some things....

some things are better left to the professionals. take ect, for instance.

wait. let me back up a bit.

you may recall my fear of being chased by cows. let's say it's more a fear of being chased, tripped, and squashed by cows. anyhow.

i wanted to borrow frances' bicycle last monday, and the shortest route is across the field. i hopped the fence and was half way across the grass when i spotted the cows, all clumped together by the fence at the far end of the field. by clumped together of course i mean they had put their heads together and were plotting the best way to chase me and then sit on me.

i decided my best option was to take a detour along top end of the field as this would put me right next to my sister's kitchen door. only thing between me and the kitchen door? an electrified cow fence.

so picture it. me, face-down in the grass, trying to wiggle under the fence. now the grass turned out to be wetter than it looked so i - wait for it - started to move away from the grass.

that's when the cow fence met my ass. zap! zap, zap, zap!

i know it's only a small voltage, but i have to tell you it hurt like a mo*therf*cker. 5 hours later my teeth were still ringing.

fast forward to thursday last week, where you'd find me in a full-scale meltdown, feeling so bad that to keep myself safe i had to go back to the psych ward for a little help. for the past 72 hours i've had the same conversation with a nurse, three doctors, and my therapist. they all wanted to know: "did anything out of the ordinary happen over the course of the week to trigger you?"

i honestly couldn't think of a thing. but then i remembered the incident with the electrified fence.

and that's when i decided: some procedures are best left to the professionals.

oh yeah, and next time i'm taking the road.

mirror, mirror, clickety-clack

For a month now I've being talking out loud to myself when I drive. My mantra? "Mirror, mirror, signal. Mirror, mirror, signal." This is so that I don't repeat the mistakes I made on my last driving test. Tomorrow is the test (woo hoo!!!) and all I need to do now is KEEP QUIET! I cannot be freaking out the examiner by talking to myself throughout the test.

I have some anxiety about the test -- not the actual driving bit -- but the possible meltdown if I flunk again. The best I could come up with in therapy was that in failing last time it felt like *I* was being graded -- that on the score sheet that the examiner used was an extra line that read "Catherine Jones, Life" and he'd crossed off every box with the word FAILED.

Now, I've looked over every corner of the sheet and I can reassure you that it doesn't have a line for the driving examiner to grade me as to whether I'm a worthwhile human being or not. If I pass I'm going into town to celebrate at the Tuesday meeting of the Cork Camera club. If I flunk, I'm going into town to meet some new people, at the Cork Camera club. Before that I should have just enough time for a walk and a quick bite to eat. Either way, it should be okay.

I've been doing quite a bit of writing lately, inspired by the work of Mary Ellen Copeland. If you've ever suffered depression or some other mental illness I bet you'll like her tools. She's strong on hope, support, and personal responsibility on the path to wellness. She's also big on lists. Me, I love lists. I really, really love lists.

1. Driving test
2. Work
3. Lunch and a walk
4. Work
5. Dinner and a walk
6. Cork Camera club
7. Take meds
8. Bed


If I stick to the list, I'm not gonna go wrong.

Operation Moonbeam, Ireland

Another session of the relaxation class today. Very operation moonbeam, and very useful. We had to picture a calm, white-sand beach. I of course pictured Coney Island but what can a gal do?

The class takes place at St. Finbarr's hospital in their mental health outpatient program. I brought the holga along to take some photos around the grounds of the hospital, because, frankly, if you weren't suicidal when you arrived 10 minutes at this place will take you there. I wanted to capture some of the decrepit ambience on film.

St. Finbarr's is a compound of various buildings, all falling to pieces and seemingly half-occupied. There's a giant stone fence around the grounds, and nowhere near enough parking so visitors and staff park on any piece of grass they can find, and there's not much grass! Crows float about waiting to pounce, calling out to each other. When you arrive the first thing you see is the trunk of a big, old tree surrounded by wire fencing. I don't know how long ago the tree fell down, but it's been tightly pruned and only the trunk remains. But still it's fenced. There's not one, but two old and peeling statues of the Virgin Mary... there might be more as I haven't explored it all yet.

So, it must be all this moonbeam-ness happening but everyone is smiling at me today. Even guy driving the tractor through the middle of town waved and smiled. Yay.