Hey!
My first radio interview will be hosted by Brenda Donahue on RTE Radio 1 on Wednesday 6th July 2016 at 10pm.
It's about our success and during the Celtic Tiger and then our losses when the recession hit.
My nervous break-down,
How we coped with our family and friends support!
And how I discovered my new path of writing!
Please listen!
Jean xxx
Tuesday 5 July 2016
Thursday 28 April 2016
The Wedding!
My son's wedding day arrived at super speed on Saturday 23rd April 2016.
I was going to be 'The Mother of the Groom!' I was quite excited to tell you the truth. It's no small task being mother of the groom. I know the better title is 'Mother of the Bride!' But I have to be grateful for small pickings. And my rival, 'Mother of the Bride' is a lovely woman so we were going to sail along on the day itself like the perfectly organised pair we were.
It had been an emotional roller coaster ever since the engagement ring was placed on the fiancee all the way up till my son said 'I do!'
He's a tense lad is our son, a little bit shy and anti-social and a small bit moody, (He get's that side of his personality from his Dad!) So, as much as I was trying to be a helpful, non-pushy, non-busybody Mother, the little fecker wouldn't let me do anything! (At 49, I'm probably just too young to be Mother of the Groom! So we clashed! A lot! lol) But I trudged along like any good Irish Mother worth their salt would! With the determination of a Spirit that couldn't be broken!
For three whole weeks I cleaned my house while my hubby did the repairs and my brother in law did the painting, but I was happy with the result. Now it was ready for the day of the wedding, when our whole family would come and scruffy it up again! The hairdresser and makeup girls set up their stations. To be fair, they had their work cut out for them. My face had grown a thousand more wrinkles that week alone and my hair was a hard one to tame! But, they did it! The pair of them worked tirelessly till we were all gorgeous. Even my youngest had that much desired pageant make-up she had always desired! She was to be junior bridesmaid and she hadn't slept in weeks with excitement!
The house soon filled with friends, neighbours and relatives and the bubbly was poured. The sun came out and it was a beautiful day. Not a heatwave by no means, but Ireland always has a habit of down-pouring on newly married couples or drizzling down on already miserable mourners while burying their beloved relatives. The rain is supposed to be good luck, but really, how lucky is the bride who's beautifully styled hair has gone all frizzy from the damp? Or indeed, how lucky is the beloved dead person covered in heavy wet muck?
Well in this case the sun was lucky for all us Murray's because everybody was in great form as we headed to the church. It was indeed a beautiful ceremony with the church filled with beautiful flowers and designer guna's. (dresses in Irish!)
As I mentioned before, my youngest child is 11 and although she was delighted to be all dressed up like a bridesmaid from 'My big fat gypsy wedding', she has a few sensory difficulties. While my oldest and his beloved were exchanging vows, my little one was peeling off her eyelashes and asking me to take out her hair pins, for all the church to hear!
We had initially made bets on who would cry first, the bride or the groom, but we were all wrong! My hubby was the one sobbing into the feathers on my fascinator! I didn't cry at all. My husband said I was as hard a stone. No, I was just praying that the bride wouldn't change her mind and say no, and then I'd have the little fecker back home with me again! I was smiling happily when they had signed that registry thingy. No going back now! Yey!
And then it got very chaotic. We all legged it to the venue, which must have been pre-warned for the various personalities arriving. They welcomed us all in with smiles on their faces and prayers in their minds....
And then I vaguely remember feeling like 'Steve Martin' in that great movie, 'Father of the Bride!' I seemed to bob along all over the place mingling with our guests. I kept arriving late to all the little special moments, cutting the cake, the speeches, the first dances....
As I said before, 'The Mother of the Bride' was a great match for me and we both took to our task of 'Hosts' like fish to water. We trudged through the crowd like professional cage fighters. We matched any alcoholic with our consumption of wine. We tenderly took care of our older relatives, hurrying them out the door, less we miss any fun. We minded the younger people, in the small hours of the morning making sure they were in their own beds......
We sorted out a little fight or two as we swallowed next years alcohol allowance as well as this years!
And when we finally headed off to be bed at 5.30 in the morning, we had no pyjamas, no tooth brushes, no glasses! And I know I shared my very expensive bed with my mother and two nieces and my hubby had the pull out bed on the floor!
