As a mother for 26 years now, I've been visiting Santa Claus for quite some time. Myself and my sisters, husbands and kids favor the Arnott's Santa in Dublin city centre. It has become quite a tradition with my family and every December, we head off really early on a Saturday morning to try get ahead of the very long queue to see the precious fella.
Mostly all of our children come with us. The youngest is ten and the oldest is 26, (Ok, he doesn't come, yet. Soon to be married, soon to be a parent! He'll be back!)
We merrily chat to all of the other parents while waiting the many hours, enquiring how long they have been coming to the 'Real' Santa. Everybody regales their tails of when they found him and why he is so special. I look around at all of the families of all ages. They come from all parts of the country and it's quite amazing to see the mix. There are posh people, common people, poor people, rich people, foreign people, educated people, all talking to each other, admiring each other's children, sharing seats and cups of coffee. Despite what goes on outside Arnott's doors or where ever else all of our shared problems lay, we are all in the Christmas Spirit.
Arnott's is an old but refurbished department store, so it has a state of the art luxury and modern design. The Christmas design this year was full of sparkling delights. There were Santa sacks and sleigh bells; There were lego reindeer! Brilliant! And a great idea, 'Take an Elfy of yourself!' There was a huge relaxing area where families could chill and watch some Christmas movies and the wonderful staff were as wonderful as ever!
The only snag was that the new air conditioning system was on heat instead of chill and by the time it was our turn to see Santa, we had discarded all of our Christmas jumpers and drank half a dozen bottles of water. It was like Christmas in the Bahamas during a heat wave!
We gave a huge cheer as we finally headed in behind the deep velvet curtains to see the delightful Father Christmas sitting in his comfy armchair beside his fireplace. 'Hello Santa!' We all chimed. Looking at this genuine old man with a real beard and his own bit of belly fat, dressed handsomely in red. He smiled widely at us all. 'Tell me all about yourself now,' he asked each of us in turn. 'What are you looking for this Christmas?' He took his time and showed an interest in all of my teenage nieces and nephews and they in turn showed great respect for this dear old man. And what were they looking for from this kind old man? They of course know that this Santa will not deliver their iphones or laptops, or designer clothes. So, why were they here?
They came to get the magic that Santa gives. The magic of Christmas Sprit. Of sharing and caring.
And giving of oneself. Because for this one day of the year, we all can.
Santa Claus may be a figure of mystery and fantasy for little children, but as we grow older, Santa Claus stands for giving. Being in the Christmas Spirit and sharing your time and yourself with family and friends and anybody that may need you, is what Christmas is all about.
And that's where the magic is.
Merry Christmas xxx
Jean xxx
Wednesday 23 December 2015
Friday 18 December 2015
This is my Christmas letter to you all!
Have yourself a Merry little Christmas....
It's that time of year again, already? Haven't we just taken down last years decorations?
Wow! Where did that year go? I know they say when you get older that the years go in faster, but, I wasn't ready. This is my worse year for organisation. How does this happen? I remember when I was young, (younger) when I had all the cards sent, the house spotless and everything in. What date is it now? The 18th? Ok, so I still have a few more days left to do all that stuff and I've just had a great thought! I'll write you all a letter! (Just incase you don't receive your card)
How was your year?
Are you all grateful you just got through it? I can't lie. I am so grateful to be alive, truly, I am, but isn't life a challenge? Especially these last few years that have been financially challenging. It can seem to be a trudging chore at times and I'm also really aware of family and friends and strangers who have died recently, before their time.
There are so many. And they were all lovely people. Kindhearted people. You don't have to wonder too much why God would take these people. He wants them! They are good and genuine. They don't need to serve a life of learning because they are educated in kindness already. So they are happy in Heaven. And we're glad for them and we miss them, but we don't forget them. I have my Dad's photo on my dressing table and I see him always. He is here with us and I feel his presence. I would much prefer if he was here and I could ask him to do a chore for me, maybe something in the garden or the house and with his unqualified skills he would gladly tackle it for his daughter, because there is nobody like a daughter to a Dad! But I am really happy that he is at peace and I wouldn't be selfish enough to make him come back to this crazy planet! But nine years on and I still miss him. He loved Christmas and he loved to party! I think I'm a bit like him that way.
It's hard for the people who have lost beloved ones and I feel their pain. I can't help them. They have to live with this loss for the rest of their days. And the loss of these people is so heartfelt to us all. I know that they are all in Heaven and they are happy and at peace, but they will be missed.
I still remember my best pal Declan, wow, almost 30 years later since he died! He was such a lovely lad. You see! Another good one gone. And I will always remember his kindness. As I remember all of my other family and friends who have passed. I take pleasure in remembering their kindnesses. It is a wonderful gift to be a kind person. Someone who is thoughtful and considerate of others. You might be a small person in the universe, but you are huge in your presence. Imagine having the wonderful gift of helping others, loving others and including everyone as equal? Of course, we are all equal. It doesn't matter about our colour or creed or wealth or looks or 'coolness' status, we are all equal.
Isn't it funny that you never remember anyone who's mean? I have had people mean to me in my lifetime, but I don't remember them. They don't leave their mark. They are forgotten.
So my wish to all of you this Christmas, and I hope to see you all, (I'll do my best to visit over our festive season) is to enjoy this wonderful life! Please take everything as a roller-coaster challenge, not a decisive of your life. Enjoy breathing, walking, listening, seeing!
Be Grateful for this one and only life that you have a chance of living!
And be kind to people.
The people who laugh loudest are always the ones who are sad inside.
Merry Christmas
Jean xx
It's that time of year again, already? Haven't we just taken down last years decorations?
Wow! Where did that year go? I know they say when you get older that the years go in faster, but, I wasn't ready. This is my worse year for organisation. How does this happen? I remember when I was young, (younger) when I had all the cards sent, the house spotless and everything in. What date is it now? The 18th? Ok, so I still have a few more days left to do all that stuff and I've just had a great thought! I'll write you all a letter! (Just incase you don't receive your card)
How was your year?
Are you all grateful you just got through it? I can't lie. I am so grateful to be alive, truly, I am, but isn't life a challenge? Especially these last few years that have been financially challenging. It can seem to be a trudging chore at times and I'm also really aware of family and friends and strangers who have died recently, before their time.
There are so many. And they were all lovely people. Kindhearted people. You don't have to wonder too much why God would take these people. He wants them! They are good and genuine. They don't need to serve a life of learning because they are educated in kindness already. So they are happy in Heaven. And we're glad for them and we miss them, but we don't forget them. I have my Dad's photo on my dressing table and I see him always. He is here with us and I feel his presence. I would much prefer if he was here and I could ask him to do a chore for me, maybe something in the garden or the house and with his unqualified skills he would gladly tackle it for his daughter, because there is nobody like a daughter to a Dad! But I am really happy that he is at peace and I wouldn't be selfish enough to make him come back to this crazy planet! But nine years on and I still miss him. He loved Christmas and he loved to party! I think I'm a bit like him that way.
It's hard for the people who have lost beloved ones and I feel their pain. I can't help them. They have to live with this loss for the rest of their days. And the loss of these people is so heartfelt to us all. I know that they are all in Heaven and they are happy and at peace, but they will be missed.
I still remember my best pal Declan, wow, almost 30 years later since he died! He was such a lovely lad. You see! Another good one gone. And I will always remember his kindness. As I remember all of my other family and friends who have passed. I take pleasure in remembering their kindnesses. It is a wonderful gift to be a kind person. Someone who is thoughtful and considerate of others. You might be a small person in the universe, but you are huge in your presence. Imagine having the wonderful gift of helping others, loving others and including everyone as equal? Of course, we are all equal. It doesn't matter about our colour or creed or wealth or looks or 'coolness' status, we are all equal.
Isn't it funny that you never remember anyone who's mean? I have had people mean to me in my lifetime, but I don't remember them. They don't leave their mark. They are forgotten.
So my wish to all of you this Christmas, and I hope to see you all, (I'll do my best to visit over our festive season) is to enjoy this wonderful life! Please take everything as a roller-coaster challenge, not a decisive of your life. Enjoy breathing, walking, listening, seeing!
Be Grateful for this one and only life that you have a chance of living!
And be kind to people.
The people who laugh loudest are always the ones who are sad inside.
Merry Christmas
Jean xx
Saturday 28 November 2015
I need to explain
I spoke about my days growing up in Cabra in 'My Beautiful Flower'.
My girl friends, our back-rounds, our poorness. But how can I explain our unity....
You may look down your nose at dysfunction, but don't knock it. Dysfunction is a wonderful gift.
Dysfunction being, limited education, poverty, alcohol abuse, struggling parents.
We had a class reunion tonight from 40 years ago
And I recognized so many
All smiles and praise
No complaints
That's the thing
No complaint's
Support, encouragement,
Smiles,
reassuring hugs and touch.
Delighted to see you looking so well.
Happy for you.
Why?
Because it's just great to see you. They remember your contribution to them surviving school or parents or growing up years. Because you made it fun. Like they made it fun for you. Less scary.
And here you are.
You live to tell the tail.
Of truth.
Of life.
But it's ok.
Because they are here with you.
And they are still smiling!
That's what friends are....
Jean. xxx
My girl friends, our back-rounds, our poorness. But how can I explain our unity....
You may look down your nose at dysfunction, but don't knock it. Dysfunction is a wonderful gift.
Dysfunction being, limited education, poverty, alcohol abuse, struggling parents.
We had a class reunion tonight from 40 years ago
And I recognized so many
All smiles and praise
No complaints
That's the thing
No complaint's
Support, encouragement,
Smiles,
reassuring hugs and touch.
Delighted to see you looking so well.
Happy for you.
Why?
Because it's just great to see you. They remember your contribution to them surviving school or parents or growing up years. Because you made it fun. Like they made it fun for you. Less scary.
And here you are.
You live to tell the tail.
Of truth.
Of life.
But it's ok.
Because they are here with you.
And they are still smiling!
That's what friends are....
Jean. xxx
Tuesday 24 November 2015
Lost...
I feel like Tom Hanks in one of his great acting rolls in Castaway when his companion, best mate, only friend in the world falls into the sea and Tom never sees him again.
That's the way I feel inside,
Lost.
No strength.
Detached from society.
As if I am going to collapse, but it's a mental collapse and then it's physical also. But I can't allow myself the pleasure of a collapse. I can see the benefits of being in a delusional state.
Of not feeling the pain of failure.
I'm drained emotionally. I have no energy nor interest to look nice .
I'm not meeting my family's needs.
I'm wreaked in guilt for my emotional failures in life.
My precious eleven year old struggles to go to school every morning, everything hurts her, her hair, her teeth washing, her face washing, her toe this morning, I know school is hard for her even though she says it's not.
I can't take her pain away from her.
She's angry with herself. How can I teach her to accept herself?
She's such a great girl, she really tries hard.
Yet I am so grateful for the school system this morning, because I can have six hours break from her Dyspraxia and everything that goes with it for my little pet. You know, Yasmin was born with this disability, it's mild enough you might say because you can't see it's physical form, but every day she grows older, her disability doesn't. It's still a tantrumous, anxious, hyper active, struggling, clumsy, scared, angry, disorganized three year old.
It's still the same challenge for her every day. Every day she has to work very very hard to learn things that some take for granted.
My heart goes out to the many parents who have a lot more disabilities in their children and they are aging but their children are not.
I'm only 48 and I'm tired.
Jean xxx
That's the way I feel inside,
Lost.
No strength.
Detached from society.
As if I am going to collapse, but it's a mental collapse and then it's physical also. But I can't allow myself the pleasure of a collapse. I can see the benefits of being in a delusional state.
Of not feeling the pain of failure.
I'm drained emotionally. I have no energy nor interest to look nice .
I'm not meeting my family's needs.
I'm wreaked in guilt for my emotional failures in life.
My precious eleven year old struggles to go to school every morning, everything hurts her, her hair, her teeth washing, her face washing, her toe this morning, I know school is hard for her even though she says it's not.
I can't take her pain away from her.
She's angry with herself. How can I teach her to accept herself?
She's such a great girl, she really tries hard.
Yet I am so grateful for the school system this morning, because I can have six hours break from her Dyspraxia and everything that goes with it for my little pet. You know, Yasmin was born with this disability, it's mild enough you might say because you can't see it's physical form, but every day she grows older, her disability doesn't. It's still a tantrumous, anxious, hyper active, struggling, clumsy, scared, angry, disorganized three year old.
It's still the same challenge for her every day. Every day she has to work very very hard to learn things that some take for granted.
My heart goes out to the many parents who have a lot more disabilities in their children and they are aging but their children are not.
I'm only 48 and I'm tired.
Jean xxx
Friday 20 November 2015
The Responsibilities of being a Woman
I'm sure I'm not the only woman sitting down this morning the 20th November 2015, with weariness in my bones.
Wondering how to be all to the husband and the children, how to meet all their needs. How to provide a Happy, worry free Home. To be a Mother to the kids, a Teacher, a Nurse, a Psychiatrist, a Psychologist, a Special Needs assistant, a Nutritionist, a Hairdresser and Beautician (Ok, so I have those skills at least!) A Wife to the husband, a sex goddess, (I kid you not!) a Business Manager to the home, to keep the bills paid and the washing and ironing done. To put food in the fridge. While presenting a lovely clean home for the return of the family after their wonderful easy day in school, college or indeed the luxury of working outside the home.
Never mind the addition of taking care of the adored dogs and pony!
And as with every job, I know, there are times when there is an employee review.
'We think that you could be doing better. We're not getting very good returns from your work.'
You feel a failure again. Can't you do anything right?
How can you do better? You've got limited means. Limited time. You've a limited body. You would need to be cloned. It's a task itself figuring out the individual needs of your children. And the more kids you have, the ratio of getting it wrong increases.
In my parents day, it was easier. They just had kids, they fed them and sent them to school. Thank God they didn't have to figure out any emotional needs. We were spared of any emotional intervention. We weren't to show any emotion. Apart from being happy. We could laugh things off. But that's not as bad as you think. At least for most of us, we were in this happy little bubble of denial for most of our youth. That's a great gift in itself!
So you come out of your review. The house is quite. Everybody is gone. You look around at the mess they left behind and you wonder where to start. Again.
The groundhog feeling of everyday being the same.
What wonder can you get out of this day? In the back round of my mind, I hear my good angel telling me, 'Look at your kids! See their smiling happy faces going off to their day. They're safe, healthy, nourished and warm!'
The little devil in my mind is very small. I can't hear his voice much. It's very faint. I know he's trying to laugh and jeer and blame and criticize, but I'm not listening.
So, I'm ok. I'll work harder. I'm a woman.
I'm the gel that keeps the family together. Like my Mother before me and her Mother, my Granny. A small woman with a huge mind, full of giving.
Don't underestimate our task of being a woman. God shared his great gift of creating with us women. He gave us the gift of giving birth. Yes, we know the excruciating pain of bringing a child into the world and the same pain when we lose one. But he gave us strength.
And we have this gift of great love and loyalty to our born.
We'll not give up.
Jean xx
Wondering how to be all to the husband and the children, how to meet all their needs. How to provide a Happy, worry free Home. To be a Mother to the kids, a Teacher, a Nurse, a Psychiatrist, a Psychologist, a Special Needs assistant, a Nutritionist, a Hairdresser and Beautician (Ok, so I have those skills at least!) A Wife to the husband, a sex goddess, (I kid you not!) a Business Manager to the home, to keep the bills paid and the washing and ironing done. To put food in the fridge. While presenting a lovely clean home for the return of the family after their wonderful easy day in school, college or indeed the luxury of working outside the home.
