore.
Fast forward to life beyond politics. After burning out, Murphy lamented the pleasure of public engagement that had turned into a circus of scrutiny. Unsure how to function freely, he had become a ghost in his own life, avoiding cafes and public places, as if they were haunted houses filled with angry critics wielding pitchforks and posters demanding accountability. He opted for a thoroughly off-the-grid existence, trading political debates for mountain running in Wales and the serene silence of international election observation missions.
In the end, Murphy claims he holds no regrets about his time in politics, which is fine—because let’s be real, we can’t all just take a look back at our blunders and pretend we were charmingly erratic all along. His memoir serves more as a testimonal piece of a politician desperate to have a say in the tragedies he witnessed, while framing it under the guise of understanding one’s own mental health.
My takeaway? Politicians are just as human, messy, and, dare I say, relatable as the rest of us. Murphy’s experiences remind us that sometimes, what lies under all that ambition can often be a high-pressure environment, one that comes with a price tag. Let’s raise a glass to Eoghan Murphy: may his future be filled with less chaos, more clarity, and perhaps a touch of self-awareness—because, honestly, we could all use a little bit of that, couldn’t we?
So here’s to Running From Office: a read worth picking up if you enjoy watching political intrigue unfold with all the finesse of an episode of Office Office meets House Hunters.
In a significant turning point during the spring of 2019, the number of individuals relying on emergency accommodation officially crossed the alarming threshold of 10,000, marking a crisis for Ireland.
Eoghan Murphy, who had served as the Minister for Housing for less than two years, reflected on this milestone in his memoir, *Running From Office*, describing it as a stark representation of his failure in this crucial role: “The 10,000 was a symbolic figure in terms of capturing my failure in the job. I picked up the phone to one of my brothers and asked him for help. It was time to resign.”
Murphy faced an unexpected personal crisis shortly afterward when he discovered that his ex-girlfriend was pregnant. This revelation halted his resignation plans, and for a brief two-week period, they attempted to reconcile, only to be met with the devastating news that the pregnancy was not viable, prompting another immediate split.
Reflecting on his emotional turmoil during this period, Murphy candidly recounts, “I wasn’t capable of processing it. And it all just crashed down on top of me. So I selfishly went away to bury it all as deep down as I could. I drank for a week, recklessly, stupidly.”
Murphy’s account of his tumultuous tenure addresses the overwhelming pressure and failure he experienced in his role, identifying it as a formative period filled with self-doubt. Today, from a video link in Tbilisi, Georgia, he shares insights as the head of the OSCE election observation mission, a position he deeply enjoys, stating, “It is political. But it is not politics.”
After leaving politics, Murphy attempted to manage his feelings and health, grappling with difficulties in sleeping. He admits to resorting to “prescription shopping” in a desperate attempt to find relief, highlighting how the pressures of his ministerial role took a toll on his well-being.
At his lowest points, he cried openly in front of then-Taoiseach Leo Varadkar while expressing his desire to step down as minister. During a troubling London trip, he found himself emotionally overwhelmed, pacing the rain-soaked streets and battling feelings of panic as he questioned his decisions and direction in life.
Murphy’s memoir exposes the stark contrast between his initial idealism and the crushing realities he faced as Minister for Housing. His recollections drive home the impact of self-doubt, especially during his years in political office. In hindsight, he acknowledges, “There were some big mistakes or missteps that I made early on in housing.”
Determined to change the state of housing, Murphy initially sought to declare it an emergency and proposed leveraging the National Asset Management Agency (Nama) for swift housing solutions. Nevertheless, his ambitious ideas were consistently pushed back, hampering his ability to create a cohesive plan that might have rallied public support.
He expressed regret for failing to communicate a clear plan to the public: “People need to understand you have a plan … but I wasn’t able to come out with my plan.” His high expectations faltered due to a series of missteps, including notable initiatives such as the Land Development Agency and the controversial approach to co-living housing models.
With overwhelming stress contributing to a decline in personal health, he remarked, “One of my big failures is that I didn’t manage my personal health properly.”
About his book, he states, “I did not want the book to be a standard political memoir but rather an honest account about my mistakes and their impact on me.”
Murphy emphasizes a psychological catharsis experienced during the writing process while addressing the intense pressures that had mounted during his tumultuous period in office. He reflects, “I found it very cathartic when I was writing it because I was really getting to grips with it from a mental health point of view.”
After briefly regaining his confidence, Murphy decided against running in the 2020 election, fearing the repercussions of stepping down before a critical time for his party.
Post-election, Murphy faced backlash surrounding a tragic event concerning a homeless man, further complicating his political standing as he dealt with hostile confrontations in public settings.
Ultimately, these pressures led to a poignant farewell as Murphy expressed his desire to leave public life: “I was just desperate to get out of the public eye. I really did not enjoy the attention that came with that.”
Upon exiting, he made a decisive choice to disconnect, staying away from social media and avoiding political commentary: “I don’t follow the politics … I wasn’t going to hang around or try to keep a toe in.”
Settling in London, Murphy has found fulfillment in his new career, leading election observation missions in various countries and embracing personal interests like mountain running in Wales. He has emphasized, “I loved my time in politics, in the round. It was a fantastic experience. It’s a great job and a huge privilege.”
He expressed no regrets about his political career, asserting his proactive approach and contentment as a private citizen.
His memoir *Running From Office*, which took six months to write, serves as a final reflection on his journey through politics: “This book isn’t about me trying to get back into politics or be a commentator.”
Running From Office: Confessions of Ambition and Failure in Politics is published by Eriu, £16.99
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Acknowledged the challenges of navigating the turbulent waters of public life, stating, “When you’re in politics, you’re under constant scrutiny, and that can really take a toll on your mental health.” His vulnerability shines through as he shares the reality of balancing high-stakes responsibilities with personal turbulence, an experience that many might find all too relatable.
In his journey from public service to personal recovery, Murphy illustrated how escaping the limelight allowed him to reconnect with himself. Rather than seeking redemption through traditional pathways, he explored alternative avenues of growth, such as participating in outdoor adventures and international missions where he could apply his political insights in less combative environments.
Ultimately, *Running From Office* is not just an exploration of Murphy’s political failures but also a journey of self-discovery amid chaos. It serves as a poignant reminder that everyone, regardless of their status, faces struggles that can lead to profound self-reflection and unexpected growth. For readers, Murphy offers not merely a candid look into the complexities of political life but also a glimpse into the raw humanity behind those who inhabit that world. As he steps away from the political stage, his experiences resonate with a powerful message about resilience, vulnerability, and the importance of prioritizing mental health—even amidst the clamor of a rigorous public life.
