In my opinion, putting sanctions on countries just provokes people. It's like a donkey. If you push the donkey he will dig his heels in and you will not be able to budge him. But if you are nice to the donkey, you can lead him with a silken thread.
Escape Velocity Extended
Written by Mr Damien Leech
Copyright Damien Leech
Chapters:
9/11
My Childhood
College
Trying to work
Mental Illness
Solomon Rushdie Part Dux
A Happy Ending?
Escape Velocity
Copyright Damien Leech
Chapter 1.
9/11
This book is dedicated to Eugene Maloney, a journalist and my cousin, who was murdered in Dublin in the early hours of 25th June 2012. I love you Eugene. I’ll have a glass of whiskey with you in heaven.
On September 11th 2001 terrorists flew planes full of people into The Twin Towers. 3000 people died. At the turn of the millenium an Italian girl had an orgy behind my back after I had left her out to Dublin airport. The United States and I both had nervous breakdowns. We are both suffering from “Othello Syndrome”.
“Escape Velocity is the speed a rocket needs to achieve to escape The Earth’s atmosphere.”
I was trapped in a financial jail and I needed to get out of it. Here’s my story:
I got up from my desk that Friday evening in Dublin. 'Asshole', I muttered under my breath as I left the room, closing the large door behind me. This insult was directed at Margaret, my boss, who had told me ten minutes previously down in the meeting room, that my contract with the Magazine had been terminated. I walked slowly down the Georgian stairs towards the front door of the office and tried to smile at the warm-hearted receptionist as I passed her desk on the way out. She seemed excited like everyone else in the building. It was Friday evening afterall, the week's work done, money in the bank, and the night's celebrations about to begin. As I came out into the street, the January winter air of Dublin hit me. It was 5pm and dark. The street lights were on and people hurried past me homewards or towards the pubs to meet friends or colleagues.
Where could I seek refuge? I decided that I would go to my father's office/apartment on Mount St. Walking swiftly in that direction, I tried to put a brave face on my utter shock and sadness. Professional looking attractive girls passed me dressed in office suits and obviously looking forward to the night's antics. This hit me even harder and I quickened my pace. I thought of where my girlfriend, Lorena, was at that very moment and it gave me a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had suspected for a while that she was cheating. I was trying to comprehend how people could be so cruel as I passed The Pembroke pub where all the employees of Business and Finance Magazine drank. I couldn't possibly bear to go in. I suspected that everyone knew that I had been fired. I was mortified. Getting seriously drunk occurred to me as an obvious remedy but this sorrow that I felt was something deeper than that which could be mended with a few pints. My life had finally hit rock bottom.
After ten minutes I arrived at the large blue door of the building that my father worked in. I suspected that my father would still be busy working until 6pm and that I might not get a warm welcome. He was a hot tempered man at times especially during office hours. But I reckoned that it was Friday evening afterall and 6pm was only twenty minutes away. So I rang the bell.
My father's current partner answered the intercom in a professional female English accent.
"Hello."
"Hi. It's me. Is Mark there?"
"Is he expecting you?"
"I didn't realise I needed an appointment."
"Ahaha. Ok come up."
I pushed the door as the buzzer released the lock and walked up the stairs towards my father's office. As I pushed open the door, coming into the landing, I could see my father on the phone looking aggravated.
"Damien, I can't talk to you now", he said, waving a hand angrily, as if he wanted me to disappear or scarper away like a scolded dog apologizing for its existance.
I couldn't believe the string of events that were occurring. It was like something out of the film ‘Falling Down’ with Michael Douglas. So I took a sharp left and entered the kitchen. 'Where is Lorena?', I thought. She was my last hope in finding some compassion. She was afterall my girlfriend and had been for the past two and a half years. But things were going far from smoothly.
Lorena was the most sexually liberated woman I had ever met and I was in love with her but I hated her when I thought that she could be unfaithful. I had suspected this on many occasions but Lorena assured me that she was true. I wanted to believe her with all my heart but there was something I sensed that aggravated my mind into suspicion. This feeling had been growing in the pit of my stomach like a cancer and making me sick.
Taking out my mobile phone from the pocket of my faded grey jacket I keyed in her number. The phone rang and Lorena answered with a cheeky Italian voice:
"Hello, how are you?" I said, while wanting to tell her all that had happened.
"I'm ok, how are you?" she replied in a cold clinical way.
"So where are you?" I asked
"I'm on the bus to the city centre. Where do you think I am?" she said.
I could here music in the background and laughter and she was being cheeky as always.
"Listen, I can't talk to you now. Call me later." she said.
"Why can't you talk to me?"
"Listen I can't talk. Call me later. Bye."
I blushed with anger and my heart raced as I thought what I was going to do. There was a full bottle of Jameson whiskey on top of the press in my father's kitchen. I took the bottle and poured myself a glass and knocked the whole lot back in one go.
I swung open the door of the kitchen, opened the door of the apartment and descended the stairs, unnoticed by my father in my leaving. Opening the door I walked out into the winter air for the second time that evening. I decided that I would head towards O'Connell St. which was where I usually met Lorena. Avoiding peoples eyes in case they would see the torment in my own, I again took out the phone and dialled Lorena's number.
"Why can't you talk?" I asked.
"I just can't. Here say hello to my friend." Lorena passed the phone to someone else.
"Ciao" an Italian said in a deep masculine voice.
"Who is this?" I asked.
The man handed the phone back to Lorena.
"That was Anna." Lorena answered cheekily.
"No it wasn't. That was a man's voice.", I said.
"Now you are being paranoid again.", she replied.
"Yeah I'm sure. Liar. Look I'll meet you at Eason's at 6pm ok?"
"Ok" Lorena hung up the phone.
Lorena seemed to get pleasure from inflicting insecurity. She was wicked at times and had done this exact type of thing numerous times. I went into Easons bookshop and started to leaf through magazines trying hard to control the emotion that was welling up inside me.
Lorena arrived at Easons fifteen minutes late, looking flushed and smiling as though everything was fine.
"Come on let's go", I said with suppressed anger that was building fast like a volcano on the verge of eruption.
"Go where?"
"Your place", I said.
"You don't want to get a coffee or something first?”, she said innocently.
"No."
We left Easons and walked along the street towards O'Connell Bridge in the centre of Dublin. The street was bustling with people and the traffic was backed up with commuters on the way home.
"Why were you late?", I asked.
"The bus was late.", she replied cheekily.
"Who was that you put on the phone. It was a man's voice.", I asked angrily.
"No it wasn't. It was Anna. You are just paranoid."
"I am not paranoid. You are lying again".
"Yeah ok, whatever." She said cheekily.
"Look. That was a man's voice on the phone and you are a fucking liar. I don't know what I'm doing with you. I'm gonna come to your flat now, get my stuff and that's fucking it. I can't believe this. It's over."
"Ok" Lorena said as if she didn't really care. As if she had been expecting it. Her indifference hurt.
We began to walk along the river towards Christchurch Cathedral, to Lorena's apartment. I had been living with her now for 3 months since I had moved out of my place a mile up the river beside the Guinness Brewery.
"How can you be so twisted.", I asked.
Lorena just stopped speaking like she always did in arguments when I lost my temper and by doing so she was now the victim. The walk seemed to take for ever, along the river with oncoming traffic queued up all along the quays. I felt the peoples' eyes on me and that they could see that my girlfriend and I were having a row. I wanted to be on the inside looking out instead of vice versa.
Eventually we arrived at Lorena's and went into her bedroom. I started to gather up my important things like my mobile phone recharger, and my clothes. I shoved them into a bag while Lorena just sat on the bed with a blank look on her face. Lorena and I really loved each other deeply but we had come to a point where lies, doubt and anger had poisened our relationship. I should never have moved into the flat without paying something towards the rent. I had undermined myself. But I never had any money and was always tapping Lorena for some which did nothing for my confidence.
"I got fired today.", I confessed, looking for some sympathy and trying to explain to Lorena how I felt.
"That's because you were always late", Lorena replied in a cold emotionless voice.
"No I got fired because I am depressed and its because of you. You are a lying cheating whore. That's why."
Lorena didn't say anything. I was close to tears and I lifted my bag and left the apartment without saying anything. I felt crippled with grief. I exited the front door of the apartment block and started walking down towards Templebar keeping my eyes fixed firmly on the ground. I wasn't able to go down to that depressing Bus Arais station and take the bus home to Navan. I went to a public telephone in Templebar and called my father.
"I need to talk.", I said.
My father sensing that something was wrong said:
"Ok. Come up to my apartment."
"That's a big change from 3 hours ago", I thought to myself. But all the same I was glad to get the invitation. So I started walking towards my father's place which was a few blocks away. I passed Trinity College walking up Nassau St. and then onto Merrion Square and onto Mount Street.
When I arrived my father came down to the door and let me in. We went up and sat beside the fire and I explained what had happened.
"How do you know if a women is being faithful to you or not?" I asked, feeling totally confused, numbed and depressed by what had happened.
"You can't know really, but I suppose you feel it in your bones." he said.
"Look I feel you deserve your time in the sun. Why don't you head off to Australia and get you career going. I'm serious. Life is too short for this. Lorena is bad news. Hare off somewhere and live it up for a while. You deserve it."
My face brightened sitting there beside the fire chatting to my father. I started to regret some of the vicious cruel things I had said to Lorena - things said in anger that I didn't really want her to take seriously. But I had said them and could never take them back. I stayed there until late and then went for the last bus back home.
I hated my home town, Navan. It was full of bad memories from when my family had split up. The town where I had almost died due to a chronic asmtha attack after which I ended up in hospital for 2 months with a punctured lung. I never felt comfortable in the place. The town was home to a few lovely people but it was also home to the type of people I hated. The type of people that hang around in tracksuits at corners and drove cars with tinted windows.
The bus arrived in Navan after an hour and I was at home now without a girlfriend or a job. Home in this place that I hated. I settled into a routine of watching television, speaking to my mother, Liz and sister, Louise, about what had happened. They felt sorry for me and I hated that. I despised pity but there I was. My mother had never approved of me living with Lorena anyway. She was religious and disapproved of cohabitation of any kind outside marriage. A good philosophy but not really practical in the modern world in my opinion. Or maybe she was right but I didn't want to think about it.
After a day or two I asked my mother to give me a lift to Dublin so that I could get all my things out of Lorena's. I phoned her.
"I'm on the way to Dublin to get my stuff out of your flat."
"I want my money first.", she said.
"I don't have any money. I'll give it to you when I have it."
There was silence.
"Look I'll be there at about 7 O clock ok?"
"Ok" Lorena replied coldly.
Sitting in the passenger seat as my mother and I drove to Dublin I thought about how I had come to this embarrassing place in my life. What had happened? No money, no job and a broken relationship. I thought back through my life as I had been doing over the past while, trying to see what had gone wrong. I went back to the very beginning.
Chapter 2:
My Childhood
I was born in Altnagelvin Hospital, Derry, Northern Ireland, in 1976. My mother and father then took me across the border into Donegal. We lived there as a family until I was four. My father, an architect and engineer, then decided to move with the family to Navan, Co Meath for work. We bought a nice big house in the middle of the town.
I went to the local primary school, Scoil Mhuire, with my brother who is four years older than me. I don’t have many memories of that time in my life. I suppose I was too young. I do remember lunch time when we would play football with a tennis ball. The gypsies attending the school got jealous of our game and would steal the ball. We would have to negotiate to get the ball back.
Scoil Mhuire
By Damien Leech (10th Jan 2006)
Walking to school on frosty mornings,
Trying not to slip on the ice,
When it was really cold,
We'd pray that the heating pipes would burst,
And the radio man would announce that the school was closed,
And we could stay in bed.
Reading A First Confession,
And writing essays and dreaded maths,
Long division and fractions,
Saved by the bell and out for lunch.
Playing football with a tennis ball,
The Gypsies would steal the ball,
And negotiations would start.
The seasons would change,
The ice melted away,
Confessions, Easter Sunday Mass and Easter Eggs.
Park the bike by the Garda Station so it didn't get stolen,
Not long to the Alter Boys Tour,
Where were we going?,
That surprise was top secret.
It was hot now,
Summer sports day comes along,
Egg and spoon races and 100 metre sprints,
The smell of freshly cut grass in the sun.
Not long till the summer holidays and days by the sea.
My father was doing quite well at work and we were well off. So in the summer we had the most amazing holidays. When I was seven we went to Detroit to visit my grandfather. We then travelled down to Houston, Texas to see my aunt. We visited Nasa. It was astounding to see the old rockets that had gone into space and satellite dishes which sent and received messages from The Universe.
In another summer we travelled to Brittany in France where we rented a house near the beach for two whole months. We would go surfing on huge breakers and then go back to the house for hot showers to warm up. But it was around this time that my parents started to argue.
As a child I had a great family life. Every Christmas my grandfather, uncles and aunts would fly back from the US. The Irish part of the family would all pile into the car and head for Dublin airport to meet them. We would usually go in my uncle Johnny’s Mercedes. My grandfather would bring the most amazing presents and we would all go over to my grandaunt’s house for Christmas day where we would sing Christmas carols and eat like horses.
One night my uncle Johnny left Barney Reillys pub in Navan, got into his car and headed for home. On the way home he ran into the back of a tractor and trailer and was killed. My family were devastated. Johnny had been the most wonderful uncle. He was always the life and soul of the party.
After my uncle Johnny’s death there were a number of more deaths in the family. My great grandmother died. Then my grandfather died of a heart attack in Detroit. The family were going through a very difficult period. It seemed to me that I was losing all the wonderful people in my family.
The Death of My Grandfather
By Damien Leech (26th January 2006)
Summer in France,
Mass outside in a beautiful garden surrounded with flowers in bloom,
Ice pops by the pool,
Football games beside our tent on warm grass,
Competitive tennis in the heat of the sun.
At night we fell asleep to the sound of crickets,
We wondered what the English girls next door were doing tomorrow.
Our grandfather had to return to The States,
We started our farewell journey to the airport,
Driving along that motorway in an old orange camper van,
Myself, my brother, my father and my grandfather,
There was the silence of sadness,
"I have to go now. Are you going to be ok?"
A powerful wind at the airport and he was gone.
A few months later,
I was woken in the middle of the night,
"Tom is dead."
There were tears in my father's eyes,
Being young and not really understanding death,
I turned over and went back to sleep.
We went to the graveyard in a black limousine,
And that's when I realised he wasn't coming back,
He was gone,
The dam of sadness broke,
And our family broke with it.
My parents separated when I was twelve. I remember the moment that my parents told me that they were going to seperate. We all sat in a circle on the grass beside the port in Le Harve, France. My father then told us: “Your mother and I are going to separate.” I remember my heart sinking. I was shocked. When we got back to Ireland my father got ready to leave the house. I remember him leaving. I have a memory of him standing at the front door and saying goodbye. I cried and cried after he left.
I was suffering from very bad asmtha at the time. I developed a very bad chest infection which got worse and worse. I eventually developed pneumonia and one of my lungs burst. One night my mother bundled me into her old Renault 4 and drove me to the emergency room of the local hospital. They said that my health was to bad for them to treat me and they advised my mother to take me to the emergency room in Drogheda. I had to stay in hospital for two months.
I started secondary school in 1990 in St Patrick’s Classical School, Navan, Co Meath, Ireland. I was very excited as they had a basketball team which I joined immediately. I studied hard and played basketball at lunch time and after school. In 1993 I sat my Junior Certificate and did very well. Life at home was tough as my mother did not have much money after the separation from my father.
In the summer of 1992 my father took my younger brother and sister and I to visit my aunts in San Diego. We flew from Dublin to Atlanta and from there on to San Diego. It was the most amazing holiday. My father and aunt suggested that I do a surfing course at Mission Bay. I enrolled. I did a week long course. I got very badly sunburned but had a great time. At the end of the course I was given the award of ‘most improved surfer’. We had a great time in San Diego and returned to Dublin after two weeks. Back to Ireland.