Sure it was great fun!
Am I sad that my son has left me for another woman? Not at all.
I now have a new daughter and a whole new family to invite to my next Doo!
Jean xxx
I was going to be 'The Mother of the Groom!' I was quite excited to tell you the truth. It's no small task being mother of the groom. I know the better title is 'Mother of the Bride!' But I have to be grateful for small pickings. And my rival, 'Mother of the Bride' is a lovely woman so we were going to sail along on the day itself like the perfectly organised pair we were.
It had been an emotional roller coaster ever since the engagement ring was placed on the fiancee all the way up till my son said 'I do!'
He's a tense lad is our son, a little bit shy and anti-social and a small bit moody, (He get's that side of his personality from his Dad!) So, as much as I was trying to be a helpful, non-pushy, non-busybody Mother, the little fecker wouldn't let me do anything! (At 49, I'm probably just too young to be Mother of the Groom! So we clashed! A lot! lol) But I trudged along like any good Irish Mother worth their salt would! With the determination of a Spirit that couldn't be broken!
For three whole weeks I cleaned my house while my hubby did the repairs and my brother in law did the painting, but I was happy with the result. Now it was ready for the day of the wedding, when our whole family would come and scruffy it up again! The hairdresser and makeup girls set up their stations. To be fair, they had their work cut out for them. My face had grown a thousand more wrinkles that week alone and my hair was a hard one to tame! But, they did it! The pair of them worked tirelessly till we were all gorgeous. Even my youngest had that much desired pageant make-up she had always desired! She was to be junior bridesmaid and she hadn't slept in weeks with excitement!
The house soon filled with friends, neighbours and relatives and the bubbly was poured. The sun came out and it was a beautiful day. Not a heatwave by no means, but Ireland always has a habit of down-pouring on newly married couples or drizzling down on already miserable mourners while burying their beloved relatives. The rain is supposed to be good luck, but really, how lucky is the bride who's beautifully styled hair has gone all frizzy from the damp? Or indeed, how lucky is the beloved dead person covered in heavy wet muck?
Well in this case the sun was lucky for all us Murray's because everybody was in great form as we headed to the church. It was indeed a beautiful ceremony with the church filled with beautiful flowers and designer guna's. (dresses in Irish!)
As I mentioned before, my youngest child is 11 and although she was delighted to be all dressed up like a bridesmaid from 'My big fat gypsy wedding', she has a few sensory difficulties. While my oldest and his beloved were exchanging vows, my little one was peeling off her eyelashes and asking me to take out her hair pins, for all the church to hear!
We had initially made bets on who would cry first, the bride or the groom, but we were all wrong! My hubby was the one sobbing into the feathers on my fascinator! I didn't cry at all. My husband said I was as hard a stone. No, I was just praying that the bride wouldn't change her mind and say no, and then I'd have the little fecker back home with me again! I was smiling happily when they had signed that registry thingy. No going back now! Yey!
And then it got very chaotic. We all legged it to the venue, which must have been pre-warned for the various personalities arriving. They welcomed us all in with smiles on their faces and prayers in their minds....
And then I vaguely remember feeling like 'Steve Martin' in that great movie, 'Father of the Bride!' I seemed to bob along all over the place mingling with our guests. I kept arriving late to all the little special moments, cutting the cake, the speeches, the first dances....
As I said before, 'The Mother of the Bride' was a great match for me and we both took to our task of 'Hosts' like fish to water. We trudged through the crowd like professional cage fighters. We matched any alcoholic with our consumption of wine. We tenderly took care of our older relatives, hurrying them out the door, less we miss any fun. We minded the younger people, in the small hours of the morning making sure they were in their own beds......
We sorted out a little fight or two as we swallowed next years alcohol allowance as well as this years!
And when we finally headed off to be bed at 5.30 in the morning, we had no pyjamas, no tooth brushes, no glasses! And I know I shared my very expensive bed with my mother and two nieces and my hubby had the pull out bed on the floor!
Sure it was great fun!
Am I sad that my son has left me for another woman? Not at all.
I now have a new daughter and a whole new family to invite to my next Doo!
Jean xxx
Thursday 24 March 2016
What is a Criminal?
