it is nearly one am in them morning, thinking of Johnny Cash

                 thinking upon Johnny Cash

come away o human child

to the waters and the wild

for the world is too full of weeping

for you to understand.... 

yep, i am.

To see the great man at the piano...his last...great.

weeping buckets.

i knew then how he felt as i feel it now.

today i had bone eating depression.

trauma.

wicklow.

health

future

friendship

kindness

love

family

equality

Ana Chi my lovely eldery chihauhua

i am so so saddened at what has happened me on coming to what i really did think would be the place i would be finally happy, happy to die here, happy to have this decade, this window away from threat and harm.
away from terror and sleepless nights.

what have i got.
i have got harm.  plenty of sleepless nights.

no, no one shoots at me here.
no one spits at me or rings my door bell in a drunken stupor at all times in the night.
no one jumps walls to attack.

nor do i have children throwing hurley balls at me, juice bottles, water bombs or sitting on the high boundary walls and taunting me.
that prison of a tiny place away from all i had known.

Please try think on this.
i was born in a posh area, it was leafy and green and gentle and quiet.
birds sang.
but even then the times were hard in my house.
there wasnt any money there, and a fair bit of charity towards us.

leaving school i was very troubled and got into trouble.
i was abused by a priest, Fr. Richard Lohrelein of the Marianist Order which are based in Ohio USA.
i was also raped in the bushes of St. Patricks Hospital Dublin.
these things happened.
i ended before i returned to suberbia, in a tiny unit, so small you couldnt even open a standard manual wheelchair to sit in it.  there wasnt enough space.
so small there there six floorboard lengths between the fire grate and the only chair in the sitting room.
so small i couldnt do a floor exercise regime i had done before being moved here.

the child with the gun
who shot at me as i lay on the
swingseat below her, she peers
down with distorted facial
espression.  i have snapped
her with the camera i was
learning about.

so small i couldnt even have my exercise bike or my large ball.
nor could i do my artwork as there was no space.

finally i was shot at.
here is the image of the child who shot at me.
look at this face and ask yourself should these things be happening in ireland?

and if they do how should the authorities behave and act.
how can it be so, that even when all knew the unit was not suitable for a very sick and single lady in the middle now of alcoholic men as only one or two women remained.
all were moved with their children.
so while they were moved for safety, i was moved in!  Literally.

why so.
why did this happen.

but i managed to flee with the help of my twin sister.
gone were the threats of violence against my person.
I had an OT manager there say 'this is all very distressing'  she was genuinely upset.
i had a physiotherapist try to help me set my new place right, picking between my belongings and broken furniture as it had all fallen apart when i had arrived here.
slumped both the above found me in my new home bereft.
i was alone then.

but then i escaped to the Garden.
the Garden of Ireland.
economically it is what i could afford.
i had to move toward country in order to get a roof over my head.

did i know that in the best place to live in ireland, according to the sign on entering this township what would happen me here.
certainly not!
i thought i was coming closer to what i had known and most do better in such a place.

socio-economic status and all that, does count.
you do generally do better with the class you were brought up in, and that isnt being snobbish.
its just fact.

how could it have gone so pear shaped here?
how can it be that i am weeping every day here?
far more than in the small unit where i was shot at.
How come this county brought me back to therapy and yet, the last place a social housing unit so tiny it was worse than a prison cell and violent never brought me so low as to return to therapy.
therapy to try and boost the morale of trying to cope here and live here when everything says i want to be elsewhere.
no, the people here have done no harm.
only the care teams.
these people who are entrusted to care and watch over the vulnerable.

i wont have a person like the OT in my last place.
i have one who laughs in my face down the phone.
who threatens to take away powered wheelchairs

saying good bye to a trusted friend and helper, the tired metal has to be returned to the heartless hse

threatens me.
bullys me.
i had nothing like this in my last county.

but i am truly frightened now for the future.
what will become of me in a callous area of no care?
how can i get the care i know i need and will need.
to be suffering a rare disorder and disease you absolutely need the care and i am awake again with sickening fear for the future.

my twin who i love very much discussed with me the possiblity of moving away again.
to London uk.
to get as far away from here as possible.

we have in essence nothing to hold us here at all.
we are two souls lost but lost together.
two souls who understand about abuse and reign of terrors.
who feel frightened on a daily basis by most things.
especially the human species who have educated themselves to be involved in health.
i weep here now.
i could let out bellowing screams as i am in so much pain, physical pain.
pain that is not being attended too.
suspected broken fingers, three weeks since the fall.
an agonising knee three weeks from the same fall.
an achilles tendon that is now damaged beyond repair due to inaction of the hse to provide me with appropiate shoes and when the shoes do come they are found to be most inappropiate.

in fact the hse have damaged my health.
in response to inaction on the shoes, i am receiving more shoes, and more physio on the achilles.
thats more hse money.
inaction with the knee could mean a knee replacment or worse.
i wont be able to have a knee replacement because i have a muscle wasting disorder.

to think, my friends that i have a soul that loves the inanimate object of a mobility scooter.
i have a soul that loves a little chihuahua or two.

but the hse have no soul to cherish and care for a sick, disabled, elderly woman who has been raped, abused and traumatised.
instead they hate me.
certainly the venom has been stinging and strong.
not only have i seen it.
but a doctor has.

i yearn to see my erika and achmaat again.
these are the district nurse and physio i had up in dun laoghaire.
i loved them dearly.
down here i have no one to love.
no one who cares.
these two people visited me often because they liked me and cared.
down here no one visits me.
they dont care.
no one cares here in my adopted end of life county.
i hope people from wicklow read this.
they have destroyed a very good woman.
i am left feeling useless, apathetic, wasted and rotten with depression.

i am left feeling hatred of wicklow with every fibre of my being.
only because of the hse here.
if they realise that i can turn this all around and thank them.
i could be praising them.
thanking them
and expressing gratitude.
instead bitterness, sadness and traumatised by the way they have dealt with me and my arrival in this country.
If the TD's of this area read this, take note. these td's are simon harris, anne ferris, and others.

the silence of annoyance on your part, is the sadness of regret on mine.
i am lonely beyond measure.
i want to go home.
i want to go home.
i yearn for my home.
please, please, if someone who is kind and good reads this, help me get out of here and return home.
asap.