Never mind the addition of taking care of the adored dogs and pony!
And as with every job, I know, there are times when there is an employee review.
'We think that you could be doing better. We're not getting very good returns from your work.'
You feel a failure again. Can't you do anything right?
How can you do better? You've got limited means. Limited time. You've a limited body. You would need to be cloned. It's a task itself figuring out the individual needs of your children. And the more kids you have, the ratio of getting it wrong increases.
In my parents day, it was easier. They just had kids, they fed them and sent them to school. Thank God they didn't have to figure out any emotional needs. We were spared of any emotional intervention. We weren't to show any emotion. Apart from being happy. We could laugh things off. But that's not as bad as you think. At least for most of us, we were in this happy little bubble of denial for most of our youth. That's a great gift in itself!
So you come out of your review. The house is quite. Everybody is gone. You look around at the mess they left behind and you wonder where to start. Again.
The groundhog feeling of everyday being the same.
What wonder can you get out of this day? In the back round of my mind, I hear my good angel telling me, 'Look at your kids! See their smiling happy faces going off to their day. They're safe, healthy, nourished and warm!'
The little devil in my mind is very small. I can't hear his voice much. It's very faint. I know he's trying to laugh and jeer and blame and criticize, but I'm not listening.
So, I'm ok. I'll work harder. I'm a woman.
I'm the gel that keeps the family together. Like my Mother before me and her Mother, my Granny. A small woman with a huge mind, full of giving.
Don't underestimate our task of being a woman. God shared his great gift of creating with us women. He gave us the gift of giving birth. Yes, we know the excruciating pain of bringing a child into the world and the same pain when we lose one. But he gave us strength.
And we have this gift of great love and loyalty to our born.
We'll not give up.
Jean xx
Tuesday 17 November 2015
Hi! I'm looking for some talented people out there to take part in my art competition, check out my website for the details http://jeanmurray120.wordpress.com spread the word!
Hi! I'm looking for some talented people out there to take part in my art competition, check out my website for the details http://jeanmurray120.wordpress.com spread the word!
Since I'm not having too much interest here in Ireland, I'm putting it out there!
And open to all ages!
Jean xx
Since I'm not having too much interest here in Ireland, I'm putting it out there!
And open to all ages!
Jean xx
Friday 13 November 2015
'Who's that ole fella you had me sit on his lap for the last few years??'
I laughed this morning when my sister in law told me of an eight year old child in her daughter's school, who was going around telling the other kids that Santa wasn't real!
There's always one! You know the type? They're smarter than the average airy fairy kid who is happy in the knowledge that the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Jack Frost and indeed Santa are all very real. These little innocents don't have the desire to discover anything. They are just so happy to place every little extravagant want on their list, knowing their beloved wishes will come true!
But the Smarty Pants wants to know why Santa didn't bring him his much desired, latest Super Duper, really expensive to buy X Box next generation?
He wants to get to the bottom of all these unasked for useless presents appearing every year under the Christmas Tree. There has to be a more logical explanation?
So the Smarty Pants puts on his detective ears and watch's his parents every move and every whisper until he finally discovers the secret stash of presents! He knew it! Mammy and Daddy are Santa! The Frauds. No wonder they kept saying Santa can't afford really expensive items!!
Now, delighted and also miserable in this new knowledge, he can't wait to tell all these idiot kids who still believe, that there is no such thing as Santa!
Two of the mammies at the school were outraged, as only us Irish mammies can be. So, they called an emergency meeting with the principle to have this child shut up! (Irish mammies have this power)
This secret could not get out! It would break all of the children's hearts!
And I know for sure if my 11 year old Yasmin found out now, she would be heart broken. Yasmin is only in 4th class now, so all of her classmates at 9 are still happy believers and because of her delayed maturity, she's really only 7 in her head. So, I am certainly not rushing in to break her little heart.
So when is a good time to tell your kids that Santa isn't real? And was it really fair to dis-allusion them for so long?
As my neighbor told me recently, when she told her twelve year old daughter that Santa wasn't real, her daughter was shocked! She had no idea he wasn't real. She asked her mom then, 'So who was that ole fella you brought me to every year and had me sitting on his lap??'
You know it's true. We give them this magic and fantasy for the first few years of their life and as soon as the awful puberty approaches, and they are mourning the loss of their childhood body, they have to deal with this tragic loss also! 'Santa's not real?'
I do think it's nice to have the magic and fantasy in kids life, but should we take it away completely?
Christmas does indeed come around very fast for us parents who are still struggling with the effects of the recession. And I can speak from experience, the stress of trying to meet the kids wants are tough.
I know many of us are cursing Santa's imminent arrival and welcome the little Smarty pants going around breaking our kids hearts for us.
But we don't have to turn into Bah Humbug himself, (I keep telling my husband)
And I don't want to come across too corny, but it can still be a time of magic. It is a time of gatherings and get togethers, so, we can look forward to those moments. We don't have to buy everybody presents, as it's the company that matters. (And a glass of vino)
When it's time for the kids to know about Santa, they will ask you first and then they are ready for the truth. And you can tell them, that Christmas is still a magical time. It's about new beginnings and family and friends and being loving and caring and sharing. We keep Santa around because it reminds us to be nicer. To share ourselves and our wealth with people we care about and who need it.
Jean xx
There's always one! You know the type? They're smarter than the average airy fairy kid who is happy in the knowledge that the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, Jack Frost and indeed Santa are all very real. These little innocents don't have the desire to discover anything. They are just so happy to place every little extravagant want on their list, knowing their beloved wishes will come true!
But the Smarty Pants wants to know why Santa didn't bring him his much desired, latest Super Duper, really expensive to buy X Box next generation?
He wants to get to the bottom of all these unasked for useless presents appearing every year under the Christmas Tree. There has to be a more logical explanation?
So the Smarty Pants puts on his detective ears and watch's his parents every move and every whisper until he finally discovers the secret stash of presents! He knew it! Mammy and Daddy are Santa! The Frauds. No wonder they kept saying Santa can't afford really expensive items!!
Now, delighted and also miserable in this new knowledge, he can't wait to tell all these idiot kids who still believe, that there is no such thing as Santa!
Two of the mammies at the school were outraged, as only us Irish mammies can be. So, they called an emergency meeting with the principle to have this child shut up! (Irish mammies have this power)
This secret could not get out! It would break all of the children's hearts!
And I know for sure if my 11 year old Yasmin found out now, she would be heart broken. Yasmin is only in 4th class now, so all of her classmates at 9 are still happy believers and because of her delayed maturity, she's really only 7 in her head. So, I am certainly not rushing in to break her little heart.
So when is a good time to tell your kids that Santa isn't real? And was it really fair to dis-allusion them for so long?
As my neighbor told me recently, when she told her twelve year old daughter that Santa wasn't real, her daughter was shocked! She had no idea he wasn't real. She asked her mom then, 'So who was that ole fella you brought me to every year and had me sitting on his lap??'
You know it's true. We give them this magic and fantasy for the first few years of their life and as soon as the awful puberty approaches, and they are mourning the loss of their childhood body, they have to deal with this tragic loss also! 'Santa's not real?'
I do think it's nice to have the magic and fantasy in kids life, but should we take it away completely?
Christmas does indeed come around very fast for us parents who are still struggling with the effects of the recession. And I can speak from experience, the stress of trying to meet the kids wants are tough.
I know many of us are cursing Santa's imminent arrival and welcome the little Smarty pants going around breaking our kids hearts for us.
But we don't have to turn into Bah Humbug himself, (I keep telling my husband)
And I don't want to come across too corny, but it can still be a time of magic. It is a time of gatherings and get togethers, so, we can look forward to those moments. We don't have to buy everybody presents, as it's the company that matters. (And a glass of vino)
When it's time for the kids to know about Santa, they will ask you first and then they are ready for the truth. And you can tell them, that Christmas is still a magical time. It's about new beginnings and family and friends and being loving and caring and sharing. We keep Santa around because it reminds us to be nicer. To share ourselves and our wealth with people we care about and who need it.
Jean xx
Saturday 7 November 2015
So, I have a very Worthy cause.....
I launched my very first children's story book today called 'Madhead The Crazy Horse'!
I was very proud of this story, because it contained real life elements of my life with my children and my family and friends and our animals.
Animals who are not so easy to tame. Who need kindness and a firm and reassuring voice.
Animals who are always there for us, waiting to receive that reassuring pat or hug and waiting to reassure us with a nudge of their nose or a wag of their tail. They can teach us so much!
I hosted the launch in Broadmeadows Stables, where my children and their friends spend their days tending their beautiful horses.
They care for these animals with such skill, who give them so much comfort and confidence.
They learn to be strong.
In relation to my book, I linked my charity of choice, a wonderful cause, to The Dyspraxia Assoc. of Ireland. I wanted to spread awareness to this unknown Disability. That in our days, the children were called 'Slow'. They just couldn't keep up with the 'normal' kids. They were hard to teach and often put down to the back of the class.
On the discovery that my last child had quite a severe Dyspraxia, I was quite devastated. And shocked. And worried. Like any other loving parent.
With the help and support of other parents to encourage and comfort me and also the resources to physically help me and my child, I soon learned that we would be OK. That my child could perform in life.
Over whelmed with pride and joy, I wanted to share this news with everybody in Ireland. I wanted to shout out, 'Hey! This is a wonderful, kind World we live in! Look what we can do to help! We can educate all of our children with individual needs! They have the ability to be educated! And we also have that ability to educate!'
And today, my beautiful friends and family came to support me and my quest. And they had their own sadness and illness and difficulties to face. Yet, they came to me.
To unite in our quest of humanity. To genuinely support. To comfort our pain, not our beauty.
To love our joy through their sadness.
Through their loss.
What wonderful people.
Real people.
With warmth.
I am humbled at such loyalty.
Jean xx
I was very proud of this story, because it contained real life elements of my life with my children and my family and friends and our animals.
Animals who are not so easy to tame. Who need kindness and a firm and reassuring voice.
Animals who are always there for us, waiting to receive that reassuring pat or hug and waiting to reassure us with a nudge of their nose or a wag of their tail. They can teach us so much!
I hosted the launch in Broadmeadows Stables, where my children and their friends spend their days tending their beautiful horses.
They care for these animals with such skill, who give them so much comfort and confidence.
They learn to be strong.
In relation to my book, I linked my charity of choice, a wonderful cause, to The Dyspraxia Assoc. of Ireland. I wanted to spread awareness to this unknown Disability. That in our days, the children were called 'Slow'. They just couldn't keep up with the 'normal' kids. They were hard to teach and often put down to the back of the class.
On the discovery that my last child had quite a severe Dyspraxia, I was quite devastated. And shocked. And worried. Like any other loving parent.
With the help and support of other parents to encourage and comfort me and also the resources to physically help me and my child, I soon learned that we would be OK. That my child could perform in life.
Over whelmed with pride and joy, I wanted to share this news with everybody in Ireland. I wanted to shout out, 'Hey! This is a wonderful, kind World we live in! Look what we can do to help! We can educate all of our children with individual needs! They have the ability to be educated! And we also have that ability to educate!'
The wonderful person from The Dyspraxia Assoc. who came to support me today, shared with me the difficulties for parents who struggle to pay the high costs to have their child assessed. Many parents borrow money to give their child a proper diagnosis in order to receive proper resource in school.
We raised 700 euros for The Dyspraxia Assoc. today from the sale of my books and I am so proud to say that the raised money will go directly to a child's assessment, and maybe even another child. And I am also proud to say that a proportion of all my future earnings from my books will always go to the Dyspraxia Assoc. Because I will gladly contribute to a child's educational and emotional needs.
There are wonderful people like Shea from Ireland's Own and even Woman's Own who have helped promote this positivity and I am very grateful.
And today, my beautiful friends and family came to support me and my quest. And they had their own sadness and illness and difficulties to face. Yet, they came to me.
To unite in our quest of humanity. To genuinely support. To comfort our pain, not our beauty.
To love our joy through their sadness.
Through their loss.
What wonderful people.
Real people.
With warmth.
I am humbled at such loyalty.
Jean xx
Monday 2 November 2015
Is there anybody out there?
I don't like to complain, but if I did, it might go something like this......
A couple of months before my first book, 'My Beautiful Flower' was released on amazon on the 1st March this year, I saw a successful author talk about his writing career to Mark Cagney on Ireland Am. He spoke about the difficulties he had in getting his first book published, that it's a lot of work as there are many talented writers out there and it's very hard to get noticed. Indeed, one of the things that delayed my start in writing was, how could I write and deliver as good as the books that I had read in my lifetime?
Nevertheless, I took his words on board. I was prepared to work hard. I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I was a nobody. And I knew nobody.
Austin Macauley are one of the many publishing agents out there who will help you edit and publish your work for you for a fee. They then release it on to amazon UK and USA and in fairness to the marketing team, they tell you, 'It's down to you, how successful your book will become, as you have to do all of your own self promoting.'
So, with my limited technical skills, I signed up to Twitter, Goodreads and many more social media sites and I began my rant about my book. I joined Amazon author central and you get to see what number you are in the top 100,000, which is a nice little tool. When I saw my book go low in the ratings, I found out I could buy twitter boosts to promote my book at a not too costly 20 euros a month.
I also emailed my book to all the radio and tv presenters in Ireland trying to get some airtime or media coverage, but nobody emailed back.
In the meantime, I have been writing my blogs (as I am now) and other books. And excitedly, have 'Madhead The Crazy Horse!' Released again through Austin Macauley on 30th October this year. Much more confident about this little creation, I started it's promotion early in September. I emailed and twittered with gusto! And emailed again. And sent copies of the beautiful story to every tv, radio and magazine in Dublin.
Do you know, we have loads of Irish magazines? Loads of Irish TV talk shows? And loads of Irish radio presenters? Well we do. As I wrote to them all. And I thought that maybe they'd be all sick of doing the same thing, having celebrity's cooking, having celebrity's fashion and makeup and weddings and authors and the list goes on. That they would like a bit of ordinary fresh air from a nobody, but who has lots of important things to say too that are funny and interesting. That involving family and friends in her occasions in life is much more rewarding.
But apparently not. I guess they think us poor Irish nobody's keep wanting to see the successful and the beautiful and the rich all of the time.
So, not disheartened. I began to phone all the radio, tv shows and magazines and soon the proverbial penny began to drop. 'Oh Hi! Yes, just email that in again and the producer will make a decision if you get to talk to the presenter.' And then you never hear anything else from them.
Gerry Ryan would never agree to that! God rest him. He talked to all of us ordinary folk on air!
At this point, you may think your work is really shite..... And then you just ring the radio sales department. Just to see how much it would cost to promote your work on the radio. And you realise, that this is probably the route you have to go. It's already cost you a small fortune thus far.
Thankfully, it's too much money and I can't afford it, so I don't pay to advertise my book.
I force myself back into positivity. At least I got some nice feedback from the book shops around the country who may put my book on their shelf.
And even though my poor child couldn't get herself back to sleep at 4.30 this morning, it least I got to write my blog!