There's an easy answer to this; A criminal is a person who can go into an airport and blow up and kill innocent people. They can crash into whole buildings, destroying everybody in their path. They can deprive their country of food, shelter and education leaving innocent victims to their own terrifying fates of trying to take care of their children. Criminals own their women and constantly rape and beat them.
They can blame religion for the everything that goes wrong in the World.
Basically, a criminal is a person who hungers only for his own need and is driven by a hatred for others who get in his way.
As I watched the RTE news last night on my laptop from my holiday in Florida. They were reporting a murder which happened in my home town. I listened to the words, 'The man had been a known criminal who had received stolen goods and sold cigarettes in his past.' Although the reporter skimmed over the fact that the man had paid his tax debt to our Central Assets Bureau, he didn't mention that the man had also ran a legit furniture business that he built up from his youth and was forced to sell to pay his taxes. It was one of CAB's successful witch hunt's of the day which is typical of our Irish system. Go after the little people because you'll never catch the big ones.
I happened to grow up beside this 'criminal'. I knew his parents and family really well. I can tell you, they were hard working honest people and they raised their children to work hard.
We were the working class people. People who lived week to week to feed their families and pay their bills. Our parents and grandparents came from the tenements in Dublin. We were always chasing our tail.
We were poor people.
I suppose it's hard for people of wealth and education to understand what that's like. Poor people want nice things too. They want to send their kids to college. They want nice houses and they want to go on fancy holidays. They want to be recognised in society. And you know what? Poor people are not recognised in society. They were and are still discriminated.
God rest my own father, he lost his job in the 70's last recession and it broke his heart to be poor. He wanted better. He wanted a nice car. He dreamed of travelling the world. Unfortunately he died at age 64 when the pressures of raising a big family had just released him.
Not excusing theft, but I can understand why people wanted to make an extra few bob and I certainly know there's a market out there in the poorer society who would buy nice things cheaply or indeed their much needed cigarettes.
When you are earning just enough to pay your bills and feed your family, it's hard to save money and build on it. When I was growing up and I'm only 49, it wasn't heard of to go to college. Maybe one or two girls I knew of. We were never to realise by educating yourself further, that we would have the chance of a higher earning job in our future. We had to work hard with our hands and those who could work harder and longer and were clever enough to make an extra pound were the lucky ones. But we are not all the same. And some crimes are more criminal than others.
This 'criminal' was somebody's husband, somebody's father, somebody's grandfather, somebody's brother. Somebody's son.
What's going on today in Ireland is a different kind of crime. It's more terrorism than the so called terrorism of Ireland's rebel's who lost their lives fighting for Ireland's independence.
These new murderers have no conscience nor reason. These terrorists are killing to keep their drug world their sole empire. Because of the vast amount of money they are making.
Big money makes more big money and that gives these criminals big power. They can pay the best lawyers to keep them free and the best accountants to do their books.
Nobody can catch these big criminals.
So, the RTE will report about the little guys, but these are not Criminals.
Jean xxx
They can blame religion for the everything that goes wrong in the World.
Basically, a criminal is a person who hungers only for his own need and is driven by a hatred for others who get in his way.
As I watched the RTE news last night on my laptop from my holiday in Florida. They were reporting a murder which happened in my home town. I listened to the words, 'The man had been a known criminal who had received stolen goods and sold cigarettes in his past.' Although the reporter skimmed over the fact that the man had paid his tax debt to our Central Assets Bureau, he didn't mention that the man had also ran a legit furniture business that he built up from his youth and was forced to sell to pay his taxes. It was one of CAB's successful witch hunt's of the day which is typical of our Irish system. Go after the little people because you'll never catch the big ones.
I happened to grow up beside this 'criminal'. I knew his parents and family really well. I can tell you, they were hard working honest people and they raised their children to work hard.
We were the working class people. People who lived week to week to feed their families and pay their bills. Our parents and grandparents came from the tenements in Dublin. We were always chasing our tail.
We were poor people.
I suppose it's hard for people of wealth and education to understand what that's like. Poor people want nice things too. They want to send their kids to college. They want nice houses and they want to go on fancy holidays. They want to be recognised in society. And you know what? Poor people are not recognised in society. They were and are still discriminated.
God rest my own father, he lost his job in the 70's last recession and it broke his heart to be poor. He wanted better. He wanted a nice car. He dreamed of travelling the world. Unfortunately he died at age 64 when the pressures of raising a big family had just released him.
