Kyla Cobbler: ‘With coercive control, I didn’t understand what was happening’

Growing up in Ballincollig, Co Cork, we were very much left to our own devices. It was a small-town vibe. I was working from no age, making money. We just had to. We didn’t want for anything that was our basic human rights, like clothes and hot water, but Doc Martens and that kind of stuff, there wasn’t money for that. You don’t see, when you’re 13 or 14, that you should be studying when you’re making money. Also I was so good at working and I was such an encouragement whore, like, “You’re great, Kyla, can you do an extra shift?” Getting all these compliments, I loved it. School years were the worst years of my life. My teachers thought I wasn’t trying, whereas I was really trying. I came from a household where there was a lot of conflict, and then going to school and being told that I wasn’t trying hard enough was the most disheartening and difficult time of my life.When I moved schools it was a bit better. I met Ms Costello, my English teacher in secondary school: she called me intelligent. She was very focused on getting me a diagnosis before my Leaving Certificate. The diagnosis was dys-everything: I have dyscalculia, dyslexia, dyspraxia. Dyspraxia showed up in my uniform: the top button, the shirt and tie, the heavy leather shoes and the tights around your belly button. I felt like I was in a straitjacket. Dyspraxia and dyslexia made me more solution-based, because everything was hard. It was like, “Right! Let’s find another way to do this!” When my mum and dad used to fight, I’d be like, “Watch me juggle? Want to see me dance?” It was a way of keeping the peace. READ MOREI left Ireland at 18 or 19 because of school, feeling very stupid. I went to Greece, then to Australia, then Milan, then Barcelona and now I’m in London. In Milan I was working in fashion houses. I got into a relationship with a charismatic older man, and it was like the death of me. I’d seen abuse. I’d worked in pubs. I’d seen men put their hands on their wives, push their wives. In my mind, an abusive man was someone obvious. When it was coercive control and manipulation, I didn’t understand what was happening. Writing about it in the book after all these years, I haven’t found anything funny in it. There are certain things that happen to women that aren’t funny and haven’t been dealt with and are normalised and terrifying.All through my 20s I was trying to find what I was. Comedy was my X-Men moment – you know when they hit their teenage years and have a superpower and they thrive? I didn’t have that until I was in my 30s. I never thought I was going to find something I could just do. I was afraid I was going to live my whole life and not have a purpose. As a comedian I can be nothing but myself. I get up on stage and I just talk and riff and have fun. Being open and honest and vulnerable, you learn more because people put their guard down and they’re much more willing to connect with you. [ ‘I was sitting having a whiskey with Tommy Tiernan, going, yeah, this is my life. What a gift’Opens in new window ]I’m 35. I’m at a point in my life when I would love to have children. I do [Instagram] stories where I chat about how I’m feeling. I think women are mothers. Being a mother isn’t just bearing children. All of us have that caring, nurturing kindness and ferociousness and fierceness. That for me is motherhood. I’m spiritual. I believe in the source, or the creator, but I’m like, it’s a woman. You can’t convince me it’s a man. My mental health is really good right now, but I do suffer with a touch of depression. I’m learning how to say no to things, to recognise when I need rest. I spent a long time being hyper-independent. So even though I met my husband Simon, fell in love and married, I’m still saying I can do it myself. He’s like, “Yeah, you can, you’re so capable, but I can also help.” It is a constant work in progress, learning how to receive help. I love Ireland. I think I’ll always love her. I think there’s a right-leaning undercurrent that is a bit scary, but maybe I’m just seeing things online and getting worried. Would I come back to Ireland? Never say never. If, one day, Patrick Kielty had to go on paternity leave and I had to come back and do The Late Late Show, I’d love to host The Late Late Show for a while. I love live TV. I love the buzz. I’m going to take over the world [laughs]. I want to do everything I can and have the most fun and keep my integrity and crush it. That’s the vibe.In conversation with Nadine O’ReganKyla Cobbler’s memoir Happy, Thank You. More, Please. is published by Hachette. kylacobbler.com