It was the ruling of the court after the judicial separation of my parents that every second weekend we would be with our father. One weekend my father invited myself, my younger brother and sister away to Killykeen Forest Park in Co. Cavan. When we arrived there was a woman in the house. I was very shocked as I had never seen my father with a woman apart from my mother after the separation. In fact I was disgusted as my father had not told me that this woman would be there. I clammed up and stopped talking. I felt trapped. A terrible depression came over me. My father lost his temper with me and at the end of the weekend he drove me home to Navan at top speed.
Myself and my father didn’t talk for six months after this episode. I was very angry with him.
My grades at school started to suffer. I went to Donegal for the summer and worked for my old Aunt in the Plaza Ballroom. I started drinking quite heavily. I was now seventeen. I started going to the local nightclub the White Strand with a group of Australians. I tried hard to find a girlfriend but didn’t click with anyone.
My father and I eventually made up. I still found it very depressing to be with him and his girlfriend but I made a big effort. It was around this time that I started to develop depression. My grades at school started to suffer.
My father suggested that I get braces to straighten my teeth. So I went to the Dental Hospital in Dublin to get them. I was very stressed at this period in my life. My mental health started to get bad. I used to sit in maths or chemistry class and worry about missing my dental appointments in Dublin. I knew that if I missed an appointment my father would lose his temper with me and I was frightened of him.
I started to sleep in in the mornings and miss school. At this period I was developing sexually. I was running up and down to confessions in the local church twice a week. I would leave the confession box sweating. My mother had told me that masturbation was a mortal sin and I felt very guilty about it.
My mother started to worry about me and got me an appointment with a psychologist. The counsellor really helped me and my depression lifted slightly.
The only thing I liked about school was English class and basketball. I used to stay back after school and train. We had a very good team which managed to get to the Leinster finals.
Two days before the final I was walking out of school when a well known drug dealer in the town kicked water up onto the back of my coat. I turned around and went back to him.
“Was that you?”, I asked
“No”, he replied
So I walked away. As I was leaving he said:
“Yeah. It was me. What are you going to do about it?”
I turned around and approached him. We got into a serious fight. He was wearing a ring and threw some very hard punches at my head. It started to rain and a crowd gathered around us. Then the Irish teacher in the school came running across the carpark and broke up the fight. I was badly cut on the side of my head. The next day I was called down to the principles office and suspended for one day. I was almost not allowed to play in the basketball final. My grades fell even more after the punches to my head.
It was around this time that I decided that I wanted to be a doctor. My mother and elder brother advised me to stay back and repeat fourth year in school. I took their advice. It was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made. All of my friends went ahead of me and I lost contact with them. I had to get used to a completely new class.
I went to the local nightclub, The Ardboyne one night and met a girl called Sinead. She was working in the local shop and I recognised her. We ended up going out together for 4 months. In the morning before school she would phone my house to get me up. We would meet and go down to the ramparts to kiss.
I decided that I didn’t really like her. She cursed a lot and I thought she was crude. One morning before school I broke it off with her. It was very difficult to do as I had never broken it off with someone before.
In 1995 I did my Leaving Certificate. I got pass grades. I had gone from being top of my class to bottom of my class. I couldn’t concentrate on my work. I was constantly worrying about something. If it wasn’t my dental appointments in Dublin it was something else.
Chapter 3:
College
I had put down medicine as my first choice on the CAO form for University choices but the only place I got accepted for was European Studies in Letterkenny, Co Donegal. Off I went to Letterkenny. The college turned out to be in an old psychiatric hospital that had been converted into a University. I thought it was disgusting. The front part of the hospital was still open so when I was walking into college, psychiatric patients were walking up to me and staring at me. I started to drink a lot. I didn’t meet any girls.
The rain in Letterkenny just kept falling. One night while coming back from basketball training I actually had to pour water out of my shoes it had rained so much.
I moved into a house with a group of French students who were over to study English and business. They were drinking a lot also. They taught me how to cook. I wasn’t studying at all. I found the course boring. Coming up to the exams in December I wrote a letter to my parents telling them that I didn’t like my course and that I wanted to study journalism.
I went back to Navan for Christmas and didn’t go back to Letterkenny. After Christmas I enrolled in the journalism course at Griffith College Dublin. I would be starting in September 1996. That meant that I had from January ’96 to August ’96 free. I decided to go to France. I took out the atlas studied the map and decided that I wanted to go to Bordeaux in the Southwest of France. I went to the Alliance Francais in Dublin and got a list of courses.
In February I flew to Bordeaux. When I arrived I started looking for somewhere to stay. I went to a hostel in the city but decided not to stay there as it was to dirty. So I had to find somewhere else. I was carrying two heavy bags. I eventually found a hotel on Rue de Pasteur. I went up to the room which was quite nice. After a hot shower I went out to buy something to drink. As I stepped out onto the street I noticed that it was lined with prostitutes. Little had I known but that I had picked a hotel on the main street for prostitution in Bordeaux.
The next day I went out to the University to enrol for my course. I also needed to find somewhere else to stay. When I reached the campus I went into the student accommodation office. There was a lovely woman there who was very helpful. She got me a small room on the campus for quite a reasonable rate. I moved in.
I started going to my French course during the day. The class was small. There were people from all over the world in it. At night I would go to the local bar for something to drink. I started to sleep in in the mornings and miss some of my classes.
I enrolled in the surf club and every Thursday we would head off to the coast to Archacon or Lacanau. I had to wear very strong suncream. It was fun though. When I got back to the campus after the surfing I would fall fast asleep. The sea air would make me sleepy.
Around this time. I met Celine, Laetitia and Jeanne. I met them one night after a dance at the local pub. Myself and a Russian friend brought Celine and Laetitia to the campus television room after the party. We were doing our best to score with them. We didnt get anywhere that night. My Russian friend walked Celine home and I walked Laetitia home.
The following night Celine called over to my room. I had been surfing and was half asleep when she called. She came into my room and we had a chat. She told me that she liked me. We left my room and went over to the campus television room. The Oscars were on television.We sat down in the dark in the room and cuddled up together. I put my arm around her and we started kissing. We kissed for about 1 hour. Afterwards we went back to her room and made love. It was the first time I had sex.
The next day I went back to my room to sleep. I hadnt gotten much the night before!
Our romance continued for a few weeks. But something really bugged me. Celine told me that she had a boyfriend who she saw every weekend. He was in the army. This made me jealous but I put up with it in the hope that she would leave him for me.
One night I was in my room. There was a knock that came from the shutter of my window. I walked over to the window and pulled back the shutter. Laetitia and Jeanne, Celine's friends, were standing outside my window.
“Bonsoir, comment ca va?”, I said.
“Damien, we have a proposal for you. Do you want to get revenge on Celine for two timing you with her boyfriend?”
“What do you mean?” I said
“Do you want to be with me and Jeanne tonight?”
“Ok”, I said, “Come in.”
The two girls climbed in the Window.
“Do you want to be with me or Laetitia first.”, Jeanne said.
“Hmm. I'll be with you first.”
So Laetitia left the room. I was very innocent still. We kissed for about 10 minutes and Jeanne left.
Then Laetitia came into the room. I told her that I liked her the most out of the three of them but that I had never had the courage to tell her. We kissed for a while. Then Jeanne came back and the two girls left.
The following evening I met Celine. We went to the television room for a while. I kept my mouth shut about what had happened. At the end of the evening I walked Celine back to her room. I then left her and went to Laetitia's room and slept with her.
It was coming close to my time to leave France and go back to Ireland for the summer. My French course was over at the end of May and my journalism course was starting in September in Dublin. I didnt want to leave. The weather was starting to get nice.
One evening I was studying in my room. I decided to go outside for a breath of air. I stepped out into the garden and there she was. I saw Celine sitting at one of the garden tables reading a book. She looked so innocent, vulnerable and alone. I said hello to her.
“What are you reading”, I asked
“James Joyce, Dubliners”, she replied.
I felt very emotional. I left her and went back to my room where I burst into tears. I cried and cried. I felt so guilty. Celine came to my room and knocked. I opened the door in floods of tears.
“Damien, what's wrong?”, she said
“Nothing its ok.”, I said
We both lay down on the bed. We made love.
The following week I flew back to Dublin. I still remember the flight. It was an Aer Lingus 737. The sun shone in the window the whole way home. My mother collected me at the airport and we went home.
I immediately asked my uncle for a job. He used to own a furniture store in Mount Merrion, Dublin. He said fine;
“Be here for 9am tomorrow morning.” The next morning I got up at 7am. Walked up to the square in Navan and took the 7.30am bus to Dublin. The bus got stuck in traffic and I was late for my first day at work. My uncle was annoyed.
I worked in the shop for about a month and a half. But it was not a pleasant experience. I got bullied by the other employees. On my first day at work my uncle asked me to clean the toilets. So I went from learning French in Bordeaux to cleaning toilets in Dublin. It was as if my uncle wanted to break my confidence. I stuck it out for about a month and half. Then I resigned.
They were building a hotel next door to my house. I went in and asked for a job. I got one. So I started working on the building site next door. At least I didnt have to travel to Dublin every morning. I could get up at 8.30am and go into work at 9am. It was great fun but exhausting. I would mix cement, shovel it into a trough. The crane would pick it up and lift it to the third floor. I would then go up. Shovel the cement from the trough into a wheel barrow, bring it into the corridor and the plasterer would put the cement up on the wall. At the end of each week, the lads and I would go for a Friday pint. It was the nicest pint in the world.
I worked on the site of the Newgrange Hotel for a month. Then it was time for me to start my Journalism Degree. I moved into a flat with my friend Steve and his friend John (who owned the apartment) in New Row South, Dublin 8. I started College.
The course went fine. At the beginning the class were warm and friendly. There were a few nice girls. But as the year went on for some reason people in the class became quite cold towards me. So I started going out to the University College Dublin bar at night with my cousin. We did out best to chat up as many girls as possible. After being in the bar at UCD we would usually head into town. We would normally go to Copper Face Jacks or the Vatican on Harcourt Street. It was a good year. A lot of drinking and very little scoring for some reason!
That summer was my opportunity to do the J1 American student work programme in the USA but my family wouldnt go garantaur on a loan for me to travel. This was a pivital moment which would change the course of my life. My family had let me down. I went back to Bordeaux. I went out to the coast and started working in a surf shop in Lacanau-Ocean. I stayed in a hostel owned by Mata Hari. Mata Hari also owned a surf shop in Lacanau. That summer was amazing. I would work 9am to 6pm in the surf shop and then go for a surf. Then back to the hostel, get a shower and out for dinner and a few drinks. There were a few great nightclubs. I would usually stay out till about 3am and then head back to the hostel and get into bed. Next day I would wake up with a hangover and go into work. When I got payed from the shop the manager said to me one day.
“Try not to drink all the money”
I had a bit of a reputation. I was going out every night but I was lonely and I was hoping to meet a girl. I was also worried about getting an asmtha attack. The alcahol relaxed me.
Celine and Laetitia in Bordeaux didnt come out to Lacanau for some reason. I was confused.
I got fired from the shop. The manager walked up to me one day outside the shop where I was renting surf boards and said:
“On Friday your job is finished.”
I was shocked. I worked till the end of the week and then started looking for another job. I eventually got a job in the hotel next door to the shop cleaning mussels. I would lift a bunch of mussels out of a barrel, pick the tales off them and throw them into another barrel. After a while I got pretty pissed off with this.
The surfing was great. I have a memory of being out on the board beyond the breakers with the other surfers. It was raining slightly. The waves were huge. Every now and then a huge swell would come in and one of the surfers would go for it. Paddle, paddle, paddle and he would take off.
Lacanau - Ocean, France
By Damien Leech (9th Jan 2006)
Drinking beer on the Boulevard,
Can taste the salt in the summer wind coming in off the Atlantic,
The sound of huge breakers crashing onto the beach in the night.
Sadly, my time in lacanau was coming to an end. I had to go back to college in September. A friend of mine, came over from Ireland for a weeks holiday and then I went back with him. I was very sad to leave Lacanau. I absolutely love the place – the pine trees surrounding the town, the sea, the sand, the nice girls etc.
When I got back to Ireland I needed to find somewhere to stay for the year in Dublin. So I went on the flat hunt in Dublin. I eventually found a place on LondonBridge Road in Sandymount, Dublin 4. I moved in and started back to College.
The year was tough. The people in the class were quite unfriendly towards me. It really hurt. I spent most of my time in the UCD bar with my cousin. I got through the year and got my exams.
The following summer I went back to Lacanau for a two week holiday. Had a great time. A friend of mine from Bordeaux came back with me to Dublin. We hung out at the house in Sandymount.
It was around this time that I met Lisa. She was a girl from Derry in Northern Ireland. We went out for a while. She was a bit crazy. Every time we would go out she would get sick or start a fight. We would be sitting in the pub with my cousins and she would start to argue. We broke up.
The following year was my final year at University, 1999. I moved into an apartment, Bow Bridge Place, Dublin 8 with a friend of mine and my cousin. We had a great time. Out every night. We usually headed into Templebar for a few pints and then onto Club M.
One night myself and my cousins, including Eugene Maloney, the journalist and my cousin who was murdered, went out drinking. We ended up in Club M again. I met a beautiful girl called Liana from Leicster in England. I fell madly in love with her. We snogged in the nightclub. The next day she went back to England. We had exchanged telephone numbers. So we started a line from Dublin to Leicster. We talked on the phone for hours. She invited me over to England. But my father stopped my allowance which meant that I couldnt travel. I lost Liana.
It was around this time that I met Lorena. I went to a party in the apartment on the floor below mine. We were all drinking sangria. There was a lovely girl sitting beside me. It was Lorena. We chatted. When the party was over she left me to the door. She lived in the apartment. The following day she called up to my apartment to ask me for the yellow pages. The following day she called up again for the yellow pages.
One night myself and my cousin went out drinking. We headed down into Templebar for a few drinks. He went off chatting up some bird and we got split up. At the end of the night I was walking home alone along James's Street. There was a woman walking up ahead of me. I was walking faster than her and I caught up with her. She was stocious drunk as was I. We walked along together and started chatting. We eventually got to the door of her house and she invited me in. Straight to bed.
I went out with her for about a month. Then one day I was in my apartment when Lorena called up.
“Can I come in?”, She said.
“Sure”
We went into my room.
We sat down on the bed.
“Who do you prefare me or the older woman?” She asked.
“Hmm, I prefare you” I said.
She handed me a piece of paper. She had written on it;
“Do you want to have sex? Yes or no?”
I was shocked.
“Ok” I said and I ticked the yes box.
It was like a contract. In later life now I suspect that the piece of paper was a contract. I suspect that my father had me tied up legally so much so that a girl had to make a contract with me to go out together.
Lorena and I made love. It seemed rather mechanical but that was it. Myself and Lorena started to go out. I broke up with the other woman. So now I had finished college, I was going out with Lorena and living in Bowbridge Place Dublin 8. I had some loose ends I needed to tie up with my degree. My essays were late. So I needed to get them finished which meant that I couldnt work. By rights I should have come out of college that summer and gone straight into a job working as a journalist. But my essays were late and I needed to get them finished before I could start working. But I needed to pay the rent. My father had stopped my allowance. The only thing I could do was sign on the dole. I was mortified. I had to queue up with all the unemployed people to collect social welfare. But the money wasnt enough. So I also had to look for a job cash in hand. I eventually got a job in a video store. So I was collecting the dole, working in the video store and also working on my essays. I eventually got the essays finished handed them into college and I was officially finished my degree. Now I could start working.
Chapter 4:
Trying To Work
I went to a recruitment agency and got a job in telsales working for Scottish Widows. It was a great job but not journalism. There were plenty of nice girls working in the office. I asked one of them out but she said that she had a boyfriend. I did this job for 3 months up until Christmas '99.
After Christmas I started a job in Bord Gais – the Irish gas company. I was working in customer service. All day I would make appointments for people who wanted to get their gas boiler serviced. I also took complaints. It's a semi state company. The food was great in the canteen and we got lots of tea breaks. I was drinking quite heavily at this time. Every Friday we would all pile into Mulligans pub for a few pints of guinness after work.
My personal life was exciting. One of Lorena's friends, Veronica came over to visit from Italy. I took her out drinking one night and we got together. We ended up having sex in the basement of my apartment building. I felt bad cheating on Lorena.