Not excusing theft, but I can understand why people wanted to make an extra few bob and I certainly know there's a market out there in the poorer society who would buy nice things cheaply or indeed their much needed cigarettes.
When you are earning just enough to pay your bills and feed your family, it's hard to save money and build on it. When I was growing up and I'm only 49, it wasn't heard of to go to college. Maybe one or two girls I knew of. We were never to realise by educating yourself further, that we would have the chance of a higher earning job in our future. We had to work hard with our hands and those who could work harder and longer and were clever enough to make an extra pound were the lucky ones. But we are not all the same. And some crimes are more criminal than others.
This 'criminal' was somebody's husband, somebody's father, somebody's grandfather, somebody's brother. Somebody's son.
What's going on today in Ireland is a different kind of crime. It's more terrorism than the so called terrorism of Ireland's rebel's who lost their lives fighting for Ireland's independence.
These new murderers have no conscience nor reason. These terrorists are killing to keep their drug world their sole empire. Because of the vast amount of money they are making.
Big money makes more big money and that gives these criminals big power. They can pay the best lawyers to keep them free and the best accountants to do their books.
Nobody can catch these big criminals.
So, the RTE will report about the little guys, but these are not Criminals.
Jean xxx
Monday 18 January 2016
Born Bad....
I hate to admit it, but I always held a small bit of sympathy for criminals. I'd look at their sad convincing faces as a Judge would read out the guilty verdict. A lot of the time, the criminal was adamant he was innocent and I would think, Was he? I was sucked in quite easily by the cries and pleas and even their blatant denial. His life was now gone as he had to be locked up for a lot of years, not to mention the devastation of the families at the hand of his abuse.
I would have probably found him not guilty so I would make a useless judge.
I would believe his pain. Surely someone that convincing of his own sorrow and innocence couldn't kill his loved one? (Example Pistoris) Had there been no evidence, he would have surely been released.
I'd have compassion for the obvious bad start in life that formed his personality.
I felt there was a bigger picture that formed these people who could hurt others.
Dysfunctional parents, alcoholism, drugs, poverty, disability and abuse were all good reasons for this person to fuck up their life. (Taking into account, lots of us came from disfunction but manage to live life honest and within the law.)
You can allocate some portion of blame to the parents when the children are dependants but as children go out into the world, what they haven't learned at home, they normally pick up very quickly from friends and co-workers. (Unacceptable behaviour)
You could also argue if there was more family intervention in the home when these criminals were children, more learning support and education, they would be less likely to follow their parents destructive behaviour when they became adults themselves.
Or another theory, is it merely the fact that some children are so spoiled and are so used to taking from others, that they have never been taught to give back? They think that everything is there for their taking....
The problem expands for these criminals when they take others with them on their road of destruction. This of course is how they inevitably get caught. It's all very well being a ticking time bomb by themselves but when they involve another, they are now jeopardizing their secret. The secret that is their horrible personality of selfishness and greed and resentment and controlling behaviour.
And suddenly they grow a fear that their secret will be exposed to all. Now they are capable of doing anything to protect that secret which is usually at a personal cost to others.
This is where they now become almost believable in their denial. They don't flinch. They become angry, sad at the crime exposed to them, "I did this, but it wasn't my fault. I didn't know she was in there. I thought it was a burglar!"
But how can we tell for sure what the truth is? He looks like he's telling the truth. He's so sure it was an accident. He almost convinces you. Almost, but not quite. Because it just doesn't make sense what he's saying. The logical Maths do not add up.
The onus of responsibility is on the police to find plenty of evidence and then match it up to the culprit. I can see how difficult that could be and of course, there are some people that are really innocent.
It must be as hard for a police man to watch some one go down for a crime that he didn't commit, but was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
So, have I turned cheeks? Am I now starting to see through these criminals lies?
That sometimes, they are just born with self pity in their bones?
And is my empathy now to the proper victims, the families?
Yes.
I do believe that forgiveness sets a person free. Holding anger will only destroy.
But now I know in my 49 years of life, that bad things happen to good people all of the time. And because the bad people only feel sorrow for themselves, they will never feel another's pain. This sets them apart from us 'normal' people, because our conscience would never allow to willingly hurt another.