Jean xxx
A couple of months before my first book, 'My Beautiful Flower' was released on amazon on the 1st March this year, I saw a successful author talk about his writing career to Mark Cagney on Ireland Am. He spoke about the difficulties he had in getting his first book published, that it's a lot of work as there are many talented writers out there and it's very hard to get noticed. Indeed, one of the things that delayed my start in writing was, how could I write and deliver as good as the books that I had read in my lifetime?
Nevertheless, I took his words on board. I was prepared to work hard. I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I was a nobody. And I knew nobody.
Austin Macauley are one of the many publishing agents out there who will help you edit and publish your work for you for a fee. They then release it on to amazon UK and USA and in fairness to the marketing team, they tell you, 'It's down to you, how successful your book will become, as you have to do all of your own self promoting.'
So, with my limited technical skills, I signed up to Twitter, Goodreads and many more social media sites and I began my rant about my book. I joined Amazon author central and you get to see what number you are in the top 100,000, which is a nice little tool. When I saw my book go low in the ratings, I found out I could buy twitter boosts to promote my book at a not too costly 20 euros a month.
I also emailed my book to all the radio and tv presenters in Ireland trying to get some airtime or media coverage, but nobody emailed back.
In the meantime, I have been writing my blogs (as I am now) and other books. And excitedly, have 'Madhead The Crazy Horse!' Released again through Austin Macauley on 30th October this year. Much more confident about this little creation, I started it's promotion early in September. I emailed and twittered with gusto! And emailed again. And sent copies of the beautiful story to every tv, radio and magazine in Dublin.
Do you know, we have loads of Irish magazines? Loads of Irish TV talk shows? And loads of Irish radio presenters? Well we do. As I wrote to them all. And I thought that maybe they'd be all sick of doing the same thing, having celebrity's cooking, having celebrity's fashion and makeup and weddings and authors and the list goes on. That they would like a bit of ordinary fresh air from a nobody, but who has lots of important things to say too that are funny and interesting. That involving family and friends in her occasions in life is much more rewarding.
But apparently not. I guess they think us poor Irish nobody's keep wanting to see the successful and the beautiful and the rich all of the time.
So, not disheartened. I began to phone all the radio, tv shows and magazines and soon the proverbial penny began to drop. 'Oh Hi! Yes, just email that in again and the producer will make a decision if you get to talk to the presenter.' And then you never hear anything else from them.
Gerry Ryan would never agree to that! God rest him. He talked to all of us ordinary folk on air!
At this point, you may think your work is really shite..... And then you just ring the radio sales department. Just to see how much it would cost to promote your work on the radio. And you realise, that this is probably the route you have to go. It's already cost you a small fortune thus far.
Thankfully, it's too much money and I can't afford it, so I don't pay to advertise my book.
I force myself back into positivity. At least I got some nice feedback from the book shops around the country who may put my book on their shelf.
And even though my poor child couldn't get herself back to sleep at 4.30 this morning, it least I got to write my blog!
Jean xxx
Friday 23 October 2015
Children.. not for the lazy
When you first hear the news that your child will be mentally slower than their peers, your first thought is for them. Their future. Will they perform independently as an adult? How will they cope if you died while they are still children? What will be for them?
As a Parent, your last thought is for yourself. It's the greatest gift of being a parent with a child who has more needs than others. You immediately become selfless. All thoughts of how you will get through these years goes out the window and is replaced with a force from within to help your child.
Being gifted with a child with needs is a blessing. You learn so much as I'm sure all of you out there would agree, you learn to be strong. You develop this amazing patience, love, acceptance, consistency and the ability to function with little sleep.
My last child has Dyspraxia, which in her means, immaturity for her age. As her 11 year old body is growing into puberty, she is a happy six year old, horrified at the thoughts of growing up changes happening to her body and not ready to hear it!
She has lots of conditions inside that diagnosis, but one of them is ADHD. She is impulsive, excitable and hyper active. (She could have been badly behaved, but thankfully, I got some very good help with behavior when she was four and it worked really well. It's really simple, it's not accepting bad behavior from your little tots. Giving them consequences and not pushing them into situations that they are mentally not up to. And lots of praise for good behavior!)
As I got her first call (Mammy?) from her room this morning in the pitch dark, I looked to see it was 5.30am.
She's awake. She can't go back to sleep. There is a reason she awoke this morning an hour earlier than usual and it's halloween dress up day in school. She is going to be a nerd. She finally has the so wished for braces to add to her nerdity. She can't wait to dress up. And I have a lot of work ahead of me, so I may as well get up and get organized before she leaves for school.
As I was making my coffee, I thought, 'You wouldn't want to be a lazy Mum with a child like mine, nor an unfit one, nor too old.' (It doesn't mean I don't feel all of these symptoms this morning!)
My 11 year old also has sensory difficulties and this morning she's all clogged up from a cold. I begin a nasal wash with salt and water, to her dismay, but she knows it makes her feel better. She then has a good breakfast and we begin the task of washing her, hair brushing, plaiting, hair color spray, nail varnish, clothes, makeup. She needs me to help with all these things as she can't do it by herself. I am pretty good at grooming and hygene as I was a hairdresser and beauty therapist in my day, so my skills aren't lost.
In the meantime, she is so excited, she can't sit down. At this point, I can't really take my eyes off her, because anything could happen. Thankfully, it's 9am and my 20 year old daughter is dropping her to school this morning as I am not dressed and my house is now a mess.
My 11 year old doesn't need an SNA in school as she is really well behaved and they have her in a good routine, but they do watch her and keep an eye on her, so I know she's safe. I will pick her up at 3pm and she will be exhausted and sometimes deflated, if the day didn't go to plan.
As I sit here writing this with a thousands things to do today and a thousand things to worry about, all I'm feeling is blessed.
Jean xxx
As a Parent, your last thought is for yourself. It's the greatest gift of being a parent with a child who has more needs than others. You immediately become selfless. All thoughts of how you will get through these years goes out the window and is replaced with a force from within to help your child.
Being gifted with a child with needs is a blessing. You learn so much as I'm sure all of you out there would agree, you learn to be strong. You develop this amazing patience, love, acceptance, consistency and the ability to function with little sleep.
My last child has Dyspraxia, which in her means, immaturity for her age. As her 11 year old body is growing into puberty, she is a happy six year old, horrified at the thoughts of growing up changes happening to her body and not ready to hear it!
She has lots of conditions inside that diagnosis, but one of them is ADHD. She is impulsive, excitable and hyper active. (She could have been badly behaved, but thankfully, I got some very good help with behavior when she was four and it worked really well. It's really simple, it's not accepting bad behavior from your little tots. Giving them consequences and not pushing them into situations that they are mentally not up to. And lots of praise for good behavior!)
As I got her first call (Mammy?) from her room this morning in the pitch dark, I looked to see it was 5.30am.
She's awake. She can't go back to sleep. There is a reason she awoke this morning an hour earlier than usual and it's halloween dress up day in school. She is going to be a nerd. She finally has the so wished for braces to add to her nerdity. She can't wait to dress up. And I have a lot of work ahead of me, so I may as well get up and get organized before she leaves for school.
As I was making my coffee, I thought, 'You wouldn't want to be a lazy Mum with a child like mine, nor an unfit one, nor too old.' (It doesn't mean I don't feel all of these symptoms this morning!)
My 11 year old also has sensory difficulties and this morning she's all clogged up from a cold. I begin a nasal wash with salt and water, to her dismay, but she knows it makes her feel better. She then has a good breakfast and we begin the task of washing her, hair brushing, plaiting, hair color spray, nail varnish, clothes, makeup. She needs me to help with all these things as she can't do it by herself. I am pretty good at grooming and hygene as I was a hairdresser and beauty therapist in my day, so my skills aren't lost.
In the meantime, she is so excited, she can't sit down. At this point, I can't really take my eyes off her, because anything could happen. Thankfully, it's 9am and my 20 year old daughter is dropping her to school this morning as I am not dressed and my house is now a mess.
My 11 year old doesn't need an SNA in school as she is really well behaved and they have her in a good routine, but they do watch her and keep an eye on her, so I know she's safe. I will pick her up at 3pm and she will be exhausted and sometimes deflated, if the day didn't go to plan.
As I sit here writing this with a thousands things to do today and a thousand things to worry about, all I'm feeling is blessed.
Jean xxx
Sunday 11 October 2015
Social difficulties for children…...
Someone once told me that children with Dyspraxia constantly eat all the time as they never feel full. Now, this wasn't a medical opinion, it was just an observation the woman had made about a nephew of hers. Despite all of my daughter Yasmin's learning difficulties, I was worried about this the most. Yasmin did indeed want to eat a lot and I was wondering how I could prevent her from becoming obese in her life, especially when she becomes an adult.
Firstly, the least thing I could do, was make sure I cooked proper dinners at home. Yasmin thankfully likes all kinds of food, unless it's spicy, so I could easily get her to eat delicious chicken and vegetable stews and other rich and healthy vegetarian stews, with all sorts of veg. She loves salmon and steak too, so I have no excuse not to cook these foods, (when I can afford it!)
But she is like any other child too and she loves pizza, crisps, chips, sweets and soda's too. And trying to keep these in moderation is difficult, especially when Yasmin is at a social occasion, like her friends many birthday party's. Yasmin will sit at the table and eat a lot of goodies one after the other. She's not really interacting with her pals and they aren't interacting with her.
And I have discovered something. It's not that Yasmin wants to sit there and eat and not talk, it is because she can't maintain a conversation on her peer's level. She has a social immaturity. She 'fits in' as a normal 11 year old if she's munching on her food. She's busy. She doesn't have to try make a normal conversation.
And you know, this does sadden me a bit. I worry that she's being left out. Her friends are very kind to her, so I don't have to worry on that level.
So, I then have to remind myself at how well she is doing.
Thankfully, she loves the out doors and is always active, so that balances her appetite and keeps her body healthy. She loves her pony and show jumping and despite her poor muscle strength, she has achieved to get her stubborn pony to jump over the 80's course. She has a great drive. This is the good part of her ADHD diagnosis. She's very active and she's impulsive. This may prevent her from being afraid of tackling the high jumps.
She also never gives up.
Children with learning difficulties often have a difficulty in communicating their emotions; Their fears, their worries, when they are sad. They don't move into the next stage of development from childhood into emotional maturity. So when their bodies reach puberty, their minds are not ready for it.
This causes a lot of problems for young teenagers and their parents, which is why we and they have problems with the transition of secondary school.
Parents often miss the fact that their child may have a learning or social difficulty. And it's not their fault completely, especially if it is their first child. We all make more mistakes on our first child and I live to tell the tale!
I think the best lesson I learned in raising my children is to accept them for who they are. And don't push them into situations that they are not ready for. We all make the mistake of assuming our child is really assertive and well able just because they talk well and look older for their years. But if they're ten, they are only ten!
Children with social difficulties can lose their trust for their parents very quickly after just one mistake. And they will not share things with you after that. I remember I embarrassed Yasmin at age seven, by demanding why her friends wouldn't play with her!! After that everything is fine with Yasmin. She won't tell me when she's sick, feeling sad, lonely or bullied.
I've worked hard on my parenting skills since that day and I see the benefits of my now proper parenting, but it's a daily process.
Meeting the emotional needs of children is a challenging job. It's not for the faint hearted.
But it is the difference in raising a child to reach their full potential or leaving them to the difficulties of the harsh world on their own.
You may all realise this already, but these are the kids who end up suffering with depression, turning to crime/drugs and alcohol abuse.
Most of our services for children with social difficulties want to put our kids on tablets.
To calm them down.
I think the psychologists who take the time to listen to whats going on for the kids and their parents are the ones who give the correct diagnosis.
Not apposed to medication at all, but as my doctor said to me when I was 22, 'Yes, you probably do have a bit of depression, but before we go down the route of medication, lets figure it out first.'
It's a tricky one!
Jean xx
Firstly, the least thing I could do, was make sure I cooked proper dinners at home. Yasmin thankfully likes all kinds of food, unless it's spicy, so I could easily get her to eat delicious chicken and vegetable stews and other rich and healthy vegetarian stews, with all sorts of veg. She loves salmon and steak too, so I have no excuse not to cook these foods, (when I can afford it!)
But she is like any other child too and she loves pizza, crisps, chips, sweets and soda's too. And trying to keep these in moderation is difficult, especially when Yasmin is at a social occasion, like her friends many birthday party's. Yasmin will sit at the table and eat a lot of goodies one after the other. She's not really interacting with her pals and they aren't interacting with her.
And I have discovered something. It's not that Yasmin wants to sit there and eat and not talk, it is because she can't maintain a conversation on her peer's level. She has a social immaturity. She 'fits in' as a normal 11 year old if she's munching on her food. She's busy. She doesn't have to try make a normal conversation.
And you know, this does sadden me a bit. I worry that she's being left out. Her friends are very kind to her, so I don't have to worry on that level.
So, I then have to remind myself at how well she is doing.
Thankfully, she loves the out doors and is always active, so that balances her appetite and keeps her body healthy. She loves her pony and show jumping and despite her poor muscle strength, she has achieved to get her stubborn pony to jump over the 80's course. She has a great drive. This is the good part of her ADHD diagnosis. She's very active and she's impulsive. This may prevent her from being afraid of tackling the high jumps.
She also never gives up.
Children with learning difficulties often have a difficulty in communicating their emotions; Their fears, their worries, when they are sad. They don't move into the next stage of development from childhood into emotional maturity. So when their bodies reach puberty, their minds are not ready for it.
This causes a lot of problems for young teenagers and their parents, which is why we and they have problems with the transition of secondary school.
Parents often miss the fact that their child may have a learning or social difficulty. And it's not their fault completely, especially if it is their first child. We all make more mistakes on our first child and I live to tell the tale!
I think the best lesson I learned in raising my children is to accept them for who they are. And don't push them into situations that they are not ready for. We all make the mistake of assuming our child is really assertive and well able just because they talk well and look older for their years. But if they're ten, they are only ten!
Children with social difficulties can lose their trust for their parents very quickly after just one mistake. And they will not share things with you after that. I remember I embarrassed Yasmin at age seven, by demanding why her friends wouldn't play with her!! After that everything is fine with Yasmin. She won't tell me when she's sick, feeling sad, lonely or bullied.
I've worked hard on my parenting skills since that day and I see the benefits of my now proper parenting, but it's a daily process.
Meeting the emotional needs of children is a challenging job. It's not for the faint hearted.
But it is the difference in raising a child to reach their full potential or leaving them to the difficulties of the harsh world on their own.
You may all realise this already, but these are the kids who end up suffering with depression, turning to crime/drugs and alcohol abuse.
Most of our services for children with social difficulties want to put our kids on tablets.
To calm them down.
I think the psychologists who take the time to listen to whats going on for the kids and their parents are the ones who give the correct diagnosis.
Not apposed to medication at all, but as my doctor said to me when I was 22, 'Yes, you probably do have a bit of depression, but before we go down the route of medication, lets figure it out first.'
It's a tricky one!
Jean xx
Wednesday 7 October 2015
Dignity in Mental Health
How indeed do we keep our dignity while suffering a mental illness?
As a 48 year old woman who suffers from depression, I'm speaking from my own experience but I can imagine it can be somewhat like this for others too.
Depression for me began when I hit puberty, at about ten years of age. Ok, so I had a parent that was angry and aggressive due to his alcohol issue and his behaviour made me afraid. I didn't know how to deal with this fear as a child, so I hid it for the most part. I was able to go about my duties as a child with my friends and appear normal. I did cry when there were difficult times at home and I did wish I was dead by the time I was 14, and I even contemplated taking my own life then to escape the fear.