Two days later Lorena told me that she had a surprise for me. She told me that her and Veronica wanted to be with me together. I was shocked. That night we went out drinking. We headed for Club M afterwards. I was looking forward to making love to two girls. When we got home we did the deed. It was amazing.
Veronica went back to Italy. A month later myself and Lorena went to Italy on holidays. We flew Dublin – Rome, Rome Sardinia. It was a great holiday. Myself, Lorena and Veronica ended up having a another threesome in a forest behind a beach. Myself and lorena wanted to sexually experiment more.
When we got back to Ireland Lorena set up a website called Irishthreesomes.com
We wanted to meet other girls who wanted to experiment. Around this time my lease on my apartment finished so I moved in with Lorena. My life was great. Working in the gas company and having a girlfriend that wanted to have threesomes.
But it started to go bad. I started to suspect that Lorena was having sex behind my back with other guys. I was getting paranoid. I asked her out straight but she denied it. We started to fight. I would go out on a Friday evening after work and get drunk while she was at home. Every night I went out I started to suspect that she was having sex with a friend of hers behind my back. We would have a big row on Fridays, make up on Saturday and have a nice Sunday. Myself and Lorena had our own language. It was like baby language from our childhoods.
Because I thought Lorena was cheating I kept my eye out for other girls. My attitude was that if she was going to cheat so was I. One evening I went out after work on a Friday. Myself and a friend went over from D'Olier Street, where the office was, to Templebar. We went into the Auld Dubliner pub and started drinking. A group came in and sat opposite us. I noticed one girl in particular who kept looking at me. I looked back and she smiled. I got up and went over to her. Within minutes we were kissing. She came back to my apartment. We made love. It was amazing. She was so beautiful. The next day when I woke up she was gone. I was devestated.
I didnt tell Lorena but she suspected something. We went to a pub together on Saturday.
“What do you want to drink?” I asked Lorena.
“Your blood”, She replied.
We went back to her apartment. We got back together.
In the summer of 2000 my family and I flew off to the South of Spain on holidays. We flew Dublin – Malaga rented cars and travelled along the coast to Estepona. We stayed in a villa. Estepona was quite isolated. There wasnt much going on at night so myself and my cousins all piled into taxis and travelled up the coast to Puerto Banus, the millionaires hangout.
On one of these nights I started drinking a lot of wine before we left the villa so I was quite drunk. When we arrived in Puerto Banus we started drinking more. We usually did a pub crawl up the main street for nightlife ending in a nightclub. I got even drunker. By the time we got half way up the street I was stocious drunk. I decided that I needed to get some fresh air so I walked out of one of the pubs without telling any of my cousins. I walked down onto the water front where all the millionaires cruisers were. There was a barrier which said “No Entry except for Boat Owners”. I walked around this barrier and down the peer in the dark. When I got to the end of the peer I decided that I needed a little sleep. I lay down and fell fast asleep. I woke up under the water. I had fallen in. I rose to the surface in pitch blackness realised where I was and swam over to the peer. I pulled myself out of the water and up onto the peer/marina. I was soaking wet. I walked back along the Marina. There were two couples drinking champagne in the back of one of the cruisers. I asked them for a towel but they wouldnt give me one. So I continued up the Marina. I was dripping wet and in shock. I got into a taxi and went straight home, took off my wet clothes and got into bed. I was lucky to be still alive.
Apart from that incident we had quite a good time in Spain. Although, I hadnt scored and there were so many beautiful girls. At the end of the holiday we travelled back up the coast past Puerto Banus and Marbella and onto Malaga. We flew home Malaga – Dublin.
I started to have trouble at work. A new manager had taken over Bord Gais. His name was Ben Dover (no kidding). He’s English. He was closing down the customer service department and outsourcing it to another company. Before long I was out of a job. I had to look for something else. I wanted to work in journalism so I sent off lots of cv's. I eventually got a job working for Tara Publishing selling advertising. It was the most boring job I ever had. I lasted about a month.
Myself and Lorena really started to fight at this point. One day she came back from work with a bunch of Roses.
“Where did you get the Roses”, I said
“My brother sent them to me” She replied.
“Yeah sure. Tell me the truth.”
“Now you are being paranoid again”, she said.
3 days later I got an email at work from her to say that she had lied to me. That in fact a guy off the internet had sent them to her. I was disgusted and still didnt believe her but I forgave her. The relationship continued. At this point I really suspected that Lorena was really doing the dirt on me at work and with her website, Irishthreesomes.com
After I left Tara Publishing I went to work in Business and Finance Magazine. I was deeply depressed and paranoid. I was working as a business journalist. Because of the depression I only lasted three months. I got fired on a Friday. That same evening I broke up with Lorena.
I got my stuff and went back to Navan. I wanted to catch Lorena out. I want to prove that she had cheated and I wanted her to admit it. One evening I went out drinking with my friends. When the night was over we went back to my cousins apartment. We were all drunk and started discussing my problem with Lorena. My friend told me that if I wanted to find out the truth from Lorena that I should set up a fake email address and start emailing her website.
When I got back to Navan that’s exactly what I did. I set up a fake email address rickymcrory@yahoo.com. I started emailing the website. I said that I was a wealthy business man with a beautiful wife who wanted to experiment sexually. She emailed me back saying that she wanted to “fuck my brains out”. I asked her about her sexual history. She emailed me back saying that she had had a boyfriend (me) but that she had been unfaithful. She told me that she had had a threesome at Christmas in Italy with a couple and that she had had sex with people from work.
Frodo Territory
By Damien Leech (9th Jan 2006)
He had left her out to the airport that Christmas,
She seemed to be acting strangely,
He wondered why.
Christmas phonecalls.
"Sorry, she's not in."
"I can't talk."
She flew back for the turn of the Millennium,
To be with her boyfriend,
"Why didn't you answer my calls",
"Don't be paranoid."
They broke up.
A short while later he found out,
That she had had a threesome behind his back that Christmas,
She had set it up on The Web.
He had driven to Dublin Airport as a child,
In his Uncle Johnny's Mercedes,
His Grandfather, Uncles and Aunts,
Were flying in for Christmas,
From Detroit and Houston, Texas,
With toys from America,
There were Christmas carols and warm fires.
And the love and warmth of a family all around,
Santa was on his way that night.
Why would she turn those childhood memories upside down?
The mortal wound had been administered,
It took two or three years,
For the poison to reach his heart and mind,
The structure had stayed standing,
But the lights were dimming,
It was most painful at night,
When he lay in bed alone thinking where she could be.
Later, he drove back alone from Donegal one evening,
He looked up and saw crucifixes in the sky,
Two jetliners had criss-crossed,
He wondered where they were going in that blue sky,
The darkness was closing in.
Later that year,
Travelling home from Dublin for his birthday,
The poison had reached his heart now,
And he couldn't go on,
Dark clouds had covered up the sun,
And the rain was pouring down from the heavens,
It was the saddest birthday he ever had.
It rained more in Ireland that summer,
Than it did in one hundred years.
It seemed like God and the Angels were crying.
After reading the emails it was the first time in my life when I felt like I was going to be sick. A deep depression enveloped me. I was deeply shocked.
The following day Lorena called me.
“How are you”, She said.
“I need to talk to you”, I replied.
I met her the following day after work. I had printed out all the emails and had them in an envelope. I showed them to her. She started crying and begged me not to leave her. But that was it for me she had lied to me to much. As far as I was concerned it was definitely over.
I decided to pull myself out of the depression. I enrolled in a TEFL course. (Teaching english as a foreign language). I did the course in Dublin. It took two weeks. After I had finished the course I applied to the International Study Centre to teach English. I got accepted and I started teaching. There was a beautiful girl in the class. She let it be known that she liked me. I invited her out for a drink and we got together. A week later she flew back to Italy. My contract with the school finished up.
Myself and Mary started texting each other Ireland – Italy. Then out of the blue she told me that she was coming back to Ireland to spend some time with me. I was so excited. I met her at the airport. It was beautiful. We went back to my house in Navan. I introduced her to my mother. We had a relaxing time in Navan. A few days later we decided to travel in Ireland. We got on the bus in Navan and started a journey to Bundoran, Co Donegal. Half way through the journey it came on the radio that the Twin Towers had been hit in New York. We were both shocked. We listened to the news the whole way to Donegal. When we arrived we went to the bed and breakfast got into bed and turned on Sky News. We spent the whole weekend glued to the television. At one stage we decided to go for a walk along the beach as a break from the news. I looked out across the Atlantic and tried to contemplate how people can be so evil. At the end of the weekend we travelled back to Navan and a day later my girlfriend flew back to Italy.
So now I was back in Navan not quite sure what to do. I wanted to travel so I got on the internet and sent cvs to schools abroad. I wanted to teach somewhere on the Atlantic coast of Europe in either France, Spain or Portugal. On the other hand I wanted to be near my girlfriend. Low and behold I got offered a job teaching English in Ferrara quite close to Milan and Como where she lived. Off I went.
When I arrived in Ferrara I immediately knew I didnt like the place. It was cold and foggy. I found an apartment in the town and started teaching. The hours were very long and it was extremely stressful. I started drinking quite heavily. My girlfriend came down to visit for the weekend. We had a good time.
One evening I was so stressed that I had a beer in the toilet of the school. I got fired soon after that.
So now I was in Italy with no job. I didnt want to go back to Ireland. I wanted to teach my way around Europe. So I applied to a school in Spain. I went to check my emails one day and found that my emails had been wiped. Suspicious! So I lost the contact with the school. Also my girlfriend started to give me the cold shoulder. One night I was drunk and sent her a text saying that I thought she was cheating on me. We broke up.
What was I going to do? I decided to go to Venice. I got on the train Ferrara – Venice. It was amazing. I walked through the streets in wonder. The canals were amazing. I found an Irish pub called “The Fiddlers Elbow”. In I went and sat up to the bar. I got chatting to the barmaid who was from Sweden. I asked her if they had any work going. She asked the manager and behold I got a job.
Old woman in Venice station
Written by Damien Leech (Italy 2002)
Old woman in Venice train station,
Your are old, tired, tired but lived,
Your thin grey wiry hair,
And wrinkled face a thousand past emotions.
Five large bags on your trolley,
With a little black dog on top,
You are so terribly old and bent with age,
You put your face in your hands,
What are you trying to forget?
What happened to you?
Are you waiting for your son?
Did they take your house?
Why there on that bench in this windy station waiting, waiting,
With sadness as your companion?
So I started working as a barman in the pub in Venice. I was commuting Ferrara – Venice. One evening two American girls came up to the bar. I got chatting to them. I invited them to come out for a drink with me after work. So when I finished up at work we all went to the Casanova discoteque. Emily got really drunk and fell fast asleep on one of the chairs. Had she been drugged?
So I was left with her friend. We started kissing. Emily eventually woke up at the end of the disco. I really fancied her. I had nowhere to sleep. I had missed the last train back to Ferrara so my only option was to wait until the 6am train home. So myself and the girls went looking for somewhere to stay. We called at 3 or 4 different hotels. We eventually found somewhere. Up to the hotel room we went. I got into bed with Emily's friend in the double bed and Emily got into the single bed. Myself and her friend kissed for a while and then fell asleep. I woke up at about 6.30am. I really wanted to tell Emily that I liked her so I got out of bed and went over to Emily's bed tapped her gently on the shoulder and asked her to come into the bathroom in the hotel room. In we went. It was beautiful. We made out for about half an hour. We then went back to bed.
At about 9am we all woke up, rang down to reception and ordered breakfast in bed. Emily sat on the window sill talking to people as they walked by. She was so wild. I loved her. At about 11am we left the hotel. We went wondering along the streets. We had an afternoon meal in a lovely restaurant and then did some more exploring in Venice. I was completely broke. I don’t think the girls knew. I was completely stressed out. I didnt want to go back to Ferrara. I wanted to hang out with Emily. So I checked into another hotel. That night we all went back to the Fiddlers elbow. I had the night off. I was really falling in love with Emily.
We were sitting there in the bar when suddenly Emily got up and went over to another group. She then left the pub with a German guy. I was gutted. She came back half an hour later. I was destroyed. I got really drunk. At the end of the night myself and the two girls left with another American guy. We walked up the street together. Then we came to my hotel. Why I hadnt left after Emily kissed another guy I dont know – lack of self respect, loneliness, low self esteem who knows. Anyway we got to my hotel. I invited Emily in. She said no and her, her friend and the American guy went over to their hotel which was on the other side of the canal. I was so drunk. I went up to my hotel room, turned on the television and fell asleep with my coat on on the bed.
The next day the girls left to travel to another part of Italy. I was so lonely. That night I went back to work as a barman in the Fiddlers Elbow. The girlfriend of the boss was really giving me hassle, shouting at me to get ashtrays etc. So one night I went up to the boss and told him that I couldnt work with his girlfriend and that I was leaving the job. I stayed on in the pub to have a few drinks with a group of Irish friends that had just arrived. That evening I got the late train back to Ferrara. So now what was I going to do. I had broken up with my second Italian girlfriend. The two American girls had left. I had no job. I was depressed and stressed again.
I decided to go back to Venice for a few drinks to see what happened. I went into the Fiddler's Elbow and sat up to the bar. The American guy was there and we started chatting. He eventually left. At the end of the night I was the last one in the bar. The bar manager told me that I owed him 27 Euros for all the drink I had taken.
“I couldnt owe you 27 Euros”, I said
“You do, you owe me 27 Euros.” he said
“I'll give you 20 Euros.”, I said.
“Give me 27 Euros or I am calling the police”, he said
“Call the police if you you like”, I said.
His girlfriend was there and she wanted revenge. Five Italian police officers arrived in full uniform and surrounded me. They told me to take out my wallet. I took it out. I had 40 Euros. One of the police took 20 Euros and hid it. I said I wanted to pay the bill but now I couldnt afford to pay it as one of the police had hidden 20. They told me that I had to come with them. They pushed me out the door of the pub. Along the street and down onto a police boat on the canal. We motored up the canal. I was so drunk. They pulled into a police station on the canal. They told me to empty my pockets. Then they told me to sign a form that was written in Italian. I refused as I didnt understand what it said. Then suddenly one of the policemen slapped me very hard on the side of the head and told me to sign it. Then he hit me again and once more. I was terrified. I started to fear for my life. I signed the form which turned out to be a form admitting that I was drunk and disorderly. Then they told me to wait outside the room. They were checking my details on their computers. I was scared for my life and was considering making a run for it. They told me to come in to collect all the contents of my pockets. They had put the 20 Euros back on top of my pile of things. Then they told me that I was going to jail. They led me up a stairs and then out of the blue they opened the side door of the policestation and let me go. I was in shock. I walked up the street. I called my father. He told me to get into safe harbour immediately. All I could do was wait for the next train back to Ferrara. I got back to Ferrara at 7am the next morning.
At this point I decided that it was time to go home. I was almost having a nervous breakdown. Every time I saw a policeman I got very nervous. So I started to organise my out back to Ireland. I got on the phone to my brother in England and asked him to buy me a ticket to London. He bought it. I got a lift to Bologne airport. When I arrived the airport was crawling with military police. I was terrified. I went upstairs to the bar and started drinking. I remember I was reading Billy Connolly's life story. I noticed a group of Americans sitting across from me so I started to relax a bit. When the plane took off for London I was never so relieved in all my life. The plane touched down in London and I went to meet my brother. I stayed overnight with him and then John, my brother, and I flew back to Ireland. I was never so glad to get back to Ireland and the UK in all my life. I sensed fascism in Italy and it had terrified me.
Chapter 5:
Mental Illness
When I got back to Navan I was very shaken up. I was traumatised. I went into the hotel next door and asked them for a job. I got one. They gave me a job as night porter. After about a month of working in the Newgrange hotel sometimes working at night and sometimes working during the day I started to hear voices. I started writing my book. My brother had given me a laptop as a present and I was writing the book on it. I started to hear more and more voices. I couldnt sleep. I didnt seek help. I suppose I was to frightened to. I was frightened of Psychiatrists and psychiatry.