And if Pistoris could stand up in court and lie to a Judge with his beautiful blue eyes filling with tears, crying, that he didn't know that the beautiful Rena was in the toilet as he ploughed the door with bullets. Shame on you Pistoris. The least you can do is accept your responsibility.
Give the family some relief. They won't forgive you, but they will respect your honesty for allowing them to be right. They know you murdered their daughter. You need to give them that affirmation.
Jean xxx
I would have probably found him not guilty so I would make a useless judge.
I would believe his pain. Surely someone that convincing of his own sorrow and innocence couldn't kill his loved one? (Example Pistoris) Had there been no evidence, he would have surely been released.
I'd have compassion for the obvious bad start in life that formed his personality.
I felt there was a bigger picture that formed these people who could hurt others.
Dysfunctional parents, alcoholism, drugs, poverty, disability and abuse were all good reasons for this person to fuck up their life. (Taking into account, lots of us came from disfunction but manage to live life honest and within the law.)
You can allocate some portion of blame to the parents when the children are dependants but as children go out into the world, what they haven't learned at home, they normally pick up very quickly from friends and co-workers. (Unacceptable behaviour)
You could also argue if there was more family intervention in the home when these criminals were children, more learning support and education, they would be less likely to follow their parents destructive behaviour when they became adults themselves.
Or another theory, is it merely the fact that some children are so spoiled and are so used to taking from others, that they have never been taught to give back? They think that everything is there for their taking....
The problem expands for these criminals when they take others with them on their road of destruction. This of course is how they inevitably get caught. It's all very well being a ticking time bomb by themselves but when they involve another, they are now jeopardizing their secret. The secret that is their horrible personality of selfishness and greed and resentment and controlling behaviour.
And suddenly they grow a fear that their secret will be exposed to all. Now they are capable of doing anything to protect that secret which is usually at a personal cost to others.
This is where they now become almost believable in their denial. They don't flinch. They become angry, sad at the crime exposed to them, "I did this, but it wasn't my fault. I didn't know she was in there. I thought it was a burglar!"
But how can we tell for sure what the truth is? He looks like he's telling the truth. He's so sure it was an accident. He almost convinces you. Almost, but not quite. Because it just doesn't make sense what he's saying. The logical Maths do not add up.
The onus of responsibility is on the police to find plenty of evidence and then match it up to the culprit. I can see how difficult that could be and of course, there are some people that are really innocent.
It must be as hard for a police man to watch some one go down for a crime that he didn't commit, but was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
So, have I turned cheeks? Am I now starting to see through these criminals lies?
That sometimes, they are just born with self pity in their bones?
And is my empathy now to the proper victims, the families?
Yes.
I do believe that forgiveness sets a person free. Holding anger will only destroy.
But now I know in my 49 years of life, that bad things happen to good people all of the time. And because the bad people only feel sorrow for themselves, they will never feel another's pain. This sets them apart from us 'normal' people, because our conscience would never allow to willingly hurt another.
And if Pistoris could stand up in court and lie to a Judge with his beautiful blue eyes filling with tears, crying, that he didn't know that the beautiful Rena was in the toilet as he ploughed the door with bullets. Shame on you Pistoris. The least you can do is accept your responsibility.
Give the family some relief. They won't forgive you, but they will respect your honesty for allowing them to be right. They know you murdered their daughter. You need to give them that affirmation.
Jean xxx
Tuesday 12 January 2016
Is someone up there winding me up?
I have a distinct feeling that someone up there beyond the mile deep clouds is having a good ole laugh at my expense. And I have no idea why!
Ok, so I was a terrible cheeky teenager to my Dad, (to which I apologised, (Oh, I'm not too sure I did apologise actually! So maybe it is him getting his own back on me!)
If you think there is nobody upstairs or afterlife or God, just have a look at your own life. Isn't it the most difficult thing you ever had to do? You may think you're isolated in this challenging life, but I'm pretty sure you're not. Everybody must have their shite. Even poor David Bowie, (And wasn't he a true legend?) His last song and video called Lazarus is very powerful.
And, if you listened to all of his songs, he was singing his truth! Good for him. At least now he is at peace. And he left us a lot of inspiring songs to help us figure him out.
So as you know, the pressures of my life were dragging me down lately. I went and walked my dogs yesterday and in the open space I feel closer to God. I asked him for help and guidance.