But nobody knew I was depressed, not even me. I was able to get on with things. I appeared to be a normal, happy, boisterous, teenager on the outside. I looked normal (albeit an ugly duck). I didn't look depressed. I was young. My face hadn't learned to be haggard with depression at that point in my life.
My behaviour changed dramatically after I had my first child at 22 when I was either crying inconsolably or extremely angry. I suspected I could be depressed but couldn't see that any of these emotions were related to depression. I just thought I was a horrible person. My doctor encouraged me down the road of self help, rather than medication at the time and it was the right thing to do, as I needed to learn about myself.
I worked really well in the self help program and I definitely improved. I was a very busy young woman at that time with working full time, but I seemed to be managing.
When I had my second child six years later at age 28, I again went into a depression. It was fear based. I was irrational. I spoke about a trip away to Majorca in 1996 with my husband in my book (My Beautiful Flower) without the kids, where I was convinced Saddam Hussein was going to blow up Ireland while I was gone. I still remember the two kind Scottish ladies faces when I told them, while I was waiting anxiously for the news. They must have thought I was mad!
I was full of fear. But once I was home safely in Ireland, I was able to perform again and appear to be normal to the outside world. I knew I was struggling with something inside me, but I wasn't sure what it was.
From the age of 34. I began to be less and less able to control or hide my outbursts. I found everything difficult; The workplace, my relationship with my husband and my relationships with my kids. By the time my last child came along 11 years ago, I was 38 and I knew I was suffering with depression. I couldn't function and I now had a huge hatred for myself and my face was beginning to tell the tale. I was haggard looking. I also felt physically ill and I had no interest in my appearance. Because I was aware of all this, I didn't want to see anybody, nor talk to anybody. I couldn't even face the doctor at my worst. I had to wait till my emotions recovered a bit. No matter how mentally ill I was, I couldn't go to the doctor looking and acting the way I did. (This is important because the doctor is not getting a real record of your illness, because of your infrequent visits!)
This is more common than you would imagine. The last thing any person wants to be seen as, is some mad women sobbing out of control and looking a wreck and having to sit and wait in a waiting room exposed to all.
This is the reason why doctors don't diagnose depression correctly. They misread the patient. If the patient looks presentable, it must mean they are well enough. They don't listen to the patient. They are unsympathetic to the patient. They send them home with, 'Ah you're grand' attitude. That's why sometimes patients may go and take their own life. They feel there is no help. They hate themselves. There is no escape.
I think the worst thing for us sufferers of Depression is that your personality is exposed or the very worst side of it is exposed. Despite your mental illness, you still feel embarrassment and shame. You dislike yourself. And because of the sensitivity of the nature of your illness, you're easily put off from getting help by insensitive administrators, nurses and doctors. You also have to divulge innermost thoughts to the Doctor in order to get proper help and most of us don't want to do that or can't.
Hospital staff's insensitive behaviour towards me only confirmed my feelings of unworthy-ness to myself by treating me with no dignity. I was an unworthy person. I hated myself.
My experience of these nurses and doctors would prevent me from going there for future help. And that is the pity. That will just give you an idea of how many people could be in my position......
Amazingly enough I found the ambulance men, during my spell of panic attacks, more understanding and knowledgable, so I must commend them.
I, like many others was prescribed medication, which I'm still on, but for me, it helped clear the clouds. It didn't have any nasty side effects, so it suited me. But I also had a lot of work to do on myself. I had to find my way out of the clouds completely.
I had to figure me out. I asked God for help.
I did get fantastic guidelines from one very good therapist, Linda Keen from the UK, who was in Ireland for a few years, but inevitably, I was going to have to help myself. I looked at my personality and I could see where I was letting myself down. I had to start being good to me, respect me, accept me.
I apologized to my family for the way I behaved while I was depressed and I worked hard on changing. I changed. I didn't go back to that person.
I began to practice positive thinking and gratitude. I focused on myself and released my mind from negative resentments. This really started to turn my life around. I took fresh air walks everyday and I truly felt God's guidance. I ate well and slept well.
I began to fell happy. Secure. Confidence in myself.
I am also conscious of treating people with compassion, respect and dignity.
Because I know for a fact, that it would make a huge difference to people in pain.
Jean xx
As a 48 year old woman who suffers from depression, I'm speaking from my own experience but I can imagine it can be somewhat like this for others too.
Depression for me began when I hit puberty, at about ten years of age. Ok, so I had a parent that was angry and aggressive due to his alcohol issue and his behaviour made me afraid. I didn't know how to deal with this fear as a child, so I hid it for the most part. I was able to go about my duties as a child with my friends and appear normal. I did cry when there were difficult times at home and I did wish I was dead by the time I was 14, and I even contemplated taking my own life then to escape the fear.
But nobody knew I was depressed, not even me. I was able to get on with things. I appeared to be a normal, happy, boisterous, teenager on the outside. I looked normal (albeit an ugly duck). I didn't look depressed. I was young. My face hadn't learned to be haggard with depression at that point in my life.
My behaviour changed dramatically after I had my first child at 22 when I was either crying inconsolably or extremely angry. I suspected I could be depressed but couldn't see that any of these emotions were related to depression. I just thought I was a horrible person. My doctor encouraged me down the road of self help, rather than medication at the time and it was the right thing to do, as I needed to learn about myself.
I worked really well in the self help program and I definitely improved. I was a very busy young woman at that time with working full time, but I seemed to be managing.
When I had my second child six years later at age 28, I again went into a depression. It was fear based. I was irrational. I spoke about a trip away to Majorca in 1996 with my husband in my book (My Beautiful Flower) without the kids, where I was convinced Saddam Hussein was going to blow up Ireland while I was gone. I still remember the two kind Scottish ladies faces when I told them, while I was waiting anxiously for the news. They must have thought I was mad!
I was full of fear. But once I was home safely in Ireland, I was able to perform again and appear to be normal to the outside world. I knew I was struggling with something inside me, but I wasn't sure what it was.
From the age of 34. I began to be less and less able to control or hide my outbursts. I found everything difficult; The workplace, my relationship with my husband and my relationships with my kids. By the time my last child came along 11 years ago, I was 38 and I knew I was suffering with depression. I couldn't function and I now had a huge hatred for myself and my face was beginning to tell the tale. I was haggard looking. I also felt physically ill and I had no interest in my appearance. Because I was aware of all this, I didn't want to see anybody, nor talk to anybody. I couldn't even face the doctor at my worst. I had to wait till my emotions recovered a bit. No matter how mentally ill I was, I couldn't go to the doctor looking and acting the way I did. (This is important because the doctor is not getting a real record of your illness, because of your infrequent visits!)
This is more common than you would imagine. The last thing any person wants to be seen as, is some mad women sobbing out of control and looking a wreck and having to sit and wait in a waiting room exposed to all.
This is the reason why doctors don't diagnose depression correctly. They misread the patient. If the patient looks presentable, it must mean they are well enough. They don't listen to the patient. They are unsympathetic to the patient. They send them home with, 'Ah you're grand' attitude. That's why sometimes patients may go and take their own life. They feel there is no help. They hate themselves. There is no escape.
I think the worst thing for us sufferers of Depression is that your personality is exposed or the very worst side of it is exposed. Despite your mental illness, you still feel embarrassment and shame. You dislike yourself. And because of the sensitivity of the nature of your illness, you're easily put off from getting help by insensitive administrators, nurses and doctors. You also have to divulge innermost thoughts to the Doctor in order to get proper help and most of us don't want to do that or can't.
Hospital staff's insensitive behaviour towards me only confirmed my feelings of unworthy-ness to myself by treating me with no dignity. I was an unworthy person. I hated myself.
My experience of these nurses and doctors would prevent me from going there for future help. And that is the pity. That will just give you an idea of how many people could be in my position......
Amazingly enough I found the ambulance men, during my spell of panic attacks, more understanding and knowledgable, so I must commend them.
I, like many others was prescribed medication, which I'm still on, but for me, it helped clear the clouds. It didn't have any nasty side effects, so it suited me. But I also had a lot of work to do on myself. I had to find my way out of the clouds completely.
I had to figure me out. I asked God for help.
I did get fantastic guidelines from one very good therapist, Linda Keen from the UK, who was in Ireland for a few years, but inevitably, I was going to have to help myself. I looked at my personality and I could see where I was letting myself down. I had to start being good to me, respect me, accept me.
I apologized to my family for the way I behaved while I was depressed and I worked hard on changing. I changed. I didn't go back to that person.
I began to practice positive thinking and gratitude. I focused on myself and released my mind from negative resentments. This really started to turn my life around. I took fresh air walks everyday and I truly felt God's guidance. I ate well and slept well.
I began to fell happy. Secure. Confidence in myself.
I am also conscious of treating people with compassion, respect and dignity.
Because I know for a fact, that it would make a huge difference to people in pain.
Jean xx
Friday 2 October 2015
Young killers!
Blatant Young killers are storming our television's screens daily. No country or city has escaped their brutality. They have blown up airports and planes during flights, terrifying passengers in their final moments of life. They have shot innocent people unaware of their imminent demise. They have run people over in their huge trucks like dirty cockroach's whilst all the time shooting them to make sure they have not survived.
They are able to get their weapons easily and their qualification to shoot, but it's the complexity of these young killers minds that gives them the justification to kill another human being that is so scary. Their lack of conscience. Because this young breed of men can end the world with their plague should they choose. And like any terminating disease, it's almost impossible to find the source.
How are these young men attracted to the killing organizations that justify their murderous actions?
The human being's weakness is security, inclusion. And the leaders of these organizations know what type of young man to target and how. It's almost as simple as luring a child with sweets. They pull these young men in with complements and promises of success, while gently brainwashing them in the process. Brainwashing is a way of changing one's mind. It doesn't need to be drug induced to do so, or bashing a person's head in. On the contrary, it's working on a mind that may have some belief or awareness of a certain plight and then filling it with reassurances and examples.
So, before they know it, these young men are in too deep and they can't escape even if they wanted to. They are sent on a killing spree with bombs tied around their waste waiting to detonate. For someone else's hate.
The leaders of that hatred will not put their face's nor bodies in the firing line, for fear of recognition.
There will be no dying young for them.
The ownership of power soon leaves the young man's face as realization dawns on him.
But then it's too late for all.
Jean xxx
They are able to get their weapons easily and their qualification to shoot, but it's the complexity of these young killers minds that gives them the justification to kill another human being that is so scary. Their lack of conscience. Because this young breed of men can end the world with their plague should they choose. And like any terminating disease, it's almost impossible to find the source.
How are these young men attracted to the killing organizations that justify their murderous actions?
The human being's weakness is security, inclusion. And the leaders of these organizations know what type of young man to target and how. It's almost as simple as luring a child with sweets. They pull these young men in with complements and promises of success, while gently brainwashing them in the process. Brainwashing is a way of changing one's mind. It doesn't need to be drug induced to do so, or bashing a person's head in. On the contrary, it's working on a mind that may have some belief or awareness of a certain plight and then filling it with reassurances and examples.
So, before they know it, these young men are in too deep and they can't escape even if they wanted to. They are sent on a killing spree with bombs tied around their waste waiting to detonate. For someone else's hate.
The leaders of that hatred will not put their face's nor bodies in the firing line, for fear of recognition.
There will be no dying young for them.
The ownership of power soon leaves the young man's face as realization dawns on him.
But then it's too late for all.
Jean xxx
Wednesday 23 September 2015
An Uneducated Author....
A lover of books all of my 48 years, I'm trying to remember when that first gifted moment was that I discovered the joy of reading. As a four year old girl, I adored picture story books where the colorful characters told most of the story. I thought I would miss those types of books at age seven as I moved on to those without pictures, but as my own imagination developed, the pictures in my mind were beautifully explicit, leading me on to my real love of reading.
My Dad, an uneducated man, loved reading and he would encourage myself and my five sisters to read the newspapers, telling us the importance of current affairs. He also liked to play a 'Capital's' game with us, where every Friday he would ask each of us the names of the capital cities from around the World. He would then go and buy us our favorite weekly magazine that he had pre-ordered in our local shop. The beautiful glossy magazines would have each of our six names written on the covers.
I was happy to leave school at sixteen and get a job as a hairdresser. There wasn't an option to go to college. It just wasn't the done thing in the north side of Dublin city, so I didn't feel I missed out on anything.
I gave hairdressing my best shot for almost thirty years, but something didn't feel right. I just couldn't be successful at it and I wanted success in my life. Success in the sense of a secured income from my own job. I couldn't get that from hairdressing.
Towards the latter few years, I found myself writing thoughts down on little scraps of paper and popping them into my bedside locker. I didn't know exactly what I intended to do with them but the thoughts or words were the inspirational kind. Sometimes they were words that my little girl Yasmin would say that made me smile, or sometimes it was information I had just heard from someone on the radio. Sometimes they would be words and thoughts of my own that I had to write down immediately, in case I lost them from my memory for ever.
I knew after I had read a great book, in the back of mind I would think 'Wouldn't it be great to be able to write like that?' But I knew for sure that I wouldn't know where to start. That I didn't have the skill nor the education.
Until one day, three years ago almost to the day, I got all of my pieces of paper and notebooks from my bedside locker and I began.
One thing that I noticed about me through my life was that I always had an opinion about things. The Human Being's plight had an impression on me. I was and still am, truly touched by the unfairness of racialism, the suffering of the poor and the destruction of their life at the hands of their murderous leaders. I would often phone radio hosts with my opinions until I realized, that I should probably write these communications down as I also would have the chance to express my words properly.
One of the things that had prevented me from writing in the past was my technology skills. Where would I start writing on my computer? What section? I didn't have 'Word' on my apple, so I chose I-writer. I found that I was able to type chapters and then save them onto the computer. Fab! I couldn't believe my luck! It was working! I kept re-checking the files to be sure I hadn't lost any of my precious words and it was all systems go. I wrote about my own personal struggles and growth in my life. The words flowed and I was quite amazed at that. I was amazed also to find that it wasn't a bad story. In fact, it was a little good!
When it came for me to copy my story onto a disc and send it to a publisher, I unplugged my whole computer and brought it down to a very amused lad in the computer shop in my local mall saying "Please copy this for me!"
Three years on and my writing and my computer skills have improved!
I've found my passion in life is now writing and as I write my stories, I'm doing so from the eye of a reader. I feel in my gut if something is repetitive and unhelpful.
I also know how to use 'word' and my only delay from attaching and saving files is our sometimes unreliable network!
It's true what they say about learning from your mistakes and the computer is such a great tool in that words are easily erased and re-written, unlike the hand written books of past authors from not too many years ago!
I can see that I'm improving with each piece I write and I aspire to be a great writer. My regular blogs are about life in general and are informative and sometimes even funny!
There is a whole world of talent out there and it's hard to get your work noticed, but there's room for us all. I like to take note of some inspirational quotes to keep me focused and motivated and one of my favorite is Walt Disney's (shortened version) "When you do something, do it well! Do it so well, that people will want to re-visit it time and time again!"
Jean Murray
My Dad, an uneducated man, loved reading and he would encourage myself and my five sisters to read the newspapers, telling us the importance of current affairs. He also liked to play a 'Capital's' game with us, where every Friday he would ask each of us the names of the capital cities from around the World. He would then go and buy us our favorite weekly magazine that he had pre-ordered in our local shop. The beautiful glossy magazines would have each of our six names written on the covers.
