living and dying in Ireland.
Posted in : Uncategorised on by : Brendan Walsh Comments:
Sorry about the morbid title and indeed the content, beware, this is not nice. Anyone of a particular age who have lived their life in Ireland will identify at least some of my experience.For the most part this will apply only to a category I will call the lower middle class down.(although no body really escaped)
Our parents did the best they could,and that is as far as I can understand the effects of ignorance.I mean this remark ,because I am writing as a victim, with some enlightenment.For those who cannot give me the credit to be as I am,and allow me to shine a light on as to exactly what it is, a child of ignorance , can kindly ‘go f..k them selves’.
Many papers, from all sorts of opinions,have been written about this subject,and many are good and contribute to change.As yet far few have really got to the core of the problem namely what it is like having walked the walk.Consequences such as social anxiety,alcoholism,drug addiction,depression,and mental health in general is but a few which can be directly attributed to social conditions.Tony Blair the former British M.P. famously framed the phase with regards the answer to the problems,”education,education ,education.”. Well this citizen would suggest in starting the program of recovering with understanding of the essence of Ignorance,Ignorance,Ignorance.
I was born with sin and in that”state of grace” was a guaranteed by the state and church of control .I hated sin and in turn I hated myself and I mean my body.I was trapped in this dirty body.A body that tried and tried to me good ,with very little success,been good was without sin and that was not possible as the dominant theology at the time (and is still in place today) would not allow.This was a small piece ,although an important part of a mind that cried and screamed to escape in to the green clean sunshine.
The dominant people who ran this country came from and framed the laws that we all have to live by know nothing about what it is to be poor .I don’t mean simply poor ,no I mean poor in spirit, poor in the mental permission to explore our capabilities and achieve our capacity.And worst poor in as to know that anything like that exists.The poor are trapped in poverty.
What do we say to the people that have contributed to this ‘mental genocide’ what can we do for the endless generations that have lived suffered and died prematurely.They buried thousands of babies,did they contributed to the deaths ?,well maybe yes, certainly part of the problem.buried with out a grave to mark a place and honor the life.The truth is they didn’t give a ‘rats tail’ at to the child or the remains.
Those evil people were getting permission from a barbaric dark age theology.When the child was born in sin and not christened ‘it’ would spend eternity in hell.This is a power given to men(by men) to wash the soul clean and free the child from sin.So the feeling of uncleanliness or unworthiness has a long legacy almost exclusivity for the poor.To finish this chapter ,many of the babies were sold to wealthy family’s,In America.
I didn’t mean to go into this ongoing horror of the history of Ireland.The season that I was reluctant to say anything on the subject,not that is not worth writing about but that it a bit like that it had happened in the dim and distant past,and in so the capacity to get in touch with the awfulness that accrued. Meaning that it is not pertinent to day,and somehow it happened somewhere else. The Catholic church is a well established escapology.
This is but a flavor off the fury this is summering in me for retribution from the sinners that formed me or deformed me, and expected me to accept and forgive the people that destroyed me and touched me with most of the mental illness there is.Yes some survive and yes some of us are successful.For most the madness is traveling with them in packets of lonely desperation.For many spent their whole lives in mental institutions and most of that generations are dead.My fury keeps me sane .I escaped ,I live a life of a free man I can feel the fresh air on my face I can hear the birds sing and I can look in another person face and state ,I am. I demand respect,and I generally get respect.In a very subtle way people look at me and see etched on my face the underground history of Ireland.
I have long lost the faith in god and the security of the church in childhood.I am on a journey today and it has taken me to places in my life that has prompt me to want to live. For that I can thank a lot of people I met on my journey.Thank you for reading this and if you feel like replying help yourself,we have the right to speak.I can assure you that I will not judge you….