Or for anybody out there reading this, whoever frees your mind from doom.
Walking in the lovely cold fresh air really helps. Ok, so I wasn't Mary Poppins when I came back from my walk but I did get a few things done in my house afterwards. And I was able to cook a meal for my family. I was able to help Yasmin with her homework and I went to bed when she went to bed at 9.30.
I was up with Yasmin at 6.30 this morning and tackled my washing and ironing before I dropped her to school and came back to walk my dogs in the fields.
I walked through the muck and let my excited dogs off their leads and prayed to God to free my mind from negatives and resentments and fill my mind with positives and gratitudes. I was also praying that they wouldn't knock me over with their powerful speed. They have the power to crush my hips or leg!
My three handsome dogs were dashing about, happy to be free. As I pray, I keep an eye out for them. Storm never strays far from me. He's my four year old grey Husky that I re-homed from a young couple who worked long hours to my house where there was constant activity. He is forever loyal.
Skye, my eight year old female red Husky who is the leader of my two year old white Husky ran off and into the road. Next thing I heard was screams and squeals of pain that I knew was coming from my white guy.
I am really not good for this. I can't see people or animals lose limbs, or blood and guts from things.
I had to go and walk towards my white dog's cries of pain.
There he was, the poor fella had scrambled back into the field to his mam, (me). I knew from 50 metres that his leg was broken badly. I could also see, with my bad eyes, that there was no visual signs of blood. That was good. I could approach him. I really couldn't be dealing with missing bits of his body. (Just to let you know, who ever hit him, never stopped! I'm not sure what kind of person does that)
I was instantly upset for the egit's pain. I had no phone on me, so I had to go out into the road to flag someone for help.
Now, I didn't look good. I was in my muddy field walking clothes, (You really can't wear your good jeans walking in Ratoath. It doesn't go.) I had my favourite hat on that holds in my unruly hair. The one with the bright pink flowers that apparently does nothing for me. And there I was, frigging crying, trying to get someone to stop. No wonder the first few drove past. Anyway, an old man stopped and then a young man in a van stopped. And they both followed me into the field to help my dog.
The poor ole creature was in such pain, we couldn't pick him up. His poor ole leg was dangling so loosely, I thought it was going to fall off. I couldn't look!
In the mean time, my other two crazy dogs were jumping up and down all of us for some answers, (Is he going to be ok?) I eventually grabbed their collars and got my poor white dog to hop along behind me in so much pain, to the kind old man's car. He obligingly struggled in to the old man's car boot who brought him to the Ratoath vets. The young man got my two other Huskies into the back of his van and dropped them safely home.
Frigging dogs.
As I went to the Vet's, I was thinking if Sully were to lose a leg, maybe it would be better if he were put down, although I knew in my heart, that he would survive with only three legs and that I would let him.
Miraculously, Sully had a break that could be fixed!
I asked the vet first of all, was he out of pain and yes, the lovely vet had given him the wonder drug, Morphine! (Don't knock it. It is the only drug that takes the pain away and I didn't want to see my little guy suffer)
Sully will be in vet hospital till Friday! It'll cost me a small fortune, but will I find the money from somewhere? Of course I will!
You know, life is like a crazy carnival.
There is always something so dangerous going on.
I would never go to the RDS fun-fare for fear of my life, but I guess I don't have to.
My life is full of dangerous roller coaster rides.
Jean xxx
Ok, so I was a terrible cheeky teenager to my Dad, (to which I apologised, (Oh, I'm not too sure I did apologise actually! So maybe it is him getting his own back on me!)
If you think there is nobody upstairs or afterlife or God, just have a look at your own life. Isn't it the most difficult thing you ever had to do? You may think you're isolated in this challenging life, but I'm pretty sure you're not. Everybody must have their shite. Even poor David Bowie, (And wasn't he a true legend?) His last song and video called Lazarus is very powerful.
And, if you listened to all of his songs, he was singing his truth! Good for him. At least now he is at peace. And he left us a lot of inspiring songs to help us figure him out.
So as you know, the pressures of my life were dragging me down lately. I went and walked my dogs yesterday and in the open space I feel closer to God. I asked him for help and guidance.
Or for anybody out there reading this, whoever frees your mind from doom.