I was happy to leave school at sixteen and get a job as a hairdresser. There wasn't an option to go to college. It just wasn't the done thing in the north side of Dublin city, so I didn't feel I missed out on anything.
I gave hairdressing my best shot for almost thirty years, but something didn't feel right. I just couldn't be successful at it and I wanted success in my life. Success in the sense of a secured income from my own job. I couldn't get that from hairdressing.
Towards the latter few years, I found myself writing thoughts down on little scraps of paper and popping them into my bedside locker. I didn't know exactly what I intended to do with them but the thoughts or words were the inspirational kind. Sometimes they were words that my little girl Yasmin would say that made me smile, or sometimes it was information I had just heard from someone on the radio. Sometimes they would be words and thoughts of my own that I had to write down immediately, in case I lost them from my memory for ever.
I knew after I had read a great book, in the back of mind I would think 'Wouldn't it be great to be able to write like that?' But I knew for sure that I wouldn't know where to start. That I didn't have the skill nor the education.
Until one day, three years ago almost to the day, I got all of my pieces of paper and notebooks from my bedside locker and I began.
One thing that I noticed about me through my life was that I always had an opinion about things. The Human Being's plight had an impression on me. I was and still am, truly touched by the unfairness of racialism, the suffering of the poor and the destruction of their life at the hands of their murderous leaders. I would often phone radio hosts with my opinions until I realized, that I should probably write these communications down as I also would have the chance to express my words properly.
One of the things that had prevented me from writing in the past was my technology skills. Where would I start writing on my computer? What section? I didn't have 'Word' on my apple, so I chose I-writer. I found that I was able to type chapters and then save them onto the computer. Fab! I couldn't believe my luck! It was working! I kept re-checking the files to be sure I hadn't lost any of my precious words and it was all systems go. I wrote about my own personal struggles and growth in my life. The words flowed and I was quite amazed at that. I was amazed also to find that it wasn't a bad story. In fact, it was a little good!
When it came for me to copy my story onto a disc and send it to a publisher, I unplugged my whole computer and brought it down to a very amused lad in the computer shop in my local mall saying "Please copy this for me!"
Three years on and my writing and my computer skills have improved!
I've found my passion in life is now writing and as I write my stories, I'm doing so from the eye of a reader. I feel in my gut if something is repetitive and unhelpful.
I also know how to use 'word' and my only delay from attaching and saving files is our sometimes unreliable network!
It's true what they say about learning from your mistakes and the computer is such a great tool in that words are easily erased and re-written, unlike the hand written books of past authors from not too many years ago!
I can see that I'm improving with each piece I write and I aspire to be a great writer. My regular blogs are about life in general and are informative and sometimes even funny!
There is a whole world of talent out there and it's hard to get your work noticed, but there's room for us all. I like to take note of some inspirational quotes to keep me focused and motivated and one of my favorite is Walt Disney's (shortened version) "When you do something, do it well! Do it so well, that people will want to re-visit it time and time again!"
Jean Murray
Saturday 19 September 2015
The plight of the Irish Homeless....
Listening to Pat Kenny this morning on Newstalk on my way to feed our pony in Broadmeadows Stables, they were talking about the disturbance the new Luas line is causing in Dublin city. The Newstalk reporters were interviewing people on the street and they came across this homeless woman. She was pointing out in her broad North side accent that the government should put the 360 million euros into providing homes for the homeless. I smiled when she went on to say she wasn't long out of prison for armed robbery and now she was living on the streets again. The reporter obviously not in touch with poor people's reality, (and I'm not holding this against him) asked her 'Was she proud of her herself?' To which she replied, "No, I didn't get a Blue Peter badge for my behavior! Duh! But I did what I did to provide for my children."
You know, in this woman's uneducated life full of poverty and addiction, she still tried to provide for her children in the only way she knew. And what happened to her children while she went to prison? Obviously they ended up in care. Who paid for all this prison and children's care at a very high cost? The government.
So where are the government going wrong? And why is the Homeless situation so bad that women have to live on the street with their children?
Deeply effected by the conditions that the homeless people live in, I wrote a poem about it and it's in my book 'My Beautiful Flower' called Under the Great Gates of The Bank of Ireland.
Unfortunately, most of the people I see homeless are effected with addition problems. I deeply sympathize with people with addictions as I have experienced family members with addiction in my life also. And I know it's almost impossible to live with an addicted person, that there is very little you can do for a person who is addicted to drugs or alcohol. They have to want to tackle that issue themselves.
This is a harsh one, but people who are addicted end up on the streets because they can't conform to living a regular life either with a family member or especially on their own. They may have a better chance of not being homeless if a family member can tolerate everything that comes with addition. They can't perform as a responsible person in the home, going to bed at a normal time, they have no interest in their appearance, they don't contribute to the household, they don't clean their surroundings. And often with addiction comes a soiling problem. Despite love, it would take a very strong person to be able to cope with an addicted person.
An addicted person cannot live in a home by themselves for all of the very same reasons and unfortunately their main goal is to feed their addiction, leaving no money to pay bills or feed their children. They end up homeless. Even the homeless centre's have restrictions. They won't provide a bed for a person who is intoxicated or drugged. They also have to be in by 9pm which doesn't go well with the addicted person's lifestyle choice. At this point in the addicted person's life, they unfortunately are the only one's who can change their dilemma.
The other percentage of young people homeless are those who have been abused by addiction in their family home and they are forced to live on the streets. I can imagine it is a huge struggle for them to stay sober in the harshness of an indignant life on the streets.
This is where the government is to blame. In my book, I go into great detail proving that children who's emotional and educational needs are not met in their early years leads them to depression or/and addiction. When these children are going to school and it is soon apparent that they have learning difficulties, the resource should immediately be available to these children and instead it's not. The government do not provide enough resource's fro the teachers in the schools to help these children. The children often suffer with low self esteem as young as five years of age and then the problem grows as they get older and they have to struggle through the educational system. The government is failing our children in our schools. And they know this. They've known it for a long time, even as far back as when I was a child, (I'm 48). There were kids in our classes that were left down the back and got no help. Our government has always been educated to know this, us ordinary people are only catching on.
It is only parents with money who can afford the high prices of private assessments and tutoring who meet the needs of their child with learning difficulties.
Can you blame the other parents for being resentful? They love their child just as much but are not equipped to help them.
The other reason people may end up homeless is the huge cost of mortgages and rent. We all know during the crash many people had to leave their dream home because they couldn't meet their payments. Did the government give them a hand? No. Maybe they could have given them their 60,000 euros stamp duty they had paid on buying their expensive property. No, the government didn't do that either. They put these Father's and Mother's and their four children out of their home and onto the street. Into hotels that the government paid their rents for. Really? Come on Government! Didn't you think? Would you leave your beautiful homes? Oh no, you don't have to, because your humongous salary met your needs, your children's needs and indeed all your mortgage repayments.
You can't help people being resentful and angry. Of course we appreciate the construction of modernization for our city and the tourists that come. But can't you see you're doing just what Maria Antoinette did in the French Revolution all those years ago?
"If they have no bread, well let them eat cake!"
Jean xx
You know, in this woman's uneducated life full of poverty and addiction, she still tried to provide for her children in the only way she knew. And what happened to her children while she went to prison? Obviously they ended up in care. Who paid for all this prison and children's care at a very high cost? The government.
So where are the government going wrong? And why is the Homeless situation so bad that women have to live on the street with their children?
Deeply effected by the conditions that the homeless people live in, I wrote a poem about it and it's in my book 'My Beautiful Flower' called Under the Great Gates of The Bank of Ireland.
Unfortunately, most of the people I see homeless are effected with addition problems. I deeply sympathize with people with addictions as I have experienced family members with addiction in my life also. And I know it's almost impossible to live with an addicted person, that there is very little you can do for a person who is addicted to drugs or alcohol. They have to want to tackle that issue themselves.
This is a harsh one, but people who are addicted end up on the streets because they can't conform to living a regular life either with a family member or especially on their own. They may have a better chance of not being homeless if a family member can tolerate everything that comes with addition. They can't perform as a responsible person in the home, going to bed at a normal time, they have no interest in their appearance, they don't contribute to the household, they don't clean their surroundings. And often with addiction comes a soiling problem. Despite love, it would take a very strong person to be able to cope with an addicted person.
An addicted person cannot live in a home by themselves for all of the very same reasons and unfortunately their main goal is to feed their addiction, leaving no money to pay bills or feed their children. They end up homeless. Even the homeless centre's have restrictions. They won't provide a bed for a person who is intoxicated or drugged. They also have to be in by 9pm which doesn't go well with the addicted person's lifestyle choice. At this point in the addicted person's life, they unfortunately are the only one's who can change their dilemma.
The other percentage of young people homeless are those who have been abused by addiction in their family home and they are forced to live on the streets. I can imagine it is a huge struggle for them to stay sober in the harshness of an indignant life on the streets.
This is where the government is to blame. In my book, I go into great detail proving that children who's emotional and educational needs are not met in their early years leads them to depression or/and addiction. When these children are going to school and it is soon apparent that they have learning difficulties, the resource should immediately be available to these children and instead it's not. The government do not provide enough resource's fro the teachers in the schools to help these children. The children often suffer with low self esteem as young as five years of age and then the problem grows as they get older and they have to struggle through the educational system. The government is failing our children in our schools. And they know this. They've known it for a long time, even as far back as when I was a child, (I'm 48). There were kids in our classes that were left down the back and got no help. Our government has always been educated to know this, us ordinary people are only catching on.
It is only parents with money who can afford the high prices of private assessments and tutoring who meet the needs of their child with learning difficulties.
Can you blame the other parents for being resentful? They love their child just as much but are not equipped to help them.
The other reason people may end up homeless is the huge cost of mortgages and rent. We all know during the crash many people had to leave their dream home because they couldn't meet their payments. Did the government give them a hand? No. Maybe they could have given them their 60,000 euros stamp duty they had paid on buying their expensive property. No, the government didn't do that either. They put these Father's and Mother's and their four children out of their home and onto the street. Into hotels that the government paid their rents for. Really? Come on Government! Didn't you think? Would you leave your beautiful homes? Oh no, you don't have to, because your humongous salary met your needs, your children's needs and indeed all your mortgage repayments.
You can't help people being resentful and angry. Of course we appreciate the construction of modernization for our city and the tourists that come. But can't you see you're doing just what Maria Antoinette did in the French Revolution all those years ago?
"If they have no bread, well let them eat cake!"
Jean xx
Wednesday 16 September 2015
Being a rule breaker myself.....
I got a great giggle from my daughter Sarah and my nephew Ryan who shared their tales of their job as ride attendants this Summer in Roller- Coaster parks. These poor unfortunate 20 year olds had to do special training against the most unwelcome visitor of the parks, 'The Mother'. Yes, 'The Mother' is the most dreaded customer of a Rollar-Coaster Park. The young employees were warned,"Do not back down, nor give in to 'The Mother' at any time! If you need back-up, call security!
Do not underestimate 'The Mother'. Because 'The Mother' will do anything to skip the queue!
She can also harvest the seven most deadly emotions at any one time: Agitation, Impatience, Sensitivity, Stress, Anger, Aggression and Tears and fire them at you like missiles, one after the other. She won't stop until she has, A. accomplished her mission to skip the queue and B. get future free admission to The Roller-Coaster Park.
Now we can all get a little bit frustrated with these gorgeous young ride attendants. They could probably go a little bit faster themselves to help things move on a bit quicker, oh yeah, but then we'd have to wake them up! Or we might have to interrupt their flirting with Josephine or Mary across the next line.
The Mother in the mean time has already broken her first rule of The Roller-Coaster Park as she doesn't like to pay the full cost of entry for her ten year old twins. They will be shoved into a buggy with soothers in their mouths and told to say they're nearly three, they're tall for their age! When they get to their ride of choice, she will lift them up to reach the required height, saying, 'They are twelve!'
She will sneak pets in, not wanting to leave her little doggy home alone. She'll hide him under the jacket of little Susan just to give him the life threatening experience of his first Roller Coaster. If the ride attendant is awake and comes over to investigate, The Mother will roar, 'Get your hands off my child!'
She will sneak food into the Park saying if caught, 'My children have lots of allergies and can't eat that Park food crap!'
If the ride attendant is not chatting with 'The Mother' and her little angels while she's at the top of the queue, because the attendant is too busy doing selfies and checking her pose in her IPhone 6, She will immediately call the manager and complain about the whole day! The price! The service! The ride attendants attitude! The queues! The heat! The rain! The people! The seats, not enough of them or too many that she's banging into them! The kids! And don't forget the lockers! The Mother hates to put her bags into lockers, she insists on bringing them on the Roller-Coaster!
And God help you if you're the attendant who has to weigh her family for the latest four seated rubber tire that can do double flips and dives for the modest family combined weight of 700 pounds. If they weigh over the 700 pounds, they'll have to go in twos. "What do you mean we weigh over 700 pounds? Are you saying we're fat? That scales is wrong! We are not over weight! Bring me another scales! Get me the manager!'
And if you are neck and neck in line with 'The Mother' don't even think about skipping her because she will come up to your face and threaten to kill you, kill your mother and kill all of your family! And she is not joking!
When the ride attendant's shift changes three times and 'The Mother' is still in the queue and the tired and over worked attendant lets the next person in before her by accident.....
He may just run for his life!
'No Shauna! The Mother is not me!'
Jean xxx
Do not underestimate 'The Mother'. Because 'The Mother' will do anything to skip the queue!
She can also harvest the seven most deadly emotions at any one time: Agitation, Impatience, Sensitivity, Stress, Anger, Aggression and Tears and fire them at you like missiles, one after the other. She won't stop until she has, A. accomplished her mission to skip the queue and B. get future free admission to The Roller-Coaster Park.
Now we can all get a little bit frustrated with these gorgeous young ride attendants. They could probably go a little bit faster themselves to help things move on a bit quicker, oh yeah, but then we'd have to wake them up! Or we might have to interrupt their flirting with Josephine or Mary across the next line.
The Mother in the mean time has already broken her first rule of The Roller-Coaster Park as she doesn't like to pay the full cost of entry for her ten year old twins. They will be shoved into a buggy with soothers in their mouths and told to say they're nearly three, they're tall for their age! When they get to their ride of choice, she will lift them up to reach the required height, saying, 'They are twelve!'
She will sneak pets in, not wanting to leave her little doggy home alone. She'll hide him under the jacket of little Susan just to give him the life threatening experience of his first Roller Coaster. If the ride attendant is awake and comes over to investigate, The Mother will roar, 'Get your hands off my child!'
She will sneak food into the Park saying if caught, 'My children have lots of allergies and can't eat that Park food crap!'
If the ride attendant is not chatting with 'The Mother' and her little angels while she's at the top of the queue, because the attendant is too busy doing selfies and checking her pose in her IPhone 6, She will immediately call the manager and complain about the whole day! The price! The service! The ride attendants attitude! The queues! The heat! The rain! The people! The seats, not enough of them or too many that she's banging into them! The kids! And don't forget the lockers! The Mother hates to put her bags into lockers, she insists on bringing them on the Roller-Coaster!
And God help you if you're the attendant who has to weigh her family for the latest four seated rubber tire that can do double flips and dives for the modest family combined weight of 700 pounds. If they weigh over the 700 pounds, they'll have to go in twos. "What do you mean we weigh over 700 pounds? Are you saying we're fat? That scales is wrong! We are not over weight! Bring me another scales! Get me the manager!'