Around this time The United States and Britain were gearing up to invade Iraq. I couldnt believe it. They were going to make and illegal preemptive strike on a sovereign nation. Had they lost their minds. They invaded. I was glued to the television. Aswell as hearing voices I was also extremely depressed – to depressed to write articles and fight against the invasion. As the troops entered Baghdad I had a nervous breakdown. I couldnt believe what the United States was doing. I thought it was a terrible terrible mistake.
I continued writing my book even with a nervous breakdown. Then I started to believe that my laptop was bugged with wi-fi. I knew that my brother had worked on a programme in Oxford to transfare information from one computer to another. I thought people were reading what I was writing. I smashed my laptop. I took it up to the Police in Navan and explained to them that I thought it had been bugged with Wi-fi (before wi-fi had appeared on the market). They asked me if I would consider getting help. I said I would and that I would come back to them tomorrow. So I left the police station.
One hour later a plain clothed guard, the guard I had been speaking with and the family doctor arrived at my front door. I got frightened. I ran out the back door of the house, up onto a wall, over the roof of our second house at the back, along a wall, across a gate, out onto the main road with Gardai chasing me and jumped into the river Boyne to get away. I let the current take me up the river. It was 10pm on a Sunday night in March and it was pitch black apart from the moon shining down. I turned my head so that it looked like a piece of wood floating up the river. I swam about 4 miles up the river. The police were following me on the river bank. It was like something out of the movie, “The Fugitive”, with Harrison Ford. Eventually one of the Police shouted out:
“Damien, be careful there is a weer up ahead.”
I immediately tried to touch the bottom of the river with my feet. Thank God, I could stand. Hypothermia had set in now. I was freezing although I didnt really feel it because of the adrenalin in my body. I cried out:
“Where's my mum?”
“I'm here love.”, she replied.
At that point I had a decision to make. I could keep swimming down the river and probably drown or give myself up and go to psychiatric hospital. I decided for the love of my mother to give myself up.
I swam over to the river bank and was pulled out by the ambulance crew and the Gardai. I was rushed up to hospital in an ambulance. They put tinfoil around me to warm me up. When I got to the hospital they cut my clothes off, put blankets around me and gave me a cup of tea. About 1 hour later they put me into the psychiatric part of the hospital. I was in shock.
The next day my father called into see me in the hospital. He was very upset. He started crying. He said:
“You had me worried sick. We thought we were going to lose you. Do you want to take the sun out of the sky?”
I put my hand on his shoulder and said: “Dont worry, everything will be fine.”
I spent 6 weeks in hospital. They gave me a drug called Olanzapine (Zyprexa) to take – 20mg each night. I started to get better. My mind had been racing and the drug slowed it down. I was diagnozed with Paranoid Schizophrenia. 6 weeks later I got out. I went back down to the family home for my birthday, the 13th June. My father invited me on a holiday to France visiting the Chateaux along the Loire Valley. He and I had done half the Chateaux when I was a child.
So off we went to France. We drove down to Rosslare and took the Ferry to Cherbourg. The Ferry journey was great. Myself and my Dad had a few drinks in the bar listening to the onboard entertainment. When we arrived in France we drove down to the Loire Valley and made our way along the Chateaux. The weather was awful so we decided to head South down to Lacanau Ocean. As we drove down the roof tops changed from grey to sandy red. When we arrived in Lacanau we rented a little apartment on the seafront. We sunbathed. I surfed and at night we went for evening meals in the many good restaurants there. After that I went out every night to the bars hoping to meet a nice girl. I didnt meet anybody. When the holiday was over we drove back up the coast towards Cherbourg. My father started to shout at me to read the roadsigns in time. I was scared of him and almost asked him to let me out of the car. We eventually reached the Ferry Port and boarded the Ferry back to Ireland. Onboard we had lovely meals, listened to good music and drank red wine.
When I got back to Ireland I yet again had to decide what to do with my life. What the hell was I going to do? So I decided to sign onto a FAS course in Navan. I started the course. There were about 15 people in the class. They were a really nice bunch made up of people who had been through hard times – just out of hospital etc. I met one of my best friends – Joe Heaney. After class he and I would head to the local pub for pints. I started smoking for the first time before the smoking ban came in. My routine was to get up at about 1pm (I was sleeping to much because I was sedated on the Olanzapine) go into the course until 4.30pm and then head to the pub with Joe until about 7pm. Then go back to the house for dinner and then back out to the local pub for more drinks.
All the time while doing the course I felt that I should be off medication and working in a good job either in Navan or Dublin. In June 2004 I took a job working as a plasterer. I worked for one month mixing plaster and helping the plasterer to put it up on the walls in Drogheda. I was picked up every morning at 7.30am. At the end of the week I had a few lovely well earned pints.
After I finished the job plastering I started teaching English for a school in Navan. I tought for two months and got very well paid. At the end of the two month teaching contract myself Joe and another friend Sean went off to Lacanau again on a week's holiday. We flew Dublin – Paris and then took the TGV train down to Bordeaux and then bussed it out to the coast.
When I got back to Navan yet again I was at a loose end. I didnt know what to do with my life. My routine again became getting up at 2pm and then heading to Brady's pub for drinks. I would stay there until Jim Hannas opened at 5.30pm and then I would head up there to meet the lads. I made a very good friend called Henry Ratty. My mother was worried I was becoming an alcaholic.
My mental health got bad again. My mind started playing tricks on me. I came up with a theory about 9/11. My theory was that I was Osama Bin Laden. My rationale was that Osama Bin Laden had travelled to london as a child and loved the red buses. I also travelled to London as a child and loved the red buses. I used to play with a red bus. I also started to analyse my life through writing my book and realised that I was becoming more and more psychicly angry. I was talking about the wrath of God etc. I also believed that my brother had bugged my laptop with wi – fi and that somebody was reading my angry rants and that the CIA was then manipulating the information into what Bin Laden was saying. I rang The White House and explained my theory.
On the 1st June 2005 my mother invited me for dinner at the house in Navan. I sat down for the meal and in walked 5 men and the family doctor. They told me that I was going to hospital whether I liked it or not. I had a solicitors appointment in 1 hour. I told them about it and they said I wasn’t going. I rang the solicitor. She told me to ring the Gardai and doctor on call. I rang the Gardai. The Gardai arrived and they said the same thing: “You can go freely or we will put you in hospital”. So I went. I got into the taxi and went back to St Patricks Hospital. I was put into The Special Care Unit. I was furious. I was going to lose my summer. They gave me medication to drink in liquid form. I drank it and half an hour later my tongue stuck out and I couldnt get it back in. It turned out to be haliberatol which it turned out I was allergic to. The nurse had to give me an emergency injection to counteract the medication. My tongue went back in. Thank God.
I was given a drug called Abilify to take. It made me extremely anxious. I couldnt sleep or sit in the one place for very long. The medication was changed back to Olanzapine. I stayed in hospital for two months.
Psychiatric Jail in June
By Damien Leech (14 June 2005)
Trapped, troubled souls,
Stuck in this comfortable jail,
My family put me in,
Because I stood up to them,
It was my birthday yesterday.
Psychiatric Hospital Dublin
By Damien Leech (June 2005)
The nurse wheels her trolley of drugs,
In honour of Molly Malone,
"Take one. It will make you sleepy."
Yet again I was at home not knowing what to do with my life. I started drinking again and hanging out in the local bar talking to Sean Brady, the owner. I spent my days sleeping, smoking and drinking.
In 2006 I was sitting in the Templebar Pub in Dublin drinking water because I had no money. A German girl sat down beside me. We started talking and she said:
“I think you are a very sad person.”
To cut a long story short Patricia and I became friends. One evening we went out for drinks. She had a friend with her, Cornelia. A week later we went out again. Patricia told me that Cornelia liked me. I thought she was nice to. So we went home together back to her place. We got together. Within 1 month I was living with Cornelia.
While Cornelia went to work I looked for a job. I could not find a job. I got very frustrated. Cornelia told me she was pregnant. I was shocked. I asked her what she intended to do. She said she wanted to have an abortion. I told her that I wanted her to keep the baby but she was adamant that she was going to have an abortion. I was angry.
In June myself and Cornelia flew off to Porto in the North of Portugal for my birthday. We stayed in a beautiful hotel in the centre of the town. We were supposed to fly home together on the Sunday. Two nights before we left I told Cornelia that I didnt want to go back to Ireland and that I was going to stay in Portugal to look for a job. She said:
“Damien, you either get back on the plane with me tomorrow or our relationship is over.”
I said: “Well, I'm staying.”
She started to cry.
On the Sunday I left her to the tram for the airport and we said out goodbyes. When I got back to the hotel on my own without her I burst into tears. I didnt want her to have an abortion. But she was German and I knew she wouldnt change her mind.
So now I was in Portugal. My only income was the social welfare back in Ireland. It went straight into my bank account which meant that I could draw it out over there. I couldn’t afford to stay any longer at the hotel so I went looking for a hostel. I found one and moved in. I started looking for a job. I was medication free at this point. I became very religious. I spent about 2 hours in the church every day. I looked for work with all the newspapers, radio stations and television stations in Porto but I didnt get anything. I kept in text contact with Cornelia and begged her to come out to Portugal to be with me but she wouldn’t.
3 weeks later my social welfare money was stopped. I hadn’t turned up for interviews with them in Navan. I got on the phone to my friend Wesley in Athlone and asked him for a loan of some money. He lent me 500 Euros.
I needed to find somewhere cheaper to live. The hostel was to expensive. I was in a bar one night and I met a guy who had a room to rent at his place. I moved in. One day I went surfing out to the beach in Porto. When I got back to the new apartment one of the flatmates was there. Suddenly she started shouting and roaring that I had not done the dishes. She had a knife in her hand. I tried to leave the kitchen but she wouldnt let me. I threw her out of the way and ran out the door and upstairs. I was lucky she didn’t stab me. I was looking for the emergency police number but I couldnt find it so I ran down the stairs and out onto the street. I met two police officers on the street and I explained what had happened. They took me up to the police station and I made a statement.
The next day I got up early and went to Igreja Clerigos which is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. I used to just sit there for hours. In the Church I decided that it was time to leave Porto. I took the money that Wesley had lent me out of my bank account and went for something to eat. I drank a strong whiskey, went back to the flat, packed my stuff and got a taxi to the train station. I took the train down to Lisbon. On arrival I checked into a hostel beside the station. I was quite stressed and decided to go out for the night. I exited the hostel and started walking towards the city centre. After about 20 minutes I came onto a street that was full of strip clubs. I went into one of them and bought a beer. There was a girl on the stage performing. It was all a bit sleazy but I couldnt find any good bars. I stayed there for about 2 hours and spent quite a lot of money, money I didnt have to spend on strip clubs but I was lonely and stressed.
The next day I woke up with a hangover. I checked my wallet and realised that I had only 60 Euros to my name. I took the bus to the coast, to Ericeira. It was a surfing town. I went into a Quicksilver surf shop and got chatting to the guy behind the counter. I explained my situation, that I didnt have much money and that I was looking for somewhere to stay. He phoned his mother and I found a bed and breakfast for 20 Euros. That night I went out for a beer. It is a beautiful little town. There were lots of cute women around also.
The next day I woke up in the B&B. I checked my wallet again and realised that I had absolutely no money whatsoever. I left the B&B and went to mass. What was I going to do? After mass I went into a newsagents and started leafing through some magazines. Then it came to me. I thought about Eddie Murphy in Beverley Hills Cop when he checked into the hotel in Beverley Hills. I had no money for cigarettes, breakfast, lunch or tea. I decided to check into the hotel across the road on the sea front. It was an amazing hotel. My idea was to check into the hotel for one or two nights, get something to eat, sleep and get in touch with my family back home and sort something out. So over I went to the hotel. The woman at reception asked me for a credit card which I didnt have so I gave her my passport. I checked in and went to my room. There was a view of the carpark. I went back to reception and asked to be upgraded to a room with a sea view. The room was amazing, a huge double bed, large television, ensuite bathroom and a beautiful view of the Atlantic Ocean with huge waves rolling in. I ordered down to reception for them to bring me up some sandwiches and sangria. They brought them up and I ate my fill. Then I ordered some cigars. I stood in the room smoking the cigars looking out the window at the ocean. Then I sat down on the bed and watched some CNN. I hadn’t been talking to my friends back home in Ireland for a long time so I phoned them. I made about 10 phonecalls to friends back home not thinking about the hotel phone bill. I just wanted to relax. Then I got up and went down to the bar. I ordered a couple of beers and put them on the room. Then I went down to the pool and sunbathed for a while. I was having the time of my life. That night I stayed down at the bar until 1am, went back up to my room and put CNN back on the television.
The next day I got up, ordered breakfast in bed. Then I went down for a message. As the lady messaged me I felt a terrible sadness. I had been through so much. I almost started crying. When the message was over I went into the sauna, then the jacuzzi and then up for lunch in the restaurant and then back down to the pool to sunbath. It was about 35 degrees. I ordered a couple of beers and some more cigars. Then it happened. I went up to the bar to order a beer and was told that the manager of the hotel wanted to talk to me. I went upstairs. I sat in the lobby. The manager approached:
“Hi my name is Oscar, I'm the manager. Are you Mr Leech?”
“Yes I am”
“Mr Leech do you realise that your bill for the hotel over the past 24 hours is 900 Euros?”
“Oh my God. How could it be so much?”, I said.
“You have run up a lot of money on the phone. Do you have the money to pay for it?”
“I have some money in the bank.”
“No I'm calling the police.”, the manager said and he walked away towards reception. Two policemen arrived.
“You have to come with us.”, they said.
I was led out of the hotel and into a police jeep. They took me to the bank. I took out 50 Euros which was all I had left. They told me to take out more but I didnt have any more. The story of my life “Not enough money”. The police then took me over to the station. They told me to phone family or friends. I phoned my brother and my friend Joe. The police gave me one week to pay the bill. My brother bought me a flight back to Ireland out of Lisbon. I left the police station.
I checked into another hotel, a cheaper one. My flight home was leaving in two days. But I didnt want to go home. I deliberately missed the flight. I wanted to stay in Portugal. I didnt want to go back to all that sadness in Ireland.
Four Days later I was lying on the beach in Ericeira when my mobile phone rang. It was my mother.
“Guess where I am”, she said
“Where?” I replied
“I'm in Ericeira, come to meet me”
I was delighted but cautious. I met my mother in the centre of the town. My brother managed to negotiate a price of 400 Euros for the hotel on the basis that I was overcharged and my mother payed the bill.
I wasn’t very well. I had been through so much. Two days later after a few drinks I went up to the police station and told them my Osama Bin Laden theory. The next day I was sitting having dinner with my mother when I got a tap on the shoulder. I looked around and saw a policeman standing behind me beside 3 squad cars.
“Damien, you have to come with us.”, he said.
Then out of the blue my brother John arrived. I was angry with him and told him that I didnt want to travel in the same squad car as him. We got to the police station. There was an ambulance waiting outside. I was told to get in. I was strapped down to a stretcher and the ambulance left. They took me to a psychiatric hospital in Lisbon. I had a consultation with a doctor at the hospital who maintained that I wasn’t crazy. One of the guys that was with me and my brother explained the situation. I was taken in. They gave me two pills to take, one of them olanzapine and the other one I dont know what it was. I went to bed. The following 18 hours I dont remember. Maybe they had given me rohypnol or a similar drug.
All I remember is landing at Dublin airport. I came down the steps of the aeroplane and was put into an ambulance and brought to St Patricks Psychiatric Hospital in Dublin 8. The next following weeks of my life is a bit of a blur but I knew I was safe in hospital. I had a great doctor. I took olanzapine and a mood stabaliser. I felt great.
Cornelia, my German girlfriend came in to see me. She had had the abortion. I was heavily drugged on Olanzapine and could barely communicate with her. We broke up.
I stayed in hospital for 2 months. Then I took a flat on North Circular Road, Dublin 7. I was on disability allowance and rent allowance. The following year is a bit of a blur. At the beginning my flatmates were the best of fun but as the year went on they became nasty. My apartment got broken into five times in the course of the year.