Walking in the lovely cold fresh air really helps. Ok, so I wasn't Mary Poppins when I came back from my walk but I did get a few things done in my house afterwards. And I was able to cook a meal for my family. I was able to help Yasmin with her homework and I went to bed when she went to bed at 9.30.
I was up with Yasmin at 6.30 this morning and tackled my washing and ironing before I dropped her to school and came back to walk my dogs in the fields.
I walked through the muck and let my excited dogs off their leads and prayed to God to free my mind from negatives and resentments and fill my mind with positives and gratitudes. I was also praying that they wouldn't knock me over with their powerful speed. They have the power to crush my hips or leg!
My three handsome dogs were dashing about, happy to be free. As I pray, I keep an eye out for them. Storm never strays far from me. He's my four year old grey Husky that I re-homed from a young couple who worked long hours to my house where there was constant activity. He is forever loyal.
Skye, my eight year old female red Husky who is the leader of my two year old white Husky ran off and into the road. Next thing I heard was screams and squeals of pain that I knew was coming from my white guy.
I am really not good for this. I can't see people or animals lose limbs, or blood and guts from things.
I had to go and walk towards my white dog's cries of pain.
There he was, the poor fella had scrambled back into the field to his mam, (me). I knew from 50 metres that his leg was broken badly. I could also see, with my bad eyes, that there was no visual signs of blood. That was good. I could approach him. I really couldn't be dealing with missing bits of his body. (Just to let you know, who ever hit him, never stopped! I'm not sure what kind of person does that)
I was instantly upset for the egit's pain. I had no phone on me, so I had to go out into the road to flag someone for help.
Now, I didn't look good. I was in my muddy field walking clothes, (You really can't wear your good jeans walking in Ratoath. It doesn't go.) I had my favourite hat on that holds in my unruly hair. The one with the bright pink flowers that apparently does nothing for me. And there I was, frigging crying, trying to get someone to stop. No wonder the first few drove past. Anyway, an old man stopped and then a young man in a van stopped. And they both followed me into the field to help my dog.
The poor ole creature was in such pain, we couldn't pick him up. His poor ole leg was dangling so loosely, I thought it was going to fall off. I couldn't look!
In the mean time, my other two crazy dogs were jumping up and down all of us for some answers, (Is he going to be ok?) I eventually grabbed their collars and got my poor white dog to hop along behind me in so much pain, to the kind old man's car. He obligingly struggled in to the old man's car boot who brought him to the Ratoath vets. The young man got my two other Huskies into the back of his van and dropped them safely home.
Frigging dogs.
As I went to the Vet's, I was thinking if Sully were to lose a leg, maybe it would be better if he were put down, although I knew in my heart, that he would survive with only three legs and that I would let him.
Miraculously, Sully had a break that could be fixed!
I asked the vet first of all, was he out of pain and yes, the lovely vet had given him the wonder drug, Morphine! (Don't knock it. It is the only drug that takes the pain away and I didn't want to see my little guy suffer)
Sully will be in vet hospital till Friday! It'll cost me a small fortune, but will I find the money from somewhere? Of course I will!
You know, life is like a crazy carnival.
There is always something so dangerous going on.
I would never go to the RDS fun-fare for fear of my life, but I guess I don't have to.
My life is full of dangerous roller coaster rides.
Jean xxx
Monday 11 January 2016
Just some knowledge for all you sufferers of depression and how I get through it
I am now aware why I become depressed and I am also aware of the symptoms.
I know why there are these symptoms of fatigue, listlessness, hopelessness
I know that life's challenges sometimes sends all of these symptoms into my brain at once and my weariness lets them in
I become beaten down
I am floored
I know I have to try get up and perform my duties of living
I need a strong mind and a strong sense of belief in myself in order to not be led down this road of depression. I need to continue my brain washing of positivity to get me through this
Of course, I'm still on anti depressants and I'm sure they do their job of replacing the serotonin thats missing in my brain, but they can't protect my emotions because they are intangible
No tablet, drug or alcohol can fix them
I need to be a strong mother
My offsprings are realizing themselves that life presents horrible challenges for them also
Will my knowledge help them?