And if you are neck and neck in line with 'The Mother' don't even think about skipping her because she will come up to your face and threaten to kill you, kill your mother and kill all of your family! And she is not joking!
When the ride attendant's shift changes three times and 'The Mother' is still in the queue and the tired and over worked attendant lets the next person in before her by accident.....
He may just run for his life!
'No Shauna! The Mother is not me!'
Jean xxx
Tuesday 15 September 2015
A New life
As I lay in my bed tonight I just thought that tomorrow will be my first born's 26th Birthday. I was remembering all the funny details of his birth and I had to get up and write this down. Isn't it funny how you can remember your first child's birth with such clarity? I don't remember half the details of my girls births now aged aged 20 and 11!
I was just 21 years of age when I became pregnant. I wasn't married but I was engaged to my boyfriend Anto, (now hubby). We were madly in love and we were at it as often as young people in love and lust can be at it. I was actually one of those girls who was on 'The Pill', believe it or not, it happens more than you think!
We had been away in America working and had come home for a visit when I realized I was caught! Anto was in shock to say the least. I guess boys don't get good sex education in school as he kept saying, 'How did it happen?' I would say, having loads of sex had a big part to play in it! I actually took the news very well. I was in love. All would be well. Women are more mature like that....
I remember telling my poor Father who became traumatized and horrified that his young daughter was to be an 'Unmarried Mother' as we were called in the day.
We were soon back in America and me and my bff shared an apartment with our lads. There was a big crowd of us Irish in Naples Florida and we had lots of fun. We loved the Florida weather and we would spend every weekend on the beautiful gulf beaches, everybody laughing and tanned. I forgot how young and carefree we were.
I had a very healthy pregnancy and had no need to go to the doctor till I was about seven months. We had no insurance over there and I wasn't sure if I was going home to Ireland to have the baby. I think I was waiting for my dad to say, 'When are you coming home?'
Anyway the doctor decided for me, it was too late for me to fly, I would have to check into a hospital.
Now my Ma had already been sending me over bottles of liquid parafin. Does any body know what that is? Well neither did I, but my Ma said take it every day, it'll help the baby come out easier. 'Holy Mother, this didn't sound good. What did she mean?' My poor Mother. I can only imagine the worry she went through then over me. Her first child giving birth and she not being able to be there for me. To be honest, I wouldn't have wanted my Ma to see me in such pain.
Because the pain came. Oh dear Lord Mother of Jesus! Like a hot poker up your bum! Theres no really other good way to explain the excruciating pain that is Labour. Oh my God.
I had been in Labour all day on the 15th September 1989. To be fair, it was all very bearable till 12 o'clock that night, when the real pain came. It was so funny because my Ma's advice was, 'not to go into hospital till the third stage, they'll only be fiddling with you!' So I had been reading the book on the stages and the feckers got it wrong, because my first and second stage didn't happen. There was no mucus, there was no plug, there was no water, just Mother of Devine chronic burning pain. Eventually, at 5.30 am, I let Anto wake the others to bring us to the hospital.
Everybody was so excited, but I was just counting the minutes till I got to the hospital for that thing that took all pain away, 'The Epidural'. My other pal Teresa and her fella decided to come along too, so John drove and I was in front beside him and Anto and the other three were in the back. I didn't feel like pushing at all but I did feel an overwhelming pain in my groin. I told John to drive faster and he speeded through the early morning dawn to the Naples Community Hospital. It was 6am when we arrived (thankfully alive) and my friends somehow got me into a wheelchair and rushed me in. I still had no leakage so the first thing I asked for was the Epidural. Because in my reckoning, I was still in my first stage of labour!
The nurses took me away to have a 'Look' at me. I knew then what my Ma meant by fiddling with me. (Not for the faint hearted) At that the nurses got very excited, "You're ready to push! Aren't you great? Very quick you are! Fab!" As they wheeled me off to delivery. "But my waters didn't come, there's no mucus! Can I have the epidural please?" I whimpered in pain. "It's too late for that! You're baby will be here in a minute! Push!"
Well I checked the clock and it was 10 mins past 6 when I went into the delivery suite and at ten mins to 7, I was still pushing! (And make sure you have a good clear out, otherwise pooh comes! It's all very embarrassing!)
Then the mean old nasty Doctor came in to have a look, "Needs an episiotomy," I heard him say. "Whats an episiotomy?" I asked as I found out to my horror as the knife cut me open down below, (without anesthesia). "Aghh!" I screamed as I heard a gush of water come out, (There was my stage 1) with blood and mucus, (My stage 2) and a baby's cry. It was a boy! He looked perfectly formed and he had ten fingers and ten toes and he was the most beautiful thing that I would ever see in my life. A new baby.
A new life.
Jean xx
I was just 21 years of age when I became pregnant. I wasn't married but I was engaged to my boyfriend Anto, (now hubby). We were madly in love and we were at it as often as young people in love and lust can be at it. I was actually one of those girls who was on 'The Pill', believe it or not, it happens more than you think!
We had been away in America working and had come home for a visit when I realized I was caught! Anto was in shock to say the least. I guess boys don't get good sex education in school as he kept saying, 'How did it happen?' I would say, having loads of sex had a big part to play in it! I actually took the news very well. I was in love. All would be well. Women are more mature like that....
I remember telling my poor Father who became traumatized and horrified that his young daughter was to be an 'Unmarried Mother' as we were called in the day.
We were soon back in America and me and my bff shared an apartment with our lads. There was a big crowd of us Irish in Naples Florida and we had lots of fun. We loved the Florida weather and we would spend every weekend on the beautiful gulf beaches, everybody laughing and tanned. I forgot how young and carefree we were.
I had a very healthy pregnancy and had no need to go to the doctor till I was about seven months. We had no insurance over there and I wasn't sure if I was going home to Ireland to have the baby. I think I was waiting for my dad to say, 'When are you coming home?'
Anyway the doctor decided for me, it was too late for me to fly, I would have to check into a hospital.
Now my Ma had already been sending me over bottles of liquid parafin. Does any body know what that is? Well neither did I, but my Ma said take it every day, it'll help the baby come out easier. 'Holy Mother, this didn't sound good. What did she mean?' My poor Mother. I can only imagine the worry she went through then over me. Her first child giving birth and she not being able to be there for me. To be honest, I wouldn't have wanted my Ma to see me in such pain.
Because the pain came. Oh dear Lord Mother of Jesus! Like a hot poker up your bum! Theres no really other good way to explain the excruciating pain that is Labour. Oh my God.
I had been in Labour all day on the 15th September 1989. To be fair, it was all very bearable till 12 o'clock that night, when the real pain came. It was so funny because my Ma's advice was, 'not to go into hospital till the third stage, they'll only be fiddling with you!' So I had been reading the book on the stages and the feckers got it wrong, because my first and second stage didn't happen. There was no mucus, there was no plug, there was no water, just Mother of Devine chronic burning pain. Eventually, at 5.30 am, I let Anto wake the others to bring us to the hospital.
Everybody was so excited, but I was just counting the minutes till I got to the hospital for that thing that took all pain away, 'The Epidural'. My other pal Teresa and her fella decided to come along too, so John drove and I was in front beside him and Anto and the other three were in the back. I didn't feel like pushing at all but I did feel an overwhelming pain in my groin. I told John to drive faster and he speeded through the early morning dawn to the Naples Community Hospital. It was 6am when we arrived (thankfully alive) and my friends somehow got me into a wheelchair and rushed me in. I still had no leakage so the first thing I asked for was the Epidural. Because in my reckoning, I was still in my first stage of labour!
The nurses took me away to have a 'Look' at me. I knew then what my Ma meant by fiddling with me. (Not for the faint hearted) At that the nurses got very excited, "You're ready to push! Aren't you great? Very quick you are! Fab!" As they wheeled me off to delivery. "But my waters didn't come, there's no mucus! Can I have the epidural please?" I whimpered in pain. "It's too late for that! You're baby will be here in a minute! Push!"
Well I checked the clock and it was 10 mins past 6 when I went into the delivery suite and at ten mins to 7, I was still pushing! (And make sure you have a good clear out, otherwise pooh comes! It's all very embarrassing!)
Then the mean old nasty Doctor came in to have a look, "Needs an episiotomy," I heard him say. "Whats an episiotomy?" I asked as I found out to my horror as the knife cut me open down below, (without anesthesia). "Aghh!" I screamed as I heard a gush of water come out, (There was my stage 1) with blood and mucus, (My stage 2) and a baby's cry. It was a boy! He looked perfectly formed and he had ten fingers and ten toes and he was the most beautiful thing that I would ever see in my life. A new baby.
A new life.
Jean xx
Sunday 13 September 2015
A Beautiful Sunday morning in Ratoath village Co. Meath!
As I drove over to Broadmeadows Stables early this morning to feed Yasmin's pony in preparation for her first SJI registered event today, it is a beautiful mild September day. The sun is up and there's not a breath of a wind and there's no rain! There is a buzz of excitement in the air. I couldn't help being happy at my surroundings.
We moved to Ratoath village 13 short years ago, along with many other Dubs who could afford a bigger house during 'The Celtic Tiger' boom in Ireland. Us snobby lot settled here with the rest of the fast moving career people of our time. Life was very busy. We spent a lot of time shopping for designer brands to keep up with the proverbial Jones's as one might say. We wined and dined in all the new and fancy places. We could afford to pay ghastly prices for food in Shanahan's on the Green! Oh those were the days! Those of us who narrowly escaped being raving alcoholics have lived to tell the tale of how the Irish people changed during that short wealthy period in our lives.
You see, us ordinary Irish people weren't used to having money. We are called working class and we lived week to week just paying our bills and providing for our families. Who could blame us for getting excited when extra cash graced our doors after a hard week's work?
What happened was and what most people chose to forget is that our country was graced with 'foreigners'.
They may have started with asylum seekers in the 1990's arriving on our shores but because the rest of the world saw how us lovely Irish people helped their neighbor, ordinary people from all over the world began to settle here. They wanted to raise their children in a country that wasn't biased nor racist.
These people needed accommodation and so began the need for more apartments and houses. Irish trade workers now had more money in their pockets so they were now buying new homes to live in. Climbing the ladder of a property owner away from renting or living in a parent's corporation dwelling.
Then we changed. As what mostly happens with us ordinary folk, we forgot who started us on the road to wealth, 'the foreigners' and we began to resent them and blame them for taking our jobs. Us resentful Irish during this wealthy time forgot our good manners and good raising and judged people and resented people. We stopped helping our neighbors.
When the crash hit in 2007, we all had a lot of egg on our faces. But I will say one thing about the Irish, when we are wrong, we admit it and we see the damage of our wrongs and we realize that life's value is not all about the money, it's about living life with the other human beings on our planet.
We began to have sympathy again at people's losses. Especially when we realized people were taking their own life in shame. That is so sad. If only they knew there is no shame in having no money.
So what did we all do with no money? We stopped eating out in fancy restuarants' and we all embraced ourselves in Sports. All sorts of sports. Us Irish have always loved our Gaelic football and hurling, a fab game and indeed soccer. But all of a sudden we had these once wealthy Rugby guys teaching our kids Rugby. We had extra Mams and Dads coaching the soccer kids and the GAA kids. And cycling began to become a very popular past time.
Ah yes, as I saw the local Centra packed with early morning sports Mam's and Dad's filling their coffee cups and water bottles, relishing their breakfasts rolls and heading off in comrade-ship this morning, I thought this is what it's all about. The yellow jacket guys were lining the Ratoath road to Ashbourne in plenty of time for the arrival of 3000 cyclists coming our way this morning.
Of course it's Sunday morning and I'm sorry Father Gerry, I know us Catholics should be in mass this morning, but don't you worry your head off, God is happily sitting in our kitchens witnessing the normal goings on of our families! Supporting us as we take our children off to their sports of passion. I can see him nodding happily as I find all the missing items of my roaring kids (and husband) this morning.
Gone is the traditional Sunday roast that my children only get in Granny's on a rare Sunday visit now, replaced by packed picnics. Because the mammies aren't staying home to cook any more. They want to see their kids in action too!
Sure isn't this what's all about?
Jean xxx
We moved to Ratoath village 13 short years ago, along with many other Dubs who could afford a bigger house during 'The Celtic Tiger' boom in Ireland. Us snobby lot settled here with the rest of the fast moving career people of our time. Life was very busy. We spent a lot of time shopping for designer brands to keep up with the proverbial Jones's as one might say. We wined and dined in all the new and fancy places. We could afford to pay ghastly prices for food in Shanahan's on the Green! Oh those were the days! Those of us who narrowly escaped being raving alcoholics have lived to tell the tale of how the Irish people changed during that short wealthy period in our lives.
You see, us ordinary Irish people weren't used to having money. We are called working class and we lived week to week just paying our bills and providing for our families. Who could blame us for getting excited when extra cash graced our doors after a hard week's work?
What happened was and what most people chose to forget is that our country was graced with 'foreigners'.
They may have started with asylum seekers in the 1990's arriving on our shores but because the rest of the world saw how us lovely Irish people helped their neighbor, ordinary people from all over the world began to settle here. They wanted to raise their children in a country that wasn't biased nor racist.
These people needed accommodation and so began the need for more apartments and houses. Irish trade workers now had more money in their pockets so they were now buying new homes to live in. Climbing the ladder of a property owner away from renting or living in a parent's corporation dwelling.
Then we changed. As what mostly happens with us ordinary folk, we forgot who started us on the road to wealth, 'the foreigners' and we began to resent them and blame them for taking our jobs. Us resentful Irish during this wealthy time forgot our good manners and good raising and judged people and resented people. We stopped helping our neighbors.
When the crash hit in 2007, we all had a lot of egg on our faces. But I will say one thing about the Irish, when we are wrong, we admit it and we see the damage of our wrongs and we realize that life's value is not all about the money, it's about living life with the other human beings on our planet.
We began to have sympathy again at people's losses. Especially when we realized people were taking their own life in shame. That is so sad. If only they knew there is no shame in having no money.
So what did we all do with no money? We stopped eating out in fancy restuarants' and we all embraced ourselves in Sports. All sorts of sports. Us Irish have always loved our Gaelic football and hurling, a fab game and indeed soccer. But all of a sudden we had these once wealthy Rugby guys teaching our kids Rugby. We had extra Mams and Dads coaching the soccer kids and the GAA kids. And cycling began to become a very popular past time.
Ah yes, as I saw the local Centra packed with early morning sports Mam's and Dad's filling their coffee cups and water bottles, relishing their breakfasts rolls and heading off in comrade-ship this morning, I thought this is what it's all about. The yellow jacket guys were lining the Ratoath road to Ashbourne in plenty of time for the arrival of 3000 cyclists coming our way this morning.
Of course it's Sunday morning and I'm sorry Father Gerry, I know us Catholics should be in mass this morning, but don't you worry your head off, God is happily sitting in our kitchens witnessing the normal goings on of our families! Supporting us as we take our children off to their sports of passion. I can see him nodding happily as I find all the missing items of my roaring kids (and husband) this morning.
Gone is the traditional Sunday roast that my children only get in Granny's on a rare Sunday visit now, replaced by packed picnics. Because the mammies aren't staying home to cook any more. They want to see their kids in action too!
Sure isn't this what's all about?