Chapter 6:
Solomon Rushdie Part Dux!
In 2007 I decided that I wanted to emigrate to Portugal again. I flew from Dublin to Porto with Ryanair. I stayed in a hostel. I went to Igraja Clerigos every day which is the church I like. Its like a church out of “Dartagnon”. There are tapestries on the wall and everthing is made of gold. After a week in Porto I took the train down to Lisbon and met up with a friend, John. He works in The Four Seasons Hotel so we got a cheap rate on rooms. The next day we took the bus out to Ericeira. When we arrived we checked into a guest house. Then we went drinking. We went to a little jazz bar. There was only one good looking girl there. John started chatting her up. I got bored and jealous. Me and John fell out and we didnt see each other for the rest of the week. My mum came over from Ireland. I had a relatively good time. My mum went home and I hopped on the train down to Lagos. I stayed at another guest house. I was trying to live on 200 euros a week. After three days of eating and drinking I usually ran out of money. So I was starving for about 4 days a week.
Wednesday (payday from my disability allowance) came along and I took the bus to Huelva just inside the border of Spain. I stayed at another guest house. I was lying in bed and I thought I heard dogs barking upstairs. I started to worry about my family. A deep depression had enveloped me. There was something very strange going on. I felt that people were using satanism on me.
The next day I took the bus to Seville. From there I transfared to Cadiz. The bus dropped me off at the bus stop in the port area of Cadiz. I was never in a more horrible place in all my life. There was a cruise ship and a battle ship in the port. I found a guest house that looked like a brothel. It was disgusting. One night I turned on the television and I saw a beautiful girl in her 20s being sexually abused. I went into shock. I curled up in bed and tried to sleep. The next day I got the hell out of there. I took the bus to Seville. When I arrived I had no money. I wondered around the city wondering what to do. I sat down at a cafe under the heat of the sun. There seemed to be nice people sitting beside me. I asked them if I could borrow their phone. They said ok. I phoned my big brother in London. He said that he would wire me 300 euros. I went to Western Union and got the money. Then I went looking for a hostel. Hostels are supposed to be about 20 euros a night but all the hostels were charging 70 euros per night. I thought somebody was trying to kill me. I eventually found a hostel. Everybody was acting very strangely. There was an English woman on the terrace on the roof who would drop an orange every time one tried to start a conversation. The other people sat with their feet in a freezing cold pool for hours on end. I wanted out of there. I phoned my brother again and asked him to buy me a flight home. I got the hell out of there. I took a taxi to the airport in Seville and flew home.
When I got home I was very ill and checked myself into St Patricks hospital again. I stayed in for 2 months again. I was on injections of depixol when I left hospital but the medication started to have side affects. I started to get really bad pannick attacks. I would freeze completely with fear. The medication was changed back to Olanzapine – my drug of choice!
I moved back to Navan. So now what was I going to do? I was going around in circles in my life. Why I hadnt gone straight into a job in journalism when I finished college and taken a permanent flat I just dont know. So I was back in Navan again with no job. I got on the internet and sent my cvs off to all the English schools in Dublin. Eventually I got a job with Abbey College in Dublin 2. I started teaching. It was so great to be working and earning again.
I taught for 3 months and then I decided to try to emigrate to Biarritz in the Southwest of France. I had always dreamed of living in the southwest of France ever since I was at college. And I wanted to get away from all the sadness and bad memories in Ireland. I flew Dublin - Biarritz with Ryanair. I brought my surfboard. I had made a lot of money from my teaching so I could afford to stay in a hotel the first night. I went surfing as soon as I arrived. Then I hit the bars in Biarritz. The best bar is “The Newquay”.
I went to about 5 different bars and 3 different nightclubs. I was trying to score but I didnt get anywhere, spent a lot of money though.
The following day I took a taxi to a campsite called Fontaine Laborde in Anglet just beside Biarritz. I set my tent on the grass and settled in. I was camping beside a group of Ozzies who were great fun. I started looking for a job in Biarritz. I printed off my cvs and handed them into banks, bars and hotels. I waited two weeks but I didnt get any offers. I got very stressed out and flew home. My mental health was bad again. I just rested in Navan for a month. Then the phone rang. It was my friend Mark in Paris. He told me that he was taking a house in Paris and that I could take one of the rooms. We would be sharing with air hostesses! The next day I flew to Paris. But it was a disaster from the word go. My health was bad. I didnt have much money. All my teaching money was gone. Mark was very impolite, constantly breaking my confidence. I was offered a job teaching English but I had nowhere to stay. The accommodation with the air hostesses fell through. Eventually I fell out with Mark and I moved into a hostel in Paris. I ran out of money, started getting violently sick because I was so stressed out. I went into hospital in Paris, L'Hopitale de Sainte Antoine in the Bastille area. Then I was faced with a decision. Do I stay in hospital in Paris and live in Paris or do I go back to Ireland and go to hospital there and live there? I decided to go back to Ireland for the sake of my family.
In 2008 I flew to Chicago to see my uncle Paddy. My father met me at O Hare Airport. We took the train into the city centre. I remember thinking that the place was very run down. I was snowing and freezing. After about an hour we arrived at my uncle Paddys apartment.
I just hung out in Chicago. We went to a Chicago Bulls basketball game and I got a panic attack. I was on injections of depixol. I went to a Buddy Guy jazz concert and got another panic attack. I went to a New Years Eve party with my family and I got another panic attack. The hotel was full of the most beautiful women I had ever seen but because of my panic attack I couldnt chat them up. I was so pissed off and went home. My uncle invited me to stay in Chicago but I was so fucked up I couldnt see the oportunity. I told him I had to go back to ireland to get my injection. What an asshole. I flew home to Dublin.
So now I was back in Navan with no job, no girlfriend etc. I came off the injections of depixol and the panic attacks stopped. I got some money and decided to try and emigrate to Miami.
In 2009 I flew with Aer Lingus to Orlando and took the greyhound bus down to Miami. I met two lovely girls on the bus. When we got to Miami we took a taxi to my hostel. The girls left and I went up to my room. My room was like an icebox. The air conditioning was turned up full. I stayed there for two nights. I ran out of money. I phoned good old big brother. He wired me some money. I moved to The International Hostel. I got drunk and pinched a girls ass. I got kicked out of the hostel. I went to another hostel and stayed there for two nights. By this stage I was sick. I wasnt able for all the stress. I called an ambulance. They took me to Mount Sinai Hosptial. They gave me some ativan to calm me down. I left. I went to stay in The Tropics hostel. I stayed there for two nights. I got very drunk. There was a Playboy party going on at Mansion nightclub but I was to drunk to make it out of the hostel. I moved again. I went to stay at the Jazz Hostel. The prices were double because there was a dance festival going on. I ran out of money and ended up sleeping on the beach for 3 nights. I called another ambulance. They gave me more ativan. I phoned my uncle Paddy in Chicago. He got me a hostel on Ocean Drive called The Deco Walk. I stayed there for a month. I started looking for a job. I eventually found one in a bar. The night before I was due to start people in my bedroom kept me awake all night. So when I went into work at 8am I was a mess and got fired. I really wasnt feeling well at this stage. I decided to to home. My brother changed my return flight. I took the greyound bus to Orlando and took a taxi to The Best Western Hotel. I took a shower and walked up the motorway to a little Mexican bar. I had a couple of beers. The next day I took the shuttle to the airport. I met an airhostess in the waiting area at the airport. We went for a beer together. We sat beside each other on the plane. We planned to go back to her place when we landed. But half way through the flight she changed and wouldn’t talk to me. When I got back to Ireland I was seriously fucked up. I checked back into St Pats. I stayed there for two months.
Then I went back to Navan. Yet again I was there with no job and no girlfriend. I had run up a bill of $10,000 in the hospital in Miami. VHI sent me a cheque for 5,000 euros. I lodged the cheque. I went to the banklink and checked my account. There was 5,000 euros in my bank account. I jumped for joy. I went to The Palace nightclub in Navan and had a few drinks. I tried to score but got nowhere. I left, jumped into a taxi and headed for Dublin airport. I bought a flight to New York. Three hours later I took off. The flight took 7 hours. I had a few drinks on the plane. When I arrived I took a taxi into Manhattan. I went into The Crowne Plaza Hotel and checked in. I took a shower and ordered a steak. I went down to the bar. I was hoping to meet an American girl but instead I met an English girl. My heart sank and depression started to set in. I ordered a straight whickey and got drunk. The English girl eventually left. I looked down the bar and saw a beautiful blonde girl. I went over to her and started talking to her. But she started saying all the wrong things. She started crying and I started crying about 9/11. She left. Now I was pissed and frustrated so I decided to go a stripclub. I told the taximan to take me to the nearest strip club. When I arrived I was so drunk. They wouldnt let me in but advised me to go to Flashdance stripclub opposite The David Letterman show. I went into Flashdance. I was so drunk. A Russian girl came over to me. She started to dance for me. I just kept handing out the 50s. I spent $2000 in the stripclub that night.
I woke up the next day and checked my wallet. I had $50 left. I was up shit creak. I went to the bank and tried to take out some money but it wouldnt give me any. I phoned back to Ireland. They told me that there was a limit on my account of $350 per day. I waited until 8pm US time and took out $350. I then downgraded to a hostel. I wasn’t feeling well again. I went to hospital. They gave me olanzapine.
I went to see the site of 9/11. I nearly burst into tears. Its so so sad. Who would attack theAmericans like that. It broke their hearts and it broke my heart to be there. I jumped into a taxi and told him to bring me to Wall Street. I went into a bar and started drinking. I stayed there till late. At about 2am I took a taxi to the Mean Fiddler, Times Square. I tried to score but got nowhere.The next day I got up and went for another drink. I really wasnt feeling well and decided that it was time to go home. I took a taxi out to JFK airport and flew home.
The airhostesses were very rude to me when I stepped off the plane in Dublin. When I went into the bar at Dublin airport the barmen were very rude to me also. They kept banging the coffee machine very loudly. I sat up to the bar and there was an inverted phalic symbol on the bar. When I got home my family were raging with me for spending the insurance money. They wouldnt let me stay in the family home so I went to stay in youth hostels in Dublin. I stayed there for a month. St patricks day was coming up and the youth hostel was full so I had nowhere to stay. I was homeless. My last hope was staying with my granny in Donegal. I was sure that she wouldnt turn me away. I was very sick, homeless and had no money. When I was on the bus up, my mother phoned me and told me that i couldnt stay with my granny but that she had booked a hostel for me. I stayed at the hostel for two nights and then called into my grannys. Everyone was being so rude to me. When I got into my grannys my mother and granny left. So I was on my own in the house. I put on CNN. On CNN they said:
“We have no idea where you are.”
It made me reach out. I phoned the Irish Times and explained the situation. Whatever the Irish Times did made my mum and my granny change their minds. They said I could stay with them. But I wasnt feeling well at all. On the third night I called an ambulance. I was so sick. The stress was killing me. The ambulance arrived and took me to Letterkenny psychiatric hospital. I stayed there for a few hours until the morning. Then they got me a taxi to take me to St Pats hospital in Dublin. 200 miles. The taxi cost 200 euros.When I arrived I saw the doctor and settled in.
The doctors wanted me to take injections of depixol because I always stop taking the tablets. The doctor started me on 80mg of depixol. I started getting awful panic attacks again. I got extremely paranoid and thought that people were trying to kill me. When I got out of St Pats I stopped taking the depixol but the panic attacks didnt go away. Had I been brain damaged? I started taking olanzapine. But it wasnt long before I stopped taking it.
I joined a surf club in Dublin. I found out off the internet that they were having a meeting in O’Neills Pub in the centre of Dublin. I took a bus to Dublin and checked into Barnacles Hostel in Templebar. I went up to my room. There was a beautiful German girl in one of the bunks. I got chatting to her and invited her to come along to the surf meeting with me. Off we went to O’Neills pub. We had a great chat. Then we left and went down to the Templebar bar. We started kissing. She told me that she was bringing a package to London. I was taken aback. Was it drugs or a bomb or something but I blocked it out of my mind because I was falling in love with her. We went back to the hostel. We didnt sleep together. The next day off she went to London where she lived.
We kept in touch over the phone. She invited me over to London. I booked a boat to Holyhead and took a train down to London. It was christmas and it was snowing. The train pulled into Euston Station. Mary met me at the station. We went back to her apartment. We baught wine and steak. We cuddled up and watched tv. We went to bed together. We didnt have sex but we did everything else.
The next day she told me that she was going for dinner with her girlfriend, her girlfriend’s boyfriend and her daughter. I got paranoid that she was going to cheat. I joked with her trying to find out the truth and she replied that tomorrow she was going for “the real meal”. I was shocked. The next day she went for dinner. I stayed in my brothers apartment. I phoned her at 12.30am and she was home. I took a taxi over to her flat. I was very angry. I bought a bottle of Jameson whiskey. I sat on her sofa drinking it. She kept coming out of her room asking me to come to bed. I told her that I just wanted to think. The room started turning. I was so drunk. I vomited on her carpet. I went to bed at 7am. When I woke up I heard Mary’s son running up and down the corridor outside the bedroom. I got up and went into the sitting room where I had gotten sick the night before. Mary was sitting on the back of the sofa. She asked me to leave. I did. I was in shock. I took a taxi over to my brothers apartment. I called Mary later. She told me that alcahol was destroying my life. She told me that she would marry me if I stopped drinking. So when I got back to Ireland I stopped drinking. Then Mary broke it off with me. I was gutted. I kept phoning her trying to get through but she wouldn’t answer.
I was very depressed. I checked back into St Pats. While in hospital I met Grainne. When I got out I kept in touch with her. One night I went into Dublin to meet her. I drank a can of beer on the bus on the way to Dublin. I was off all medication at this stage. I was on a high. I met Grainne on Abbey St and we went to the Woolshed pub which is an Australian bar. We started drinking. We were getting on really well. We were planning to go to Australia together. There was a guy sitting at the bar really close to us. I started to get paranoid because he was sitting so close to us, listening to every word we were saying. He was also texting and I thought he was texting about me. I had a pannick attack. I asked Grainne to leave with me. We went to Eddie Rockets. I was in the midst of a total pannick attack and everything I looked at had negative association. I couldnt look Grainne in the eyes. We tried to get back into the Woolshed bar but the bouncer wouldnt let us in because I had beer in a lucozade bottle in my pocket. Grainne told me that she was going home because she was tired. She turned right on Henry Street while I turned left. I remember walking up Henry street and feeling so depressed. I was looking up at the Christmas lights. I went to Madigans pub for a whiskey. I had three. Then I walked down to Bus Arais. My pannick attack was still with me. I became suicidal on the bus. When I got home I went to bed. I woke up at 3.30am. I started watching the movie, “The Firm” with Tom Cruise. It got to the funeral scene and that was when I decided to do it. I went into the kitchen and took every pill I could get my hands on. I got into bed. I started shaking. I got scared. I dialled 999.
“Ambulance, Fire Brigade or Gardai?”
“I just took an overdose.”
Ambulance, Fire Brigade or Gardai?”
“I just took an overdose.”
“Ok I’ll put you through to the Gardai.”
I went down to the front door of my apartment. An ambulance and The Gardai arrived. I was rushed up to hospital. I fell asleep. I had taken massive ammounts of Ativan and sleeping tablets. When I woke up the psychiatrist asked me whether or not I was prepared to go into the psychiatric unit. I said no and she committed me. I was an involuntary patient. I stayed in hospital for a month. I had to take injections of depixol and I got regular pannick attacks. I had a tribunal after three weeks which consists of my doctor, my solicitor, an independent psychiatrist, a barrister and a lay person. I lost my first tribunal.
I’m an alcaholic. So one day I ran out the door of the hospital and ran down town and bought 5 cans of beer. I started drinking them in my apartment. The Gardai and my family arrived. They bust my door down and brought me back to hospital. I got out of hospital after a month and went home for christmas. Then I started a course at the day hospital which consisted of me going into the hospital on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I went out to Bradys bar next door to my house and had a few drinks. There was a nice girl sitting at the bar and we got talking. I invited her back to my apartment. We had sex. We went up to the offlicense and bought a lot of booze. We started drinking. In fact we drank every day thereafter. I went to a party with her and I started doing coke. I got sick again. I had to check back into St Pats. St Pats was becoming like my second home.