Although it won't save them and that saddens me
If I had a magic wand, I would magic me some miracles, to make things easier
But I don't
So I am going to force myself to wash my face and teeth
And I am going to force myself to walk my dogs and ask God to help me
To remind me of all the things I should be grateful for, focus on those
When I come back
I will force myself to clean my house and cook a meal
And I know that slowly these feelings will move on
Jean xxx
I know why there are these symptoms of fatigue, listlessness, hopelessness
I know that life's challenges sometimes sends all of these symptoms into my brain at once and my weariness lets them in
I become beaten down
I am floored
I know I have to try get up and perform my duties of living
I need a strong mind and a strong sense of belief in myself in order to not be led down this road of depression. I need to continue my brain washing of positivity to get me through this
Of course, I'm still on anti depressants and I'm sure they do their job of replacing the serotonin thats missing in my brain, but they can't protect my emotions because they are intangible
No tablet, drug or alcohol can fix them
I need to be a strong mother
My offsprings are realizing themselves that life presents horrible challenges for them also
Will my knowledge help them?
Although it won't save them and that saddens me
If I had a magic wand, I would magic me some miracles, to make things easier
But I don't
So I am going to force myself to wash my face and teeth
And I am going to force myself to walk my dogs and ask God to help me
To remind me of all the things I should be grateful for, focus on those
When I come back
I will force myself to clean my house and cook a meal
And I know that slowly these feelings will move on
Jean xxx
Wednesday 6 January 2016
The importance of a Mother's Stew...
What ingredients are in that pot of Stew that only your Mother can make?
Filled with wisdom
As she chops her vegetables and potatoes so carefully, just the way you like it
Tenderly adding in only the best bits of meat, then stock
Cooking it to perfection, slowly bringing it to the boil
Then leaving it to simmer
To feed her child, to keep her warm and help her grow
To nourish her mind and her body
To taste the delights of the sweet vegetables and the bitterness of others
Prepared to go off safely into the World
Because the stew is your Mother's love
The amazing gift that is to be a Mother
And the amazing gift that she has inside her to love you un-conditionly
As you age
And when you return sad and hurt
The bowl of Stew is instantly served....
Your baby receives their first bowl of Stew at their three month birthday
They eat ravenously
The years go by and your children are well used to your Mother's Stew
They giggle at her old fashioned food
But they grow up with their Grand Mother's pot of love
With all of the ingredients for a healthy life
Kindness, compassion, trust, morals, loyalty, respect and responsibility.....
Time passes and your Mother serves her last pot of Stew
You relish every drop
You will miss the wise old woman who brought her family to the table every week
with her cherished dish
She looks around at her brood, proud that she has walked in God's footsteps.....
As she taught each daughter how to make their own precious pot of Stew
Full of love, full of support, full of generosity
To keep her family healthy and safe....
What happens to the child who doesn't receive that bowl of Stew?
Who has never felt the warmth and security from the wonderful blend?
How will she grow Good?
How will she banish Evil?
Jean xxx
Filled with wisdom
As she chops her vegetables and potatoes so carefully, just the way you like it
Tenderly adding in only the best bits of meat, then stock
Cooking it to perfection, slowly bringing it to the boil
Then leaving it to simmer
To feed her child, to keep her warm and help her grow
To nourish her mind and her body
To taste the delights of the sweet vegetables and the bitterness of others
Prepared to go off safely into the World
Because the stew is your Mother's love
The amazing gift that is to be a Mother
And the amazing gift that she has inside her to love you un-conditionly
As you age
And when you return sad and hurt
The bowl of Stew is instantly served....
Your baby receives their first bowl of Stew at their three month birthday
They eat ravenously
The years go by and your children are well used to your Mother's Stew
They giggle at her old fashioned food
But they grow up with their Grand Mother's pot of love
With all of the ingredients for a healthy life
Kindness, compassion, trust, morals, loyalty, respect and responsibility.....
Time passes and your Mother serves her last pot of Stew
You relish every drop
You will miss the wise old woman who brought her family to the table every week
with her cherished dish
She looks around at her brood, proud that she has walked in God's footsteps.....
As she taught each daughter how to make their own precious pot of Stew
Full of love, full of support, full of generosity
To keep her family healthy and safe....
What happens to the child who doesn't receive that bowl of Stew?
Who has never felt the warmth and security from the wonderful blend?
How will she grow Good?
How will she banish Evil?
Jean xxx
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