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Oct 27

The post in which K8 becomes a martyr

Posted on Sunday, October 27, 2013 in Family, Jobs, Philosophy, Rantings

If there’s anything I’ve learned from this EMT course so far, it’s to keep information short and sweet.

This in itself is difficult, because every situation is different and holds its own compromises.

So, my situation is thus: I have my eldest who has global development delay. My next is nine years old and is getting a good grasp on life, fair play to her, she’s goth and I take that as a compliment (now is the good time to get it out of her system?). My youngest has playschool sussed and is ready for life to come. My husband has his own special needs, his spine is compromised so he can’t work, he suffers pain and all of those emotional difficulties that go with that. I have my own ways of dealing with this, alcohol as funny as it is in this society, being one.


We cannot work, he or me.

We sap from the community and take our fair share of Irish taxes because we live in social housing and cannot get out of the rut. We have no money yet we are to raise a respectable family right? Poor us, right? We have an excuse to raise hopeless anti-social luddites, don’t we?


We are not poor.

We have a roof, and a car (even if we can’t afford car tax… shhhhh don’t tell anyone!), and vegetables and meat and cereal.

We are LUCKY.

I’ve been unsure of the right path to take thus far. Yes, it’s very easy to slump into the regime of daytime TV. I’ve been there, I know every episode of ‘Friends’ by heart. It killed me. That was when I was too sober.

Then I decided to take life by the horns and to defy anything that kept me under the blankets.

I joined a First Aid organisation. I’m now its chief fundraiser and am employed to raise at least €30,000 within the next two years to sort a new ambulance. I worked at kiddo’s local school and helped them raise €22,000 over the last two years. I’ve just become secretary for an organisation that will care for cardiac compromise in my neighbourhood and I’m in the middle of a really intensive course that might even get me a job if I’m optimistic enough.

I’m working damn hard with this state, the same state that cut all my earnings, FOR FREE. I just want you to know that. Yes I get free money, but I work hard to pay it off voluntarily. I fail left, right and centre with the people I love. I forget things. I leave things behind and hope to eventually catch up to them but in the meantime I feel guilty and sad. Very very sad.

Why, when other people are so financially stable, won’t people help out with organisations that are struggling? Why are people so eager to slag off the government and yet give nothing by return just because they feel secure by the fact that they’re paying their taxes? Why don’t they feel very very sad like me?

Who are the people that are holding this state together? What are the Irish people doing to uphold their part? Are they just a bitchy alcoholic entity with a random funny opinion with the urge to do nothing but rant via bullshit internet, or have they the balls to take part in the real course of events that will make this country somewhere worthwhile to live in?

I am a random person who loves everyone.  But it feels like too much to handle because one person alone cannot do this all alone or they will be overcome and die. So, I anaesthetize with alcohol because it is less lonely. But!

I still get this shit done.

Let ye who are without sin cast the first stone. Tell me I’m wrong.

Go on, I dare you.



Bring on the comments

  1. Brianf says:

    Yea K8!
    I can completely relate. I too live by the state’s beneficiance. I receive a monthly income from the Social Security Administration as well as the fact that my apartment is subsidized by the Department of Housing and Urban Development and Social Security helps pay a part of my health insurance.
    I fight everyday with wanting to just lay about under the blankets. I spent my life paying into the Social Security system so in a way I feel I’m entitled to this but I feel like a leech on the system. I refuse to fall into the daytime TV rut. I don’t turn the vidiot box on until 5pm when the local news comes on. I’ve spent the day vegging out in front of it so I decided to stop.
    You’ve got this whole voluntering thing sussed. I am just getting started. I have made application to the county jail to run AA meetings on monday evenings. AA has a need for men on Monday evenings so I applied.
    Because we live off of tax money is the best reason to give back. I applaud you for all you do. As I said earlier… Yea K8!

  2. Ginger Mick says:

    Oh K8! I am not wihout sin,and I have no stones handy. It surely seems that you might have loaded yourself with too many burdens. Admirable as it is, do you not think that all the volunteer work could be a bit too much. I would see the studies for the course being the main priority (after the family of course!). A job. More dosh! maybe not happiness but affordable misery.

    I wish there was some way for you to make some money from your writing. You have the magic ability to paint such vivid pictures with words! So jealous, I am.

    ‘Anaesthetize with alcohol’ Oh my dear talented, beautiful girl! I do not preach, BUT my late beloved mother took this route when things (mainly my father) became too much for her. Occasional anaesthetic unfortunately turned into full time roaring alcoholism, and it was rather unpleasant growing up with an embarrassing drunk for a mother! And,defying reason, I turned into one myself. But that’s another story, perhaps best left untold.

    As usual Dear K8, I have no answers. Only feelings!

  3. Kirk M says:

    Really late reply:

    I took care of my parents through home hospice (death, to put it simply), both at the same time, with my rather psychotic sister who had a physically violent, alcoholic, felon husband. I lost my second marriage for my trouble and hit rock bottom for two years–alcohol and drugs were not involved. They don’t have to be. My own health failed right after I managed to climb out of the well due to physical problems and injuries that occurred during my time in the service and having no health care for 5 years.

    Fast forward to present day and I’m rated 100% disabled (all physical, all internal) by the US Veterans Administration and I have to watch my wife do the majority of the physical work around the house. I sneak in what I can but if she catches me doing so, I catch hell. Not easy for a man who’s worked hard all his life.

    So what’s the point? No point at all except I understand the situation overall due to experience with taking care of two ailing people, dealing with a hostile environment, losing 3 people I loved and then dealing with my own failing health. So what did I learn?

    Life is still good, everything I’ve done was worth it and going with the flow and keeping the faith are two things that were absolutely necessary to my survival until things changed.

    So stones to throw? Lady, I not only have no stones but I have a really nice lawn where the stone pile once was (or at least it’s green and mowed). It could have been my own grave at one time but that time has passed.

    Watch that alcohol though. It can go from a being a friend to a monkey on your back real quick.

    Things always change, K8. Always.

  4. Kirk M says:

    Note to my last comment:

    When I say “keeping the faith” that does not have any religious implications whatsoever. The best faith to have, in my experience, is faith in yourself.

  5. K8 says:

    Really late reply here too!!

    Thanks to you my lovely men for these kind and seriously appreciated honest comments. I like that you worry even though we’ve never even met, in fact it feels like you know me better than I know myself.

    Things have gotten quite pear-shaped of late, so I’ve sought help from lots of angles and have decided to drink a very strong cup of Man-the-fuck-up. I worked in an A&E department last week for a shift and found out that there are many ways to skin a dead cat so things will indeed change.

    Thanks lads, for always being here with me.

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