I started to have very serious anger issues with my father. I remembered when he put me and my brother out of the car when we asked could we go to the toilet. He would drive off and leave us on the side of the road. When he took us sailing and frightened the life out of us shouting at us. I remember how it felt like walking on egg shells just being around him. My mother left him when she realised that he was going to hurt her children. I remembered when he put my brother out on the street because he told him that he wanted to study on christmas day. I remembered when he took me to the isolated park in Cavan and made me watch him take another woman up to bed and he intimidated me for disagreeing with his morality. I remembered when he intimidated me when I was in his holiday home in West Cork. He abused me psycholigically and then took me out to an isolated rock beside the sea hoping that I would assault him. He did lots more other stuff. It was very difficult to meet him after him doing all that stuff to me and the rest of my family. My mum stayed like a rock while all this was going on. She went to mass every day and never went out with anybody else.
I remember when she used to take us kids to Donegal in the old Volkwagen van and we used to buy toys on the way. I love my mum and I’ll be heart broken when she dies. My father wasnt all bad. He payed for me to go to Bordeaux and also payed for my accommodation and college degree. I think my father is schizophenic like me. I love my dad but he has hurt us kids so much. I ended up in hospital several times because of him. If he hadnt hurt me at 16 and thereafter I would be fine.
I was thinking of opening a shop. I would sell surf boards, wetsuits, surfing tshirts surfing tops, levis jeans, and dvds etc. I asked my brother but he was reluctant to help me given that I was unstable.
I approached the estate agents about starting a shop. The rent was 100 Euros per week. I could afford to pay for that out of my disability money. I was waiting for a phone call from the estate agent. I would sleep till 12 and then get up and go to the Newgrange Hotel for a pint of water. I had no money. At 6pm I would go to Bradys bar for a pint of water. The owner would get annoyed with me for ordering water. Generally she would only offer me soft drinks anyway because my mother told her not to serve me alcahol. Therefore I would go to other pubs to drink alcahol. I love drink. I love the feeling of being drunk. I totally relax. I drink for my nerves and I also use it as a pain killer.
I was still suffering from the pannick attacks. It was like a door opened up into hell. I got extremely paranoid and thought that people were trying to kill me. When it happened the only thing I could do was get into bed and sleep.
I went to an Egrique Iglesias concert in the 02 concert venue. I took the bus to Dublin. When I arrived I phoned my uncle John. I wanted to ask him could I stay with him that night. His wife said ok. Then I phoned John. He kept me on the phone just long enough for me to miss all the good looking girls going to the concert. I was so pissed off. Do my family like to keep me back? I ended up at the concert drinking water on my own. I was so misrable but the concert was great.
Life in Navan was ok. I was doing a course at the day hospital in assertiveness and relaxation.
Every Thursday, Friday and Sunday I would go to AA meetings. I met a very attractive girl at the meetings.
I also went to Dublin to language nights. Every Monday in the Ilac Centre Library Italians would meet Irish people. Every Tuesday Spanish and Irish people would meet. Every Wednesday French people and Irish people would meet. Every Thursday was the German night. Friday was all nationalities. Saturday was Irish language and Russian. I tried to go to as many of these language nights as possible. It was a great social outlet.
When I was in St Pats the last time I met a girl called Ellen. One day we were sitting in the garden of St Pats and she told me it was her birthday. I asked her if she wanted a kiss. She said yes so I leaned over and kissed her. We started to go out together. When we got out of hospital we spent a lot of time together. We stayed in hotels in Dublin like the Crowne Plaza in Blanchardstown. We had a great time. One night I proposed to her. She was so happy. We were planning to get married in The Sandhouse Hotel in Rosnowlagh, Co Donegal. We made a list of people we were going to invite – friends and family.
Because of my severe pannick attacks I decided to come off the injections of depixol and instead took 15mg of Olanzapine. The pannick attacks were less severe with this medication. It’s a gentler medication. I didnt tell my family that I came off the injection. If they found out they would go ballistic and possibly put me back in hospital. Myself and Ellen booked a holiday to The Canaries. We were going in one month. I couldnt wait to do some surfing and feel the warm breeze coming off the Sahara Desert. The flight would be three hours. I hate flying so I was planning to have a few drinks or take some ativan for the flight.
I was going to be teaching in the summer in the Navan School of Languages. With the money from my teaching I was planning to go to Lacanau in the Southwest of France for a week. I love it down there. The beach, the pine trees etc. After this I was planning to travel to my cousins wedding in Cleveland and then travel on down to LA. I couldnt wait.
Alcahol was a huge problem in my life. I really needed the AA meetings. I was drinking a bottle and a half of wine every day. I decided to stop. I went cold turkey and got the dts. Alcahol had almost completely ruined my life. I had nearly died so many times due to alcahol. Eg. falling into the water in Spain. I was considering checking into St Pats to do the alcahol revovery course.
I had written 20, 000 words of my novel which took me 10 years of writing and editing. I sent it off to the publishers. They replied that the book was too short. That I needed to write another 40,000 words before they would consider publishing. When I was in hospital an old woman suggested selling what I had written outside Bewleys in Dublin. So I took her idea and sold my book up the town in Navan. I met a woman who suggested going on the radio about the book. So I phoned LMFM. They told me that they would get back to me.
I kept praying for my sexuality. I was worried that I would become impotent or that I would not be able to have an orgasm. I was afraid of computers and phones. That they could put a spell on me so that I wouldnt be able to get an erection or orgasm. I was afraid of atms. I would pray maybe ten times a day for my sexuality. I had been traumatised so much in my life. I realised that my sexuality was very fragile and that I had to protect it. When I was in Miami I was praying all the time and unless my prayer was perfect I would get very upset. I had had an operation on my left testicle so maybe it had been trauma from that or just trauma full stop.
What was happening on The Globe while all this was going on? America and England had invaded Iraq and Afghanistan in an illegal preemptive strike. The Iraqis hung Saddam Husein which was barbaric in my opinion. Was Iran next? Nato was concerned that they were trying to produce an atomic bomb. The Syrians were protesting because they wanted a change of government. The president was killing the protesters. The UN were trying to intervene. Kofi Annan met the president. There had been an uprising in Libya and the people killed their president Colnel Gadaffi. A tsunami hit the North of Japan killing thousands. In Lebanon the Israelis continued to intimidate The Palestinians. Several boats tried to cross the Israeli sea blockade. The people on the boats were arrested. An Irish boat was on the way to Israel and it was disabled. People suspected that it was the Israeli secret service that did it. The Americans continue to use Shannon airport in the south of Ireland on the way to Iraq and Afghanistan which is a threat to our neutrality. Michael D Higgans is President of Ireland which is great. He had spoken out about the invasion of Iraq. In Irish politics Bertie Ahern, the ex taoiseach was disgraced. Fianna Fail were out of government. Fine Gael and Labour were in. The Church was disgraced with child sex abuse. I couldnt help feeling that it was only a very small minority of priests that had abused children and that the majority of priests were very good holy people. The world economy was in recession. Europe was on the verge of breaking up. The Euro was at risk. The Irish people had to vote on a European fiscal agreement. If we voted no it was like saying that we wanted out of the Euro. The North Koreans wanted to test a long range rocket. America was getting nervous. It just broke on the news that an American soldier went crazy in Afghanistan and killed several people. Its not fare on the soldiers. Hundreds of them have been injured or killed and the United States is wasting millions of dollars on the wars. Why would they spend this money when the economy is in recession.
I couldnt help thinking that 9/11 was a set up. That it was a demolition job with political pay off. If the Twin Towers had not been hit then America and England would not have been able to invade Iraq and Afghanistan. America is running out of oil so they need the oil in Iraq. Charlie Sheen, the actor in America has consistently spoke out about 9/11 being a conspiracy.
I also thought that 9/11 was a ransom for me. That when I was a kid I was politically kidnapped by Britain. I had loved the red buses in London. I used to play with a red bus. I thought that the Americans wanted to get me out so when I was 12 in 1988 they put me on the books of the FBI as Osama Bin Laden. When The Twin Towers came down they said that Osama Bin Laden had loved the red buses in London. It clicked with me a few years later. I thought that the Americans had hit Britain by blowing up red buses in retaliation for what the British were doing to me. My life was miserable. Regular stays in psychiatric hospitals, no money, no girlfriend etc. At least one Garda had had sex with Lorena. I believed that George Bush read the childrens book upside down as a message to me. I realised that I should be happily married with kids by this stage but because of some powerful figures I wasnt. My family was struggling aswell. My elder brother was struggling at work. My mum never had any money. My dads businesss was in decline. My younger brother was a struggling musician and so was my sister. I realised that life should be better than this, a lot better. I couldnt understand why none of my ex girlfriends contacted me. Were they under injunctions? I wanted to do so much. I wanted to go to Australia and Hawaii and surf. I wanted to go to Los Angeles and Lacanau regularly. I wanted to get married and have lots of kids and have a good job so I could support them. I wanted to open a shop. I wanted to go back to Texas and visit Miami when I didnt have to worry about money.
One christmas I had watched on RTE about Oscar and Amnesty International. And then it clicked. I realised that I was Oscar. I thought that Hollywood had taken an interest in my English essays when I was a kid. I used to write brilliant english essays. I believed that 9/11 was a ransom for me, Oscar. I had been persecuted for years. No steady job, no money and no longterm girlfriend.
The New Murder
By Damien Leech (24th January 2006)
I went through 10 years of hell on Earth,
Couldn't get steady work,
Lost partner after partner,
Girl after girl,
I had no money.
I got a little paranoid,
They chased me up a road,
I wanted to get away,
I swam up the River Boyne that night,
Trying to get away.
I got out of hospital,
And I tried again,
I couldn't get a steady job again,
I lost my girl again,
I tried to go to a solicitor,
They put me back in hospital just before my birthday.
On Special occasions I get hurt,
Birthdays, Christmases and Valentines again and again.
I got out of hospital for a while one day that summer,
I felt trapped and saw no future,
I almost stepped out in front of a bus in the middle of summer,
I saw no future.
I thought of the weapons inspector Mr Kelly,
He took his own life,
He like me saw no future.
I thought of the prisoners in Guantanamo Bay,
Some of them want to end their life,
They see no way out.
It's the new murder,
Lock them up or make them take their own lives,
Its a complex game,
But the abusers always like to bury their sins with those they abused.
The Ballyshannon Festival.
By Damien Leech (26th January 2006)
Drinking lots of beer at the Ballyshannon Festival,
We found our tent dodging camp fires among hundreds in the middle of the night,
We hadn't scored and did a bit of structural damage.
Woke up next day with hangovers from hell,
Crawled out of our tent onto the grass,
The guys next door were drinking tea,
"Jesus Christ boys, it looks like your UN Outpost took a direct hit last
night."
Wrong and Right
By Damien Leech 23rd Jan 2006
Wrong is wrong and right is right,
At all times in all sorts of crimes,
That includes bribes.
"A Man for All Seasons",
He had his reasons.
Greedy Fowl
By Damien Leech (23rd January 2006)
Some parents these days,
Are like greedy fowl,
They are so busy sunning themselves,
That they smother their offspring under them.
Lies
By Damien Leech (23rd January 2006)
Lie more and more to cover it up,
So he'll become a very lonely pup.
I looked up 'to lie' in the English Dictionary,
It says: 'To make intentionally false statement',
I looked it up in French,
It said 'Mentir'
Anyway, fuck it, more beer.
A Winnie Nightmare
By Damien Leech (23rd Jan. 2006)
Winnie couldn't get a job,
So he didn't have money,
To buy honey,
So his wife left him.
She married someone with lots of honey money,
No money, no honey, no funny, no wife.
Winnie lost his self respect,
It wasn't hard to detect,
He lost his self esteem,
He thought he was having a bad dream.
Winnie got very sad,
He stopped going out with the lads,
They had lots of money to buy honey,
Winnie didn't think it was funny.
They offered him some of their honey money,
Winnie was to embarrassed to accept,
Walked home alone every night and wept,
Stayed in bed all day long with a broken heart,
From Mrs Winnie he had been taken apart.
Lonely Leprechauns
By Damien Leech (23rd Jan 2006)
The leprechaun was looking for his pot of gold,
Where it was he wasn't told,
They kept moving it on him,
And he went crazy,
Mrs Leprechaun got fed up and left him.
So the leprechaun went to the pub every night,
Got drunk and would sometimes fight,
It just wasn't right,
His gold he wanted which shone so bright.
Statistics
By Damien Leech (23rd January 2006)
They say men in relationships live longer,
It makes them stronger.
I better not make any long term plans so!
A Bad Dream about 'The Snow Queen'
By Damien Leech (23rd Jan. 2006)
The Snow Queen got Kay at 16,
Because an evil magician wanted between,
Gerda was not allowed to see him,
And the puzzle was never solved by magic,
A fairytale twisted,
Oh so tragic.
Terrorist Teddybears
By Damien Leech (23rd Jan 2006)
How do you make a teddybear into a terrorist?
Don't give him hugs.
How do you make a teddybear into a very bad terrorist?
Don't give him hugs and make him watch other teddybears getting lots of hugs.
He'll become a very angry teddybear.
Raging Bulls
By Damien Leech (20th January 2006)
Sanctions were imposed,
Well before any of it started,
They were interested in Irish innocence.
Why?
I'm like Iraq,
Because of a quack,
There's no way back.
Why were sanctions incurred?
They had their life,
Is that a reason to be perturbed?
Is that a reason to be disturbed?
They had their life.
What are they expecting?
Jesus?
I'm not Jesus.
The World Wide Attack Matrix,
They had their girl put on me a hex,
The New American Century,
What's your hurry?
What are you trying to bury?
STRESS
By damien leech (Summer 2005)
Stress, Stress, stress, stress,
I need a woman in a red dress.
THE DOG
By Damien Leech - 5/5/02
A dog is born a silly little pup,
He licks everything and everyone,
And runs a wobbly walk of joy and happiness,
Little tale of fur sticking in the air.
Then that dog grows big,
Cruel boys kick it when it comes to say hello,
And that dog does not understand,
licks his bruises and looks with confused eyes.
Then those men kick it more,
He stops to lick people's hands,
But now growls at the world,
And one day he bites a child,
And that dog is shot in the head and he knows not why.
The Bee
Written by Damien Leech
In May or June the bee appears,
He drifts timidly, quietly and lazily from flower to flower,
Not quite sure why he's there,
Plants just beginning to bloom in the crisp spring air,
As the sun climbs up the sky.
Days get longer,
Birds sing louder in their Morning chatter,
In France crickets start their nightly ricket,
Chairs are moved outside,
And beer glasses begin to tinkle as the evenings draw longer.
Dogs twitch their ears and flick their tales,
Letting him know his presence is not desired,
They are afterall sleeping in the heat of the sun on the warm dust,
He stays well away from cats,
Summer goes on and his friends appear,
More and more busily they work assured of their place as nature's
messengers,
Buzzing flower to flower on they go,
And where he sleeps? - Nobody knows.
A few sent spiraling to the ground with damaged wings,
As builders brush them away - wary of their sting,
When they approached their refreshments,
They are looking for sweet things.
Sometimes people step on the striped little creatures after a crash
landing,
And when he's hurt and angry he gives them something to remember him by,
Bumble bee brothers can pack a punch too,
When forced to sting, weakened and sometimes die.
Some have a short summer,
They dry up and disappear behind a window pane,
Having given up trying to escape,
They had fallen for the scent of sugar.
Then the sun dips a little in the sky,
The days shorten a little as night comes sooner,
He begins to get tired,
His friends a little weary too.
Children don't like them but find them interesting,
As they land on their ice-cream cones late in the evening,
And they call out to a parent who flicks him away saying:
'Stay away he's angry because the summer is over.'
