Isnt it difficult to live?
it was a rainy, overcast day in Dublin.
Yet many braved it to trawl, drink coffee, mingle and meet friends.
Yes, i did the same, just the same.
the chihuahua with a temperature had to be seen to immediately, my little plum pudding is unwell with a gastric problem and i am to watch her - like a hawk.
right now she is enveloped in my dressing gown cuddled up to her half sister.
my pudding was duly returned to the care of her sister whilst i took it on board to go to Dun Laoghaire, armed with flyers for pre-budget considerations.
One was my experience during my rehousing and the distress incurred with the local country council.
the other, i am very pleased to say, was the leaflet for the national campaign, 'thinking ahead' for the umbrella group for all who are neurologically challenged facing inadequate services as we have now.
in fact we are way down in the league table for services in the EU, near the bottom in fact.
I was struggling today with a red walking stick and exhaustion.
the head too was overcast and loaded down.
I sensed the very difference that was my body, and my soul and attitude to my human brothers.
I felt the walking on an earth and space of others and being a complete 'disconnect' within society.
Yes, people try to be rather caring but over caring in all the wrong ways.
it is nice to have a door opened to help you indeed.
it is nice to receive the silent smile.
It is not nice to find that the voices once heard are not there. the banter within my community as once i stood at traffic lights and commented on the 'time that is in it.'
I am met with the very unnerving stare, the unnerving silence and the distant look of many who actually wanting for some reason to focus their gaze just beyond the back of my head!
this i learn in photography, its a skill, to take in the middle and distance by focusing with a lense and changing the aperture and shutter speed to do so.
ah the human eye does it so automatically.
we find the ability to focus where we want, at will and willingly done as need suits.
It was a silent meander around the charity shops, on the way picking up some nice cheapies and a fantastic bed wedge, super in fact.
I met the gaze of Ciaran Cuffe our Green Party representative.
I stopped and talked.
it was not easy, knowing that he is aware of my difficulty and relationship with the deputy leader of his party.
it wasnt easy at all, to stand there and not feel the pressure that was in my brain, the pressure of depression as he stood there the reminder to me that i have been cut off and cut out of all my familial relationships from here on in, because of the political lack of will to deal with my very difficult situation in housing.
He had not heard i had been shot at.
I am fully aware that i had told him, and his deputy leader!
this is one of the small indicators that those at the top do not make it known to their members to take note of their constituents.
no note of warning to ask and discover why one of their own was placed in a vulnerable situation, when it was made known to them.
also made known were the steps my twin and i had to take to address this, in a very drastic way, leaving both in financial worries for the future.
but the load of disconnect right now is the prominent feeling after two years of hell on earth.
I prepped for a trip to a cafe with two books to distract me.
the girl at the till and coffee dispenser was suspicious when i asked for the coffee at the table and then i would pay.
i had been struggling to find the coppers in my bag.
her hesitancy is a sign of the times.
even for one who is physically challenged.
my coffee was not made until i waved with a clenched fist in her direction as i was seated, to indicate i had a clump fisted of coppers for her, and for my latte.
also the level of disconnect was felt in the grumped 'huh' i received from a large obese man when i asked if it was ok if i sat at his table as many were full.
the disconnect too, more hugely felt when a woman who was at art college with me, and a great friend, i had thought, only meeting her in her house last weekend, was supping with a friend and acknowledged with a bit of small talk never asked me to join them and from then on in, i sat alone.
the gaze at my books was difficult. i now see the cataracts obscure the letters and my eyes are tired through sjogrens syndrome.
it was a massive time of reflection.
the ability to look at the world in a totally different way, as i sat watching what most would consider 'normal' discourse amongst lovers, partners, children and intellectuals etc.
and there alone is a person part still by having pumping blood in her arteries, watching in a case of glass and the glass is recognised by her as depression to herself alone, and alone will be it.
Nah i couldn't cope, i do not go unnoticed for my difference of jiggers and stick and fumbling.
its the disconnect that is psychologically done and said so in un-worded language you never do hear.
the embarrassment of difference, on my part and that of others who do not have it, and do not know how to transcend difference and see a live human being in their midst.
i left.
my heart was in my boots, but not my brain which remained thinking and alive.
i walked back to the van, it was hard, i wasn't doing it as most would do.
it was more a laboured shuffle.
and it wasn't helped to know my college friend had taken a vantage seat on the second floor by the window with a full view.
how you do it, when it gets to this is a nightmare.
I opened the van. a woman in a car flashed her lights to let me cross, and a loud honk and wave was emitted, but i know not who she was.
i got in. i sat there sweating and weak, i felt bloody lousy. I knew i was unwell from the moment i got up.
who wants to spend a day on the bed.
i felt the tears trickling down the face, the wipers washed the rain away but not them.
i signalled to drive out and away, and away i went - back to the inappropiate social housing unit, up a long avenue away from the world, a physical disconnect from any community bar a community of men who drink almost daily, who all are alcoholics with diabetes to prove it.
and i am single, sick, disabled have been slapped in the middle of these men without any due consideration.
this to me is the level of barbarism that is happening not only to me but all who are different in this small country who once had the honour of being the hub of christianity and christian values.
why on earth did i bother entering out to feel what i felt.
to have small discourse with a small party member who is more concerned about oil and light bulbs than his sick constituents.
his political agenda did not mention social equality at all.
and to that i say, i am wedged on the bed, comfortably.
the dogs are in a huddle and we won the match!
god bless us for small mercies.
1 comment:
the lonliness of disability is horrendous. yesterday as my friends pushed me in my wheelchair they kept saying'you're doing well' as if i was a child attempting an outdoor adventure!
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