Jean xxx
Friday 11 September 2015
Monday 7 September 2015
Our kids with learning difficulties in Ireland
As a mother of 26 years now, I am astonished how many families are effected by children with learning difficulties. The most common one or the one we are more familiar with being Dyslexia. I also have the ongoing experience of sourcing information and assessments and help for my children throughout the years. I have three children, Anthony aged 26, Sarah, 20 and Yasmin 11 and both the girls have a severe Dyslexia while Anthony was border line. As he had a maths skill, the education system wasn't too worried about his literacy skills. Everybody in the education system loves a guy who can do maths!
From babies, you can tell the if your child is going to be a fast learner or a slow learner. Anthony walked by one year, talked clearly at 2 and a half years and could manage tasks by himself at a young age with just his parents observing close by.
Sarah was a baby for a long time, in fact, I remember my family saying I babied her too much, but that wasn't my recollection. She was a cute baby, a lovable toddler and of course I adored her, but Sarah didn't walk till 19 months and her speech was quite poor when she started school at age 4 years and 1 month, (the poor pet). She didn't seem to hear me nor her lovely teacher Miss Cummins from St Mary Help of Christians in Dublin and on the advise of her teacher, I had Sarah assessed by an education psychologist. Sarah didn't have a hearing problem but the assessment found that Sarah had a poor maturity and she also went on to being diagnosed with Dyslexia.
Sixteen years ago, I didn't know what poor maturity meant in educational terms, so Sarah continued on her social struggle in school coupled with her learning difficulty. Today I know that putting a child into the school system when they have the mind of a toddler can be detrimental to their personal growth. Although educationally, I got all the help I needed for Sarah and she came on really well with her education, I saw her social struggles throughout the school system and through the added challenges of puberty we eventually needed to go to a child psychiatrist. Not dismissing my own difficulties with depression effecting the family, I have also learned that forcing a child to perform in an environment that she is emotionally not able for leads them to have low self esteem and insecure problems, leading to mild or moderate depression.
When Yasmin came along, she was very similar to Sarah in not walking till 20 months, with the same speech difficulty, but this time around on Yasmin's early assessment at age 5, it was pointed out to me clearly that Yasmin had no comprehension of tasks or commands. This time I knew what this meant and that Yasmin was not ready for the school environment so I kept her in montessori school till age 6. I felt guilty for sending my other two kids to school at such an early age.
I'm much more in tune with Yasmin's learning difficulties, maybe because I was pointed in the right direction from Louise McDonagh head of the speech and language department in Dunboyne, to get the right assessments. Yasmin went on to be diagnosed with lots of difficulties Dr Sinead Hearty in Drogheda confirmed Emir Crowley's diagnosis of Dyspraxia (muscular difficulty). When the doctor casually flung the words 'Delayed mental development' over Yasmin's five year old head. Yasmin may not have known what that meant, but I did and I was scared for Yasmin. She went on to be diagnosed with Dyslexia (literacy difficulty) Dyscalculia (numbers difficulty) Severe comprehension disorder (didn't understand expression of language) Sensory difficulties (Everything hurt her, severe motion difficulty) and ADHD behaviour (impulsive and hyper active, can't sit still). But I took the bull by the horns and went on the slow thorough road of educating Yasmin. And it goes without saying that I am so proud of her work ethic as she tries so hard.
Yasmin is now 11 years of age and has started 4th class. Her class mates would be a year and half younger than her and Yasmin's ability level would be that of an eight year old.
Each new term takes Yasmin a bit of adjusting into. The new level of work is hard for her. And although Yasmin has permanent resource for 30 minutes each day, if the schools resources are stretched, our school system will discard the children who seem to be managing.
Being a parent of a beautiful child with learning difficulties had me awake this morning at 5am. As Yasmin received 2 hours of homework last night that should have been tackled by the resource room. Instead, the teacher is now sending it home to the parent, hoping that the parent can take the place of resource. I certainly don't mind helping my daughter with home work or in fact being her teacher at home, I enjoy being able to help, but Yasmin is still struggling with the same difficulties that got her resource in the first place and needs that professional help outside the home. It's all very well for me now, with just one child at home that I can dedicate my time to and I'm lucky enough to be a stay at home mum, but what about all the other parents with other young children and jobs too? I can only just imagine their struggles and stress levels each day as they try to get their child with learning difficulties to school. Because even if you know nothing about learning difficulties, if your child is struggling to go to school each morning, there's a reason. They either find learning difficult, social integration difficult or they are being bullied. Listen to your child's body language.
Jean xxx
From babies, you can tell the if your child is going to be a fast learner or a slow learner. Anthony walked by one year, talked clearly at 2 and a half years and could manage tasks by himself at a young age with just his parents observing close by.
Sarah was a baby for a long time, in fact, I remember my family saying I babied her too much, but that wasn't my recollection. She was a cute baby, a lovable toddler and of course I adored her, but Sarah didn't walk till 19 months and her speech was quite poor when she started school at age 4 years and 1 month, (the poor pet). She didn't seem to hear me nor her lovely teacher Miss Cummins from St Mary Help of Christians in Dublin and on the advise of her teacher, I had Sarah assessed by an education psychologist. Sarah didn't have a hearing problem but the assessment found that Sarah had a poor maturity and she also went on to being diagnosed with Dyslexia.
Sixteen years ago, I didn't know what poor maturity meant in educational terms, so Sarah continued on her social struggle in school coupled with her learning difficulty. Today I know that putting a child into the school system when they have the mind of a toddler can be detrimental to their personal growth. Although educationally, I got all the help I needed for Sarah and she came on really well with her education, I saw her social struggles throughout the school system and through the added challenges of puberty we eventually needed to go to a child psychiatrist. Not dismissing my own difficulties with depression effecting the family, I have also learned that forcing a child to perform in an environment that she is emotionally not able for leads them to have low self esteem and insecure problems, leading to mild or moderate depression.
When Yasmin came along, she was very similar to Sarah in not walking till 20 months, with the same speech difficulty, but this time around on Yasmin's early assessment at age 5, it was pointed out to me clearly that Yasmin had no comprehension of tasks or commands. This time I knew what this meant and that Yasmin was not ready for the school environment so I kept her in montessori school till age 6. I felt guilty for sending my other two kids to school at such an early age.
I'm much more in tune with Yasmin's learning difficulties, maybe because I was pointed in the right direction from Louise McDonagh head of the speech and language department in Dunboyne, to get the right assessments. Yasmin went on to be diagnosed with lots of difficulties Dr Sinead Hearty in Drogheda confirmed Emir Crowley's diagnosis of Dyspraxia (muscular difficulty). When the doctor casually flung the words 'Delayed mental development' over Yasmin's five year old head. Yasmin may not have known what that meant, but I did and I was scared for Yasmin. She went on to be diagnosed with Dyslexia (literacy difficulty) Dyscalculia (numbers difficulty) Severe comprehension disorder (didn't understand expression of language) Sensory difficulties (Everything hurt her, severe motion difficulty) and ADHD behaviour (impulsive and hyper active, can't sit still). But I took the bull by the horns and went on the slow thorough road of educating Yasmin. And it goes without saying that I am so proud of her work ethic as she tries so hard.
Yasmin is now 11 years of age and has started 4th class. Her class mates would be a year and half younger than her and Yasmin's ability level would be that of an eight year old.
Each new term takes Yasmin a bit of adjusting into. The new level of work is hard for her. And although Yasmin has permanent resource for 30 minutes each day, if the schools resources are stretched, our school system will discard the children who seem to be managing.
Being a parent of a beautiful child with learning difficulties had me awake this morning at 5am. As Yasmin received 2 hours of homework last night that should have been tackled by the resource room. Instead, the teacher is now sending it home to the parent, hoping that the parent can take the place of resource. I certainly don't mind helping my daughter with home work or in fact being her teacher at home, I enjoy being able to help, but Yasmin is still struggling with the same difficulties that got her resource in the first place and needs that professional help outside the home. It's all very well for me now, with just one child at home that I can dedicate my time to and I'm lucky enough to be a stay at home mum, but what about all the other parents with other young children and jobs too? I can only just imagine their struggles and stress levels each day as they try to get their child with learning difficulties to school. Because even if you know nothing about learning difficulties, if your child is struggling to go to school each morning, there's a reason. They either find learning difficult, social integration difficult or they are being bullied. Listen to your child's body language.
Jean xxx
Thursday 3 September 2015
The Family!
Ok , so we're not Italian, but we're very close. We get along just grand with The Pope and all the other Italians and they get along grand with us. We are the same type of proud people.
We are communicators. We like to talk. We talk a lot about our families.
This is my family.....
Anthony the first grandchild, the awaited first boy, has character, kindness and love in his bones,
Padraig is second and adorably cute, lovable and full of smiles,
Ryan comes in third full of macho delight,
Sarah arrives flighty and floaty at fourth,
Rebecca swims fifth as a beautiful swan,
Shauna's adorably smiley in sixth,
Pierce blends in all angles in seventh place,
Alex slides in well at eight full of grace,
Sean is a lad prancing ninth in full steam,
Finn in tenth place is a boyo with a dream,
Grace in at eleventh is a beauty without doubt,
Yasmin's an angel coming in at a dozen,
Elle at thirteenth, a smiler, a cousin.
And last of granny's children is Isabella at fourteen,
While their mother's and granny sit around the kitchen table full of chat and slagging.
This my family, I am proud to share,
We gather for any excuse, happy or scare,
They keep me busy,
They keep me broke,
But what else would I be doing?
Jean xx
We are communicators. We like to talk. We talk a lot about our families.
This is my family.....
Anthony the first grandchild, the awaited first boy, has character, kindness and love in his bones,
Padraig is second and adorably cute, lovable and full of smiles,
Ryan comes in third full of macho delight,
Sarah arrives flighty and floaty at fourth,
Rebecca swims fifth as a beautiful swan,
Shauna's adorably smiley in sixth,
Pierce blends in all angles in seventh place,
Alex slides in well at eight full of grace,
Sean is a lad prancing ninth in full steam,
Finn in tenth place is a boyo with a dream,
Grace in at eleventh is a beauty without doubt,
Yasmin's an angel coming in at a dozen,
Elle at thirteenth, a smiler, a cousin.
And last of granny's children is Isabella at fourteen,
While their mother's and granny sit around the kitchen table full of chat and slagging.
This my family, I am proud to share,
We gather for any excuse, happy or scare,
They keep me busy,
They keep me broke,
But what else would I be doing?
Jean xx
Doing Life in the Prison cell of your mind
You know when convicted criminals go into prison and it's called 'Life?
Have you ever really thought about what that word really means and the implications of the word Life? Well, Life is a strong word. It contains so much weight. It's the definition of living. Life for criminals means adapting to a new way of living. A life without freedom and a life without the freedom to make their own decisions and choices. Criminals who have killed and maimed will never experience their own desires again, as long as they are serving Life in prison. And they may well deserve this Life sentence for their crimes, but Life in prison is not easy. Contained in a small cell, it's not for the faint hearted and only few will see it through. Ironically, this is the same experience for people on the outside too.
When a baby comes into this world for the first time, she starts a new Life sentence. I say 'sentence' because she also has no choice in where she is born into and she will have to learn to adapt and grow within her chosen family. Thankfully, nearly all of the population cherishes these gifts from God and they aspire to do a great job in helping these little mites fit into our great planet Earth. But like the criminals in prison, a lot of human beings struggle with Life on the outside.
I myself, had struggled with Life for my first 45 years. I suffered with depression. Of course, there were reasons I had depression and yes it developed in my childhood years, so as a young adult, I realized I needed to go to some self help classes. As the years went on, I was unable to unscramble the clouds in my head and live happily in my 'Life sentence'. My behavior became angry and tearful, sad and resentful. And as my struggles with life was worsening, my behavior became erratic and my mind and body began to feel ill. Don't get me wrong, for all of my adult years, I was continuously trying so hard to become normal, to live my life peacefully and happily. I went to many good counsellors and when my last child Yasmin was born eleven years ago, I had to go on antidepressants.
Life of course has many challenges for people and it may seem that some get too much to bear, as in a prison cell.
When my child was diagnosed with lots of difficulties among other stresses that were going on in my life at the time, I felt my Life was too difficult. I felt I was useless and I felt I was a failure. I completely hated myself. I didn't want to leave my children, in fact, I was terrified of leaving and abandoning them at all. And even though I never planned a suicide, I found myself writing two letters. One to my Solicitor stating my wishes for my children and one to my youngest child's God parent also stating my wishes for her God child. I also left a note for my husband and kids in my diary which I printed in my book 'My Beautiful flower'.
I never went through any sequence of suicide in my head. I would never consciously hurt my Mother or any of my family by taking my own life. But I was totally afraid of what my mind was capable of doing because it was in such mental pain.
Then something happened. I noticed how much pain Yasmin was in as I performed normal daily routines like teeth and face washing, as she had severe sensory difficulties. She would scream in agony but trusted me to continue. It was the same in every little thing she did, like learning, playing and social activities. She wanted to be the same as her friends, so she trudged on. I looked at this little five year old coping with physical and brain challenges. She was learning. No matter how painful a task was or no matter how hard it was, she continued on. I realized there and then that she was sent to me for a reason. To show me how it's done. I truly believe that God sent me Yasmin as a gift, to help me.
I then began to help myself. I had to figure myself out and unscramble the clouds in my brain.
I was able to discover how to live in my Life and thankfully, I am still here.
Sadly, there are thousands of people around the world everyday ending their pain of Life. I don't think there's the right qualifications just yet to treat people in this pain. It's missed so easily at the moment in the medical practice. I know myself that I wouldn't go to see the doctor when I was really bad, I didn't want anyone to see me in that state. So, I took someone else's anti depressants to help me for a couple of weeks before I went to the Doctor.
There's still an enormous amount of embarrassment and shame attached to depression. Families are left blaming themselves when their loved one takes their own life. But if you realize that the person is suffering with a type of cancer of the brain, you might realize how serious depression is. Remember, there is also a huge chemical imbalance in the brain that eats away at you, just like a cancer. And doctors may see a patient looking physically well and completely misdiagnose it. People suffering this severe type of depression are just in a state of severe mental pain and they are full of self hatred and shame for their misconceived weakness. If they could live their Life in their prison cell of their mind and cause you no anguish, they would do so for sure.
But a Life sentence of mental pain and torture is worse than any Life behind bars.
Jean xx
Have you ever really thought about what that word really means and the implications of the word Life? Well, Life is a strong word. It contains so much weight. It's the definition of living. Life for criminals means adapting to a new way of living. A life without freedom and a life without the freedom to make their own decisions and choices. Criminals who have killed and maimed will never experience their own desires again, as long as they are serving Life in prison. And they may well deserve this Life sentence for their crimes, but Life in prison is not easy. Contained in a small cell, it's not for the faint hearted and only few will see it through. Ironically, this is the same experience for people on the outside too.
When a baby comes into this world for the first time, she starts a new Life sentence. I say 'sentence' because she also has no choice in where she is born into and she will have to learn to adapt and grow within her chosen family. Thankfully, nearly all of the population cherishes these gifts from God and they aspire to do a great job in helping these little mites fit into our great planet Earth. But like the criminals in prison, a lot of human beings struggle with Life on the outside.