8/4/03
CONSTRUCTION
(By Damien Leech 9th Jan 2006)
The bricks were carefully placed,
Poetry and Shakespeare,
Maths and science,
Sports coaching and religious teaching,
And trips to Knock,
French and Latin,
History and geography,
Hollywood movies and bedtime stories,
2 month holidays on the beach in France,
Trips to see space rockets in Houston, Texas,
Chris De Burgh, Tolkien and C.S Lewis,
Stars Wars and Ghostbusters.
What does he want the most now?
A good wife.
A man needs his wife like a baby needs his mother,
The girls were carefully briefed.
Make him trust you,
Then when you are in his air space,
Fly into the structure and his heart,
Land those planes as hard as you can,
And do as much damage as possible,
And hopefully the structure will crumble and he'll have a breakdown.
If he calls you, don't call him back and hopefully he'll get paranoid,
He should come crashing down like Othello.
Why on Earth would you do such a thing?
An Irish heart and mind is a precious thing,
What about all those years of building?
Because we have to give him the treatment he needs,
We can't give him the treatment unless he breaks down,
So we can go to work,
You have to crack and break the bone to reset it in the right way,
And women are the way to his heart,
The sweeter the relationship the more venomous the sting has to be,
The more he opens up the more we can hurt him.
Is that not like teasing a child with his favourite toy?
Leprechauns
By Damien Leech (9th Jan 2006)
My little brother and I,
Went looking for leprechauns in a field,
In the Arran Islands,
After ten pints of Guinness.
We didn't find any,
So we went back to the B&B.
Star Wars
By Damien Leech (9th Jan 2006)
"Join the Dark Side."
No
"Then die by ECT."
Walter Mitty's Submarine
By Damien Leech (10th Jan 2006)
"Captain, we need a date for Saturday night",
"Ok, send that girl we met the other night a text".
"She didn't reply",
"Ok send her an email."
"She didn't reply",
"God damn it,
Maybe the texts and emails aren't being sent,
Send out a ping and check our depth with the sonar."
"We sent out the signal but we didn't get a ping Sir",
"Ok, our systems must not be working,
The messages are obviously not being received,
The enemy must be jamming our communication systems,
Open up tube doors 2 and 4 and take out the nearest sub."
I was going to my course at the day hospital. I was off the injections of depixol thank God. I was taking 15mg of olanzapine (Zyprexa) and 75mg of Efexor (anti depressant). The old psychiatrist, Dr O Reilly had come back. I hated her. I thought she was a butcher. I knew that the psychiatrists wanted me on the injections so I was on tender hooks. At my last meeting with the doctors they told me that I had to take the injections but I said that I felt fine and that I was happy enough on the Olanzapine. They let me go. I was living in constant fear that they would put me back in hospital. It wouldnt be the end of the world as long as I went in as a voluntary patient and then I could refuse medication. The law is that if you go in as a voluntary patient you can refuse medication. If you go in as an involuntary patient, committed, you are fucked. They can force you to take medication. You are worse off than a prisoner.
I had just finished reading “The Centre Cannot Hold” by Ellen Sacks. It was a brilliant book. All about how she battled with Schizophrenia. She had been in and out of hospital until she accepted that she needed medication. She wrote that schizophrenia was a detachment from reality.
Myself and Ellen understand each other. We both suffer from shizophrenia and we both get pannick attacks.
I went to see my psychologist one day. He was so negative. I told him that I was getting married, opening a shop and going to the Canaries in a month. He said I was high. I was threatened with hospital.
To lift my spirits myself and Ellen took off to Bundoran in Donegal in the North of Ireland. We took the bus to Dublin, train to Sligo and then bussed it to Bundoran. We stayed in Turf and Surf Hostel. We got a lovely double room with ensuite bathroom so we could take a hot shower after surfing. We went to The Bridge Bar every night for something to eat. We surfed twice. We went for walks. We met Richie Fitzgerald who owns a surf shop in Bundoran. He gave me the number of a surf clothing supplier. We had an absolutely brilliant time. When the weekend was over we took the bus back to Sligo and then took the train back to Dublin and then bus again back to Navan.
There were and are some great characters in my family.
My younger brother – He grew up in Navan. He went to Scoil Mhuire and then St Pats. He then went to Trinity College Dublin to study English and Drama. He got very interested in music while in college and started a band called the Fluid Druids. They travelled all over Europe and had a great time. He then formed a new band called the 747s. They got a publishing deal. Its possible to buy his album in the shops. The band then fell out and he yet again started a new band called The Lost Brothers which is a two piece band. They have two albums in the shops.
My grandmother, my mother’s mother, was amazing. She grew up in Buncrana. Her family were millionaires. Her father ran half the town. She worked in the Plaza Ballroom in Buncrana as a teenager and also sang there. She grew up during the second world war. Her husband Jim came to the Plaza one night and fancied her. He ripped 50 pounds in half and gave her one half. He said that she would get the other half when she danced with him. They were married a year later. My granny was so cool. Her husband started drinking very heavily and she would get fed up with him and go off to Glasgow to stay with relatives and then she would come back. Her and her husband had no money so her mother bought her a house - the Greenbay house on the main street in Buncrana. She used to bring me out in the pram as a baby and we would go down by the sea. I was with her when I said my first words – “Bee” and “pop”. Every time I would come up to Buncrana on holidays she would hand me 50 euros and tell me to go to the shop an buy her 20 silcut purple and get myself 20 marlboro and buy her a nagon of whiskey and get a bottle of wine for myself. I loved her so much. My grandmother died of cancer.
My grandfather Jim was a very interesting character. He joined the British airforce during the second world war. He then got scared and pretended to be crazy. He crashed a plane on the ground. He did not want to die during the Battle of Britain. He came to Buncrana where he married my granny. They lived together in the Greenbay House. He was an alcaholic and would spend all day in O’Flahertys Pub. He opened a furniture shop. He employed someone to mind the shop. When a customer would come in and show interest in a piece of furnitiure the shop assistant would go up to the pub and ask my grandfather how much he should charge. Then when he sold it he would bring the money up to the pub and Jim would buy more drink. He died of cancer in Buncrana years ago. So there is some of the great characters in my family. Now back to my story!
I was living with the constant fear of panic attacks. I was an alcaholic and needed alcahol but when I drank the anti psychotic medication stopped working and I became extremely paranoid. No shit!?
I was still trying to open the shop. My fiance siad she would go garantaur on a loan for me so I could open. The supplier of Billabong tshirts said he would take a minimum purchase of 2000 euros. The rent on the shops ranged from 100 euros per unit to 500 euros. To get the loan I had to have 1000 euros in my account and then my garantaur had to have an account in the bank. So I had to organise all of that.
I met my sister one day with her boyfriend and Ellen in the Newgrange Hotel. She was so negative. She tried to talk Ellen out of going gaurantaur on my loan. I was so angry with her. My shop was in doubt.
I was still living in fear of the psychiatrists. I was on a natural high. I was opening a shop, going to the canaries in 2 weeks and getting married. The psychologist I saw thought I was high and then the nurse said that when poeple are high they sometimes have to spend some time in hospital. I was terrified. Although hospital wasnt all that bad. It was just boring. Smoking, pacing the corridors, playing pool etc. I didnt want to go to hospital. My brother told me to act depressed and they wouldnt put me in hospital. I went to see the psychiatrist and he asked me were my thoughts racing. I said no. They had been. He asked me what I had been doing recently. I said I had been surfing in Bundoran with my girlfriend. He was impressed. He asked me what medication I was on. I told him I was on 15mg of Olanzapine anti-psychotic medication to stop the voices and paranoia. He then went downstairs to talk to the head psychiatrist. I was shiting it. He came back into the room and said ok cool you are free to go. I was so relieved.
My girlfriend, Ellen had moved in with me. I was writing my book every day and would then spend the rest of the day in the pub. We would sometimes go to the pool. We would get a sauna and jacuzzi. It was so relaxing but I still wasnt happy. I wouldn’t be happy until I had made a million on my book, sold the film rights to Hollywood and was living in Lacanau-Ocean in the Southwest of France or LA. I wanted to have a boat in Puerto Banus, a mercedes E class, an Audi TT and 5 children. My book was my ticket out.
Ellen had moved in with me now. But she had no medication so we had to go to Dublin to get it. We took the bus to Dublin and then met her mother who gave us the medication. Ellen suffered from exactly the same thing I had, schizophrenia and depression. We both got regular panic attacks. But what caused our schizophrenia. The answer is sex. She had an Italian boyfriend who broke it off with her on her birthday. I had an Italian girlfriend who had a threesome in Italy behind my back after I left her out to the airport. Myself and Ellen were people who had been deeply hurt in the past. This opens a door in the mind like a medium. The only way to recover is sexual healing and prayer. When I’m having a panic attack I pray and pray and pray. Freud was right. The core of the human person is sex. Any deviation or hurt can cause mental illness.
I bought a new blackberry mobile phone. It was great. I could send emails on the move. My uncle in Chicago who now lives in Doha, Quatar, Middle East has one. Its a real status symbol.
I was a bit worried about my friend Margaret. She’s a very good looking girl who’s on social welfare and has no money. She’s very vulnerable. She got into modelling through the internet and now her phone is off. I just hope and pray that she didnt get involved in pornography.
I was drinking a lot. But because Ellen was living with me I had to hide it. She was trying to get me off alcahol. I would go to O Briens offlicense, buy a bottle of wine come back to my building, hide the wine under the hoover in the hallway. Then I would come back down and hide the wine in the back of my jeans. I would then sneak the wine into my apartment and drink it on the sly. I could not go for two weeks without a serious drinking session.
Its 3 o clock on good Friday. I feel panicky. 2000 years ago Jesus Christ was crucified. When he died there was an eathquake. The soldiers got scared.
Jesus had been betrayed by almost everyone he knew. The same as me. I am so religious. 3 days later on Easter Sunday he rose from the dead. He pushed the stone on his tomb aside and walked out. He went to see The Apostles. God is all powerful and I pray to him every day. On 9/11 2001 the devil crucified The United States. I visited the site of 9/11. Its like being in Aushwitz. The sadness is palpable. I almost burst into tears but I contained it and made it to the nearest pub where I consumed massive doses of alcahol. Whoever did that to the United States should burn in hell for the rest of eternity. It was satanic. Their economy crashed. It had broken the hearts of the most powerful nation on Earth. But please God they have bounced back. I remember taking flights after 9/11 and I cried for the whole journey. Flying is so romantic but the devil had desecrated one of the most beautiful things on earth. In my opinion the only way The United States will recover is with prayer. I think that they should build A Church on the site of 9/11.
I bought The Passion of Christ directed by Mel Gibson. The film covers the time leading up to The Crucifixion and the event itself. If I was a film maker I would make a film about Jesus. I would use special affects to show Jesus waking up and moving the stone away from his tomb and then going to see The Apostles and then his assention into Heaven. It would make an amazing movie.
My apartment back in Navan was driving me crazy. The restaurants next door kept making noise. They were throwing glass bottles into bins and cutting up boxes and chopping up vegetables.
I decided to meet Margaret. I phoned her and arranged to meet her under the clock at Easons on Wednesday at 4pm. I took the bus at 3pm after withdrawing my weekly disability money. Margaret phoned me on the bus and told me that she couldnt meet me. I was angry. When i arrived in Dublin I went into Madigans pub on O Connell St. For a double whiskey and coke. Then I went to the Templebar Bar. I started drinking Bulmers cider. I had pint after pint. I got drunk. I got a pannick attack. I was so tired. I needed to sleep. I tried to check into Barnacles Hostel. They said that it would be 74 Euros for the night. Then I went to Kinley House Hostel. They told me they had no beds. I thought someone was trying to kill me. I decided to go back to Navan. I made it home thank God. The next day I had a terrible hangover so I stayed in bed all day.
The community mental health services wanted to keep an eye on me so a nurse called out to see me. My uncles 50th birthday was coming up so when the day came myself and Ellen took the 5 o clock bus to Dublin. Then we took the Dart out to Sydney Parade. We then walked over to Strand Road where my uncle lived. I started drinking red wine. I then switched to beer. Then my brother arrived and took the beer off me. He didnt want me drinking. I was so angry but I accepted it. Myself and Ellen stayed there until 1am and then got a lift back to Navan with my mum. The next day we stayed in bed all day.
What was happening in the world? There was new violence in Afghanistan. The Taliban attacked American bases in Kabul. In Syria there was a revolution. The people were rising up against their President. The military was opening fire on their own civilians. The UN were sending in Independent observors.
I was looking forward to the summer. I would be teaching English to Spanish students. I would make about 4000 Euros. I would then use the money to go to Lacanau Ocean in the Southwest of France. Then I was planning to go to my cousins wedding in Cleveland and then fly down to LA and San Diego. Also my mother wanted to bring me to Lourdes in September. I was still planning to open the shop. I needed references. I was going to ask my local priest for one and also AIB bank.
I was going to the Canaries on holidays. Ellen was coming with me and she was also paying for it. The night before I left I phoned my father. Big mistake. He abused me psychosexually over the phone. It really upset me. I must remember to stay away from my father. To get my father out of my head I phoned my old english teacher from school. He is such a nice guy. That cheered me up.
I went to the Canary Islands. Myself, Ellen and my mum took the bus to Dublin airport. My mum was flying to London and myself and Ellen were flying off to the Canaries. I prayed the whole way to the islands. When we arrived we took the bus to our hotel. There was a beautiful pool. On the first night there we went out. We went to the rock cafe and then on down to Waikiki nightclub. We had a great night. The next day we just sunbathed by the pool and drank pina coladas. In fact we spent every day by the pool and went out almost every night. On the fourth day we decided that we didnt want to go home. We decided that I would look for a job. So we payed for another week. It only cost us 150 euros each for flight and accommodation. I started looking for a job. I wanted to find a job in journalism – television, radio, photography, teaching or barwork. I applied to the Canarian weekly and TV Canarias. I also applied to ABC in the USA for future reference. I applied to English schools. I applied to hotels. I didnt get any offers. I started to get depressed. We decided to fly home. When we landed we checked into The Radisson Hotel beside the airport. The next day we took the bus down to Navan.
I started to feel depressed. I had no motivation to do anything. We were sleeping until 4pm every day. I decided that I needed to go to hospital. I went to Accident and Emergency in Navan hospital. The psychiatrist there said I needed to go to hospital. She contacted St John Of Gods hospital in Dublin. They told her that they would have a bed for me within a week.
My mother and girlfriend convinced me that I didnt need to go into hospital. There was also a chance that if I went in I would miss my teaching post in Navan. So I phoned the hospital and told them that my mood had picked up and that I didnt need to go into hospital. They said ok. I had started taking my anti depressant, 75mg of Efexor and it was working. But I started drinking more and more. Eventually I was drinking from morning till night.
One night I had drunk 10 cans of Bulmers and I got a pannick attack. My girlfriend came into the kitchen to give me a hug and I told her that our relationship was over. She started crying. I also said that I hated my mother. My girlfriend knew there was something wrong and called my brother in London. He told her to go home. She did.
The next day we made up. I explained that I had had a pannick attack. We got back together. She hopped on a bus back to Navan. She told me that I needed help and should go into hospital. So I called St John of Gods and asked them for a bed. They said they had one. Lorena and I took the bus to Dublin and then took a taxi out to John of Gods in Stillorgan. When I arrived I thought the place was creepy. I saw the doctor and then I got a pannick attack. I got exremely paranoid and thought that everyone was persecuting me and trying to kill me. I tried to leave the hospital. The doctor asked me how I was going to get home. I told him I would take the 11pm bus. So he checked the times on the internet. It said on the internet that the last bus was 10pm. This didnt make sense as there was always an 11pm bus. I had been trapped in Europe before and the internet had been acting funny. Was the government trying to kill me again? The doctors convinced me to stay so I did.
I settled in and the doctors came up with a plan for me. They increased my Olanzapine, anti psychotic by 5mg to 15mg. I couldn’t take it all at night because it gave me restless arm and leg syndrome so I took 5mg at lunch time and then 10mg at night. They said they wanted to get rid of my psychotic symptoms and persecutory ideation. They said they wanted to get my old notes from Navan Hosptial and St Pats. They said they wanted to do a brain scan. They also wanted me to give up the booze.