I myself, had struggled with Life for my first 45 years. I suffered with depression. Of course, there were reasons I had depression and yes it developed in my childhood years, so as a young adult, I realized I needed to go to some self help classes. As the years went on, I was unable to unscramble the clouds in my head and live happily in my 'Life sentence'. My behavior became angry and tearful, sad and resentful. And as my struggles with life was worsening, my behavior became erratic and my mind and body began to feel ill. Don't get me wrong, for all of my adult years, I was continuously trying so hard to become normal, to live my life peacefully and happily. I went to many good counsellors and when my last child Yasmin was born eleven years ago, I had to go on antidepressants.
Life of course has many challenges for people and it may seem that some get too much to bear, as in a prison cell.
When my child was diagnosed with lots of difficulties among other stresses that were going on in my life at the time, I felt my Life was too difficult. I felt I was useless and I felt I was a failure. I completely hated myself. I didn't want to leave my children, in fact, I was terrified of leaving and abandoning them at all. And even though I never planned a suicide, I found myself writing two letters. One to my Solicitor stating my wishes for my children and one to my youngest child's God parent also stating my wishes for her God child. I also left a note for my husband and kids in my diary which I printed in my book 'My Beautiful flower'.
I never went through any sequence of suicide in my head. I would never consciously hurt my Mother or any of my family by taking my own life. But I was totally afraid of what my mind was capable of doing because it was in such mental pain.
Then something happened. I noticed how much pain Yasmin was in as I performed normal daily routines like teeth and face washing, as she had severe sensory difficulties. She would scream in agony but trusted me to continue. It was the same in every little thing she did, like learning, playing and social activities. She wanted to be the same as her friends, so she trudged on. I looked at this little five year old coping with physical and brain challenges. She was learning. No matter how painful a task was or no matter how hard it was, she continued on. I realized there and then that she was sent to me for a reason. To show me how it's done. I truly believe that God sent me Yasmin as a gift, to help me.
I then began to help myself. I had to figure myself out and unscramble the clouds in my brain.
I was able to discover how to live in my Life and thankfully, I am still here.
Sadly, there are thousands of people around the world everyday ending their pain of Life. I don't think there's the right qualifications just yet to treat people in this pain. It's missed so easily at the moment in the medical practice. I know myself that I wouldn't go to see the doctor when I was really bad, I didn't want anyone to see me in that state. So, I took someone else's anti depressants to help me for a couple of weeks before I went to the Doctor.
There's still an enormous amount of embarrassment and shame attached to depression. Families are left blaming themselves when their loved one takes their own life. But if you realize that the person is suffering with a type of cancer of the brain, you might realize how serious depression is. Remember, there is also a huge chemical imbalance in the brain that eats away at you, just like a cancer. And doctors may see a patient looking physically well and completely misdiagnose it. People suffering this severe type of depression are just in a state of severe mental pain and they are full of self hatred and shame for their misconceived weakness. If they could live their Life in their prison cell of their mind and cause you no anguish, they would do so for sure.
But a Life sentence of mental pain and torture is worse than any Life behind bars.
Jean xx
Thursday 27 August 2015
Flushes and Sweats!
We have all heard stories of horrific ways that women are effected while going through 'The Change'. Women literally become monsters while going through the hormonal changes that happen while her body's reproductive system is shutting down. Not to mention, the changing body shape, the wrinkles and the dried up vagina! I certainly wasn't looking forward to it at all and put it to the back of my mind when at age 38 my last child was born.
I remember having night sweats for two or three years after Yasmin's birth. I had heard about night sweats before and their being related to the peri menopause. I assumed that's what was now happening to me. I knew mine were night sweats because I would wake up every night soaking wet, especially around the neck area. I would have to change the sheets each morning. I assumed then that night sweats were the same thing as hot flushes, just with a different name.
When the sweats disappeared, everything seemed to go back to normal and I assumed my peri menopause had paused! (Take into account, my severe depression came on also after having my last child. I had seemed to manage previous post natal depressions from my other children. This one was more extreme. Was the clash of the menopause and my post natal depression together the cause of my very erratic behavior during that time? I wrote my first book 'My Beautiful Flower' three years ago to share my experiences of depression and my struggles to be a mother, available on amazon since March 2015. I have been mentally well most of this year and can feel myself having longer periods of wellness.)
My periods then disappeared when I was 46 years and as each month passed with no sign of them, I was sure I was now in 'The Change.'
Friends had told me that when your period is gone for two years altogether, you've indeed gone through it. However my 'friends' came back after a year for two months and now they've gone again which I'm only too happy about, needless to say!
So now I'm 48 years and I'm having 'Hot Flushes'. They started just a couple of weeks ago. I know they're hot flushes and not sweats because it's like someone has turned on the oven in me. It can happen anytime, day or night and I can feel myself going hot and red all over. Not one to overly sweat, I am not soaking wet, but I can feel beads of sweat coming out over my lip and forehead.
Hot flushes can be embarrassing because people only see you going red and when you're aware of that, you just go redder!
It's funny, because when I was in puberty, I used to go red all of the time, over any little thing. It was the shame of my youth. No wonder I was accused of things, I always looked guilty with a big red face all of the time! I remember when I was doing my trade in a barber shop. I must've been about seventeen at the time. I had finished my ladies hairdressing trade and thought it would be great to have a barbering trade also. I didn't stop to think what it would be like to work in an all men environment. In 1983, they had just started advertising controversial adds on the radio, like the necessity of sanitary pads! I mean, who needs to advertise sanitary pads on anywhere for God's sake? Half our population need them!
But oh my God, when the advertisement came on, it lasted about three whole minutes. Someone was very thorough! Me and every lad in the shop knew everything we needed to know about periods, pads and tampons. I was mortified. The barber shop would be quiet enough with just hair cutting going on, no distractions of a hairdryer at all. My face went beetroot red. I had to leave the room and go to the bathroom!
And each time after that when the ad came on, probably at least five times a day, I had to run out, for fear of anyone noticing my beetroot face! Of course they all did, but there was nothing I could do. I was so embarrassed! The shop would be packed with the whole population of nineteen year old boys!
Thankfully now at my age, there is little that would embarrass me, unless of course I make a fool of myself!
So, I think I'm doing ok with 'The Change'. I think I'm nearly through it. It's only been a short eleven years! My mental health is better, my relationships are better with my children, my husband, my family and friends. Is it a coincidence that while I was suffering depression I was also going through 'The Change'?
Was I that Monster woman?
Oh My God! Yes I was!
Jean xxx
I remember having night sweats for two or three years after Yasmin's birth. I had heard about night sweats before and their being related to the peri menopause. I assumed that's what was now happening to me. I knew mine were night sweats because I would wake up every night soaking wet, especially around the neck area. I would have to change the sheets each morning. I assumed then that night sweats were the same thing as hot flushes, just with a different name.
When the sweats disappeared, everything seemed to go back to normal and I assumed my peri menopause had paused! (Take into account, my severe depression came on also after having my last child. I had seemed to manage previous post natal depressions from my other children. This one was more extreme. Was the clash of the menopause and my post natal depression together the cause of my very erratic behavior during that time? I wrote my first book 'My Beautiful Flower' three years ago to share my experiences of depression and my struggles to be a mother, available on amazon since March 2015. I have been mentally well most of this year and can feel myself having longer periods of wellness.)
My periods then disappeared when I was 46 years and as each month passed with no sign of them, I was sure I was now in 'The Change.'
Friends had told me that when your period is gone for two years altogether, you've indeed gone through it. However my 'friends' came back after a year for two months and now they've gone again which I'm only too happy about, needless to say!
So now I'm 48 years and I'm having 'Hot Flushes'. They started just a couple of weeks ago. I know they're hot flushes and not sweats because it's like someone has turned on the oven in me. It can happen anytime, day or night and I can feel myself going hot and red all over. Not one to overly sweat, I am not soaking wet, but I can feel beads of sweat coming out over my lip and forehead.
Hot flushes can be embarrassing because people only see you going red and when you're aware of that, you just go redder!
It's funny, because when I was in puberty, I used to go red all of the time, over any little thing. It was the shame of my youth. No wonder I was accused of things, I always looked guilty with a big red face all of the time! I remember when I was doing my trade in a barber shop. I must've been about seventeen at the time. I had finished my ladies hairdressing trade and thought it would be great to have a barbering trade also. I didn't stop to think what it would be like to work in an all men environment. In 1983, they had just started advertising controversial adds on the radio, like the necessity of sanitary pads! I mean, who needs to advertise sanitary pads on anywhere for God's sake? Half our population need them!
But oh my God, when the advertisement came on, it lasted about three whole minutes. Someone was very thorough! Me and every lad in the shop knew everything we needed to know about periods, pads and tampons. I was mortified. The barber shop would be quiet enough with just hair cutting going on, no distractions of a hairdryer at all. My face went beetroot red. I had to leave the room and go to the bathroom!
And each time after that when the ad came on, probably at least five times a day, I had to run out, for fear of anyone noticing my beetroot face! Of course they all did, but there was nothing I could do. I was so embarrassed! The shop would be packed with the whole population of nineteen year old boys!
Thankfully now at my age, there is little that would embarrass me, unless of course I make a fool of myself!
So, I think I'm doing ok with 'The Change'. I think I'm nearly through it. It's only been a short eleven years! My mental health is better, my relationships are better with my children, my husband, my family and friends. Is it a coincidence that while I was suffering depression I was also going through 'The Change'?
Was I that Monster woman?
Oh My God! Yes I was!
Jean xxx
Tuesday 25 August 2015
And all because of a dress.....
What goes on inside a woman's mind? I'll never be sure, even though I am a woman! We are complicated, that's for sure. We're sensitive. We take things personally. We are competitive with other women. We don't want another woman having more than us; More beauty, more money, more boyfriends. We are defensive of ourselves. If it seems a woman is having it all, we are jealous of them. We find excuses to fall out with them.
I hear stories day in and day out about women best friends falling out with each other. I've even experienced it myself as I shared in a previous blog. You have to wonder what happens to these women? They have been best friends for life! You know the type, they tell each other everything, they laugh at the same things, they love each other's company and they go everywhere together. But when the big fallout happens, that love soon turns to hate.
I suppose us women drive each other crazy at times, especially if we spend all of our free time with them. We're sure to irritate each other. I have also experienced times in the past, when other women friends had irritated me and I would judge them, blame them for the irritation. Something about them bugged me. I would take no responsibility at all for my own selfish behavior, maybe wanting everything my own way?
I also think our expectations of our woman friends are too high. We depend on them too much. Somehow, we forget that they are only human and they make mistakes in friendships just like us.
I also don't think that we are truly honest with them either and that's a big problem. We sometimes go along with things that might not suit us. If we seem to be doing everything that the other woman friend wants to do, it will inevitably cause trouble, at the very least, unhappiness in the friendship.
When our women friends behave in a way that you may think is stupid or out of line and you criticize them for it, you are not allowing for that person to be who she is. You start to judge her. You compare her to you and all of a sudden you think your way might be better than hers and the little annoying things she does, begin to develop into huge things that really bother you about her. You of course begin to hold resentment towards her and don't speak to her about it. After all, how can you say anything to her? It's not really any of your business how she behaves in life, until one day, something totally irrelevant happens that you can say something about and all hell breaks loose.
She chooses the same color dress as you for an important occasion! That's all it takes. It doesn't matter if the dress is completely different. It doesn't matter if you're prettier, smarter, richer than your friend. You've had it! You don't care if that color suits your friend better than the other colors. You forget all of the fun times and memories that you have shared together and you go in for the kill. You lose your head completely and you throw in how hurt YOU feel. (Notice you don't care how she feels?) You'll never be able to forgive her so you dump your friendship. You're done with her. You just can't take anymore of her.
Your devastated girlfriend has no idea what's happening.
'Is this all because of a dress?' She wonders sadly.
How many other people are effected by this same dress? The relevant families, siblings and other long time friends are all now taking sides and avoiding each other.
The rift grows too far apart to repair.
So are we women dishonest? Shallow?
We need to search deep inside our minds to work these issues out. We really need to think the issue through and own our stuff, acknowledge if we are being unreasonable. I think we all know when we are being unreasonable and stubborn and if we don't, we need to concentrate hard. If we accept our own responsibility for our own dishonesty in the friendship, we'll be able to accept that a lot of the issues that bothered us about our female friends were caused by ourselves. Because while we were laughing and giggling and playing around, we didn't express our real self to our friends. We women are always aiming for our own perfection. We don't express that we are weak and needy at times.
So, we may feel we've been hard done by, because we feel we deserve more from our friend. After all, aren't we doing stuff for her that we don't want too?
Does she know this? Is she a mind reader?
Don't dump her, talk to her!
Jean xxx
I hear stories day in and day out about women best friends falling out with each other. I've even experienced it myself as I shared in a previous blog. You have to wonder what happens to these women? They have been best friends for life! You know the type, they tell each other everything, they laugh at the same things, they love each other's company and they go everywhere together. But when the big fallout happens, that love soon turns to hate.
I suppose us women drive each other crazy at times, especially if we spend all of our free time with them. We're sure to irritate each other. I have also experienced times in the past, when other women friends had irritated me and I would judge them, blame them for the irritation. Something about them bugged me. I would take no responsibility at all for my own selfish behavior, maybe wanting everything my own way?
I also think our expectations of our woman friends are too high. We depend on them too much. Somehow, we forget that they are only human and they make mistakes in friendships just like us.
I also don't think that we are truly honest with them either and that's a big problem. We sometimes go along with things that might not suit us. If we seem to be doing everything that the other woman friend wants to do, it will inevitably cause trouble, at the very least, unhappiness in the friendship.
When our women friends behave in a way that you may think is stupid or out of line and you criticize them for it, you are not allowing for that person to be who she is. You start to judge her. You compare her to you and all of a sudden you think your way might be better than hers and the little annoying things she does, begin to develop into huge things that really bother you about her. You of course begin to hold resentment towards her and don't speak to her about it. After all, how can you say anything to her? It's not really any of your business how she behaves in life, until one day, something totally irrelevant happens that you can say something about and all hell breaks loose.
She chooses the same color dress as you for an important occasion! That's all it takes. It doesn't matter if the dress is completely different. It doesn't matter if you're prettier, smarter, richer than your friend. You've had it! You don't care if that color suits your friend better than the other colors. You forget all of the fun times and memories that you have shared together and you go in for the kill. You lose your head completely and you throw in how hurt YOU feel. (Notice you don't care how she feels?) You'll never be able to forgive her so you dump your friendship. You're done with her. You just can't take anymore of her.
Your devastated girlfriend has no idea what's happening.
'Is this all because of a dress?' She wonders sadly.
How many other people are effected by this same dress? The relevant families, siblings and other long time friends are all now taking sides and avoiding each other.
The rift grows too far apart to repair.
So are we women dishonest? Shallow?
We need to search deep inside our minds to work these issues out. We really need to think the issue through and own our stuff, acknowledge if we are being unreasonable. I think we all know when we are being unreasonable and stubborn and if we don't, we need to concentrate hard. If we accept our own responsibility for our own dishonesty in the friendship, we'll be able to accept that a lot of the issues that bothered us about our female friends were caused by ourselves. Because while we were laughing and giggling and playing around, we didn't express our real self to our friends. We women are always aiming for our own perfection. We don't express that we are weak and needy at times.
So, we may feel we've been hard done by, because we feel we deserve more from our friend. After all, aren't we doing stuff for her that we don't want too?
Does she know this? Is she a mind reader?
Don't dump her, talk to her!
Jean xxx
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