My teaching post was coming up so I phoned the Navan School of Languages. Unfortunately the manager said that student numbers were down and that she could not offer me a job. It suited me fine. I decided that when i got out of hospital I would go to Lacanau in the southwest of france to live. I couldn’t wait.
So I was in St John of God’s. I was bored stiff apart from writing this book.
Why do I have no money? When I finished my degree in journalism i could not get a job as a journaliist. And now I can not get a job in anything. I suspect that the Irish government are preventing me from getting a job to keep me in the country. My family is so rich. Why dont they give me some money. Its so unfair.
Am I well? No I’m not. I’m an alcaholic and I have psychological problems. I pray all day long for my sexuality. I am sick of being locked up in psychiatric hospitals.
I’m not sure if Ellen is the right girl for me. She really gets on my nerves sometimes. When I am having a panic attack she hurts me much like my father. Lacanau Ocean here I come in the summer.
I told the nurse about my father abusing me psychologically. She was quite nice. Just as she left Dr Punjab in navan called me. She asked me why i wanted to come back to the psychiatric servises in navan. I really had to push myself to answer her. I sacraficed my sexuality to get an answer. I said that im bored in hospital. I wonder did she do it deliberately. I dont think that doctor punjab wants me to be impotent. Maybe she has some Indian power to make me impotent. I feel very very depressed but i prayed to god to restore and protect my sexuality. I always pray that god will protect my sexuality and i am sure that he will. I would like to take legal action against my father for abusing me psychologically all my life. I called a solicitor in navan but they didnt get back to me.
This hospital is full of people that have been abused by their families.Why do none of my ex girlfriends call or write to me. Why do none of my old school mates call me. I am a prisoner.
Its 10.30am. I’m braindead because of the Olanzapine. As soon as I get out of hospital I am going to emigrate to Lacanau and Bordeaux. I am feeling very depressed because I am worried that I am impotent. But that is unfounded. I have made love to my girlfriend recently. She is giving me the cold shoulder now that I am in hospital. Hopefully some day this book will be made into a film and people will know the truth. I could go to The States. CNN sent me an email with a joblink so maybe they will give me a job. That would be perfect.
The sooner I get out of this country the better. The irish people are jealous of me. They have been jealous of me since I was a child which explains why I am in such a mess now.
I just got off the phone with my mother. I told her that I had a job in Lacanau for the summer.
I was walking up and down the corridor there. Then i went for a cigarrette. I came out of the smoking room and heard a door locking. I hate that. It made me thirsty and i went for a glass of water. Then i thought that the water could make me impotent.
I hate Enda Kenny, the current Prime Minister of Ireland and the previous president of France. I was watching the news one day and I saw them motion first you and then me. I thought they were refering to having sex with Roxanna, an escort girl that I met.
When I put up on my website “Was 9/11 a ransom for Oscar, Damien Leech?” I met an old man in Isaacs youth hostel in Dublin. He figured out that I was very sensitive to sound. The Irish wanted revenge and they then started to torture me with me sound. For example in my apartment the fridge keeps making noise and the restaurant next door keeps making noises. I got paranoid that the television and radio stations had electronic surveillance on my apartment eg cctv.
I am so bored. My soul is starting to cry because im locked up. I’m like a bird in a cage.
Bryan Adams is playing on the radio. It reminds me of one of my ex girlfriends. She used to work in the local shop. I fancied her the moment I saw her. I went out to the Ardboyne nightclub one night in Navan and spotted her. I asked her to dance. Before long we were kissing. I went out with her for about 3 months. She used to phone my house before school and we would kiss. My friends were so jealous of me because they had no girlfriends. But she had buck teeth and every time we would kiss i would get a swolen lip. The Irish keep setting me up with dodgy girls. They hate me. She was also vulgar. It was fuck this and fuck that. So one day before school I broke it off with her. It was one of the most difficult things I ever did. After that she wrote to me and tried to get back with me but I didnt want to. It was over. Later on when the Irish persecution became serious I tried to get back with her but she turned me down.
They set me up with another dodgy girl from Derry. She wouldnt have sex with me and she would always start a fight every time I went out with my cousins in Donegal.
The German girl living in London that I met told me that she was bringing a package to London. But I loved her and blocked it out. Then she cheated on me. Then we broke up, got back together. Then she told me that if I stopped drinking she would marry me. I stopped drinking. Then she broke it off with me.
There is a lot of numbers that I dislike. The number 1 represents Bonos song “One”. The no 2 reminds me of intrusive images I had and a sin I committed in the past. The number 3 is The Blessed Trinity which I like. The number 4 I dont like as 4 gardai walked by me in Dublin when I put up on my website “Was 9/11 a ransom for Oscar, Damien Leech?”. The number 5 is next to the number 6 666. The number 6 I dont like because of 666, the omen. My name is Damien like the omen. The number 7 is the age I went to America which I like. The number 8 reminds me of a sin I committed in the past. The number 9 means no in german which suggests that I cant have a girlfriend. The number 10 is my friends number in basketball so I like that. The number 11 is my elder brothers number in basketball. I dont like that because I’m angry with him because I think he stole money off me. The no 12 is the twelve apostles which I like. The number 13 is Friday the 13th which I dont like. The number 14 is not 18 which is the age I developed fully sexually. The number 15 is beside the number 16 which is in one of my poems. The number 17 is the age I developed schizophrenia. The number 18 is the number I developed fully sexually so I like that number. The number 19 has the number 9 in it. The number 20 is ok. The number 21 reminds me of a sin I committed in the past. The number 22 is a number that an Irish social worker abused me psychologically with. The number 23 is Michael Jordans number. Air Jordan. I had waking nightmares about the bottom of a plane coming out and falling. I also had waking nightmares about being in a liftshaft after watching Die Hard. The number 24 reminds me of my mother for some reason which I like. The number 25 is beside 26. I dont like the number 26 because I stayed in room 26 in a hostel which used to be an old hospital. It was a nightmare. 33 is the age that Christ was crucified. So my life is hell because of all these negative associations.
I miss Emily Walsh. I met her in Venice and fell madly in love with her. But she cheated on me right in front of me. She was so wild. She came to Dublin. I collected her and her friend at the airport. I had booked a hotel for us but she didnt want to stay there. I had already payed for the hotel. She asked me to come and stay in a hostel with her and her friend but I took offence because I had already payed for the hotel. I left her at the door of hostel and said.
“I’ll see you in three years.”
She said: “Damien, dont say that.”
I left. I never saw her since. I have been looking for her ever since.
Another girl that I also loved was Suzie from Sydney. I met her in The Auld Dubliner pub in Templebar. We fell in love. We went back to my apartment and made love. Then she went travelling around Europe. I was still going out with Lorena, the Italian girl from Sardinia. The Australian girl came back to Dublin and I met her in the pub opposite Bus Arais. She was all tanned and beautiful. We made love again. The next day she went back to Sydney. We stayed in touch by email. I told her that I felt empty inside without her. She invited me to Sydney. I looked for a job in Ireland to finance the trip but sad old irish story. I couldnt find a job. She married somebody else.
The same thing happened with an English girl from Leicster. I met her in Club M in Templebar. We fell in love. She went back to Leicster. She invited me over. My father stopped my allowance and I couldnt afford to visit her. I eventually made it over to Oxford with my family. Liana, the girl from Leicster offered to drive through Oxford, pick me up and drive me down to Cornwall for the lunar eclipse. But yet again I had no money and could not afford to go with her. I lost her. She married someone else. I have never had the money to do what I need to do. So maybe some day if I get this book published and its made into a film I will be able to do the things I need and want to do. But I think that I’m a prisoner of the Irish government and they will not let me go.
I just phoned my old english teacher from school. I told him that I had written 30,000 words and that I had phoned the agent in New York to tell them. I was working towards 60000 words which is what they need to publish. I dont know if they will publish or not but I hope they do. I will send the book to England, America, Australia and Europe.
I just got off the phone to Ellen. She is in St Pats. So we are both in Psychiatric hospitals. She is so sweet, gentle and loving. And she has loads of money.
I have been traumatised so much. In 2006 I was committed in Portugal. Before that I was having a whale of a time. I always promised myself that i would go back to Portugal to live so in 2007 I travelled to Porto. I stayed there for a week and then i took the train down to Lisbon. I stayed at the four seasons hotel. My friend lars came over from ireland and met me there. He worked in the four seasons in dublin so we got to stay in the hotel for free. Lars had met two girls on the internet and we met them in Lisbon. They were gorgeous. I wasnt well because i wasnt taking my medication and I had no money. The girls didnt like me and they went off with Lars. I think he might have had a threesome with them. Im not sure. Anyway the next day lars and i went to ericeira on the coast. We went to a bar. Lars started chatting up a girl. I got jealous and left. Lars and i fell out. I didnt see him for the rest of the week. My mum came over from Ireland. She was in very bad form. It came to the end of the week and Lars and my mum went home. It was time for me to continue my journey. I took the bus back to Lisbon. I was travelling south. There was some confusion over train times. Europe again – the fog of war. I eventually got a train to Lagos but I didnt get in until very late. When I arrived I got lost because it was so late. I eventually found the hostel but they were full. I cant remember because it was so traumatising but I eventually found somewhere to stay. After 4 days I ran out of money. Every time I ate in a restaurant I would go back the next day and it would be shut. I went into a bar for a drink and I think a solicitor arrived with papers and served them on the beautiful girl behind the counter. They were probably recruiting girls for porn. My paranoid schizophrenia diagnosis is designed to keep me quiet. Anyway after four days I was starving. I went down to another bar. I asked for a drink of water. And in they walked, two irish guys. They started buying drinks for the whole bar. I got drunk and my apetite which was gone came back. They took me for something to eat.
Anyway it came to the end of the week and I was travelling south again. Oh yeah I forgot to tell you. While i was in Lagos I received a call from Ireland. It was one of the girls who was minding my apartment. She told me that the flat had been broken into and robbed and ransacked. She asked me did i want to come home. I said no that i was continueing my journey. My apartment on North Circular road was broken into five times while i was there. There was someone out to get me. Anyway i was travelling south again. I took the bus from lagos across the border into spain. I stopped in Huelva. While I had been on the bus someone had tried to steel my suitcase by putting a similiar suitcase onboard. Anyway I arrived in Huelva and found a guesthouse. I went out for a drink and met some very strange people. When I was in bed that night I heard alsatian dogs barking and growling in the room above me. There was something very strange going on. I knew Europe were annoyed with me for my Osama Bin Laden theory.
The next day I went to the bus station to get a bus to Cadiz. Again there was confusion over bus times. I eventually got a bus. When I arrived in Cadiz there was some kind of protest going on. There were thousands of young people protesting. I thought it was for me. The female bus driver didnt know where she was going. We eventually got to the port area of Cadiz. It was a kip. An English woman tried to befriend me on the bus and offer me somewhere to stay but i turned her down. I eventually found somewhere to stay which was like a brothel. I turned on the television that night and saw a beautiful girl that I think I had seen in Lagos being sexually abused by two British guys. I went into shock and curled up in bed. I heard strange noises outside my room like they were murdering people. The next day I got out of town. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I took the bus back to Seville and had decided that it was home time. I wanted to make my way back up the coast to Porto and fly home. When I got to Seville there was no connecting bus to Lagos until very late. I thought that The government was definately trying to kill me. So I had to find somewhere to stay. I couldnt find somewhere to stay and I had only 40 euros in my pocket. The sun was beating down and I was carrying a heavy bag. I sat down at a cafe. There was a family sitting next to me. I asked them if I could borrow their phone to call my brother. I called him. He wired me 350 euros by Western Union. I collected the money. Then i went looking for a hostel. But all the hostels were 70 euros each. So i decided to go drinking. I went into a bar. An American guy came in and i started talking to him. I explained that i could not find a cheap hostel. He said follow me. He led me up winding streets. It was like a maze. We eventually got to a hostel. It was only 20 euros per week. It was weird. The people on the roof kept their feet in the pool for hours on end. The toilets were locked. There was an english girl who kept dropping an orange every time somebody tried to speak. I needed out of there. I phoned the Irish times and told them that there was something very strange going on. The next day an Irish doctor arrived. She was lovely. We went out for a drink together and there were prostitutes everywhere. The next day I got on the internet to buy a flight home but the Ryanair website was not working. I thought that The European government was definately trying to kill me. I phoned my brother. He got me a flight leaving in two days. My disability money came through. I took a taxi to the airport and flew home. When i got back to ireland I immediately checked into St Pats. I was so traumatised.
I just got off the phone with my father. He is an abusive bastard. I hate his guts. I asked him when he was calling out and he said: “We’ll see.”
I would love to take legal action against him for psychological abuse. He’s a fascist bastard.
Ellen and I both come from very wealthy families. Two Italian people got into our lives and destroyed it. We are both Irish American. The Europeans hate the Americans. They wanted to crucify the United States on the turn of The Millenium and they crucified me to get at them. I am an Irish American investment and they wanted to destroy it.
Its very difficult to have faith when your father is a bastard. One prays to one’s father in heaven but when one’s father on earth is an abuser its very difficult to imagine what one’s father in heaven is like. For example, I phoned my cousin in Dublin who is a journalist just now. But I got it into my head that by calling him I had made myself impotent. Why I dont know. It would take a genious to figure it out. Anyway i felt that I needed to pray. I knelt down and then I frose and i forgot if I had blessed myself or not. I thought that if I didnt bless myself then god would not restore and protect my sexuality. It comes from insecurity and lack of faith because my father has abused me so much. Anyway, my cousin is the coolest guy ever.
So I’m still in hospital. I am in detox from alcahol. Everybody here is very nice. The Irish aren’t so bad. I think the Gardai hate me. Ever since a guard had sex with my Italian girlfriend Lorena a division occurred between me and the gardai. I think that they thought I had dirt on them and I think that they are trying to kill me. I just got off the phone with my aunt from California. She is so nice. She’s a psychologist and very intelligent.
The Irish are using satanism on me. There’s a woman in visiting one of the patients. She is dressed up as a priest. My father used satanism on me when I was 16 and then the government started using it on me in 1996 and thereafter. They used it on me in St Pats. Fr Clavin told me to say an act of contrition and then pray to St Michael to protect me. I say an act of contrition and then I pray. I say:
“Oh my God, I thank you for loving me. I am sorry for all my sins. For not loving others and not loving you. Help me to live like Jesus and not sin again. Amen.”
And then I ask God for what I want.
If one goes into psychiatric hospital as a voluntary patient they dont have to take medication. But if they try to leave two doctors have to assess them. If the doctors decide that you are not fit to leave then they can commit you and keep you as an involuntary patient. If that happens they can force you to take medication. You are appointed a solicitor by The Mental Health Commission. Then within three weeks I think you are entitled to a tribunal which consists of you, your solicitor, your consultant, a lay person, an independent solicitor I think and an Independent Psychiatrist. Before the tribunal you are assessed by a different independent psychiatrist who writes a report and gives it to the tribunal. If the patient wins the tribunal they are free to leave hospital immediately. The way to win the tribunal I have learned from experience is to say that you will take your medication if they make you a voluntary patient.
When I was a kid I was so happy. All I could think about was how I was going to get to Buncranna to play with my cousins. We used to have gangs. There was the boys gang and the girls gang. We used to always fight about who would be the leader. I get so angry when I think about what has happened to my family. Was it Europe, America, or England that wanted to destroy my family? Is it the invasion of Ireland? The vikings?
I just phoned my uncle. He says he’s suicidal. He lives on 200 euros a week disability money like me. He has no job. So he has nothing to live for. He’s an alcaholic but has been dry for 2 years. He’s the nicest guy you could ever meet. My father bullies him aswell. He used to live with his mother in Ranelagh. She died recently. One night my uncle and grandmother phoned my father and asked him to buy them some tea and milk. He said no. My father is an absolute bastard. I hate him.
I called my uncle in Donegal about the woman dressed up as a priest. He told me that she was probably a protestant minister. I also reported him to the gardai for throwing a cup of water over me in bed. Every single time I go to Donegal they abuse me. The last time i went i had to call an ambulance. They terrorise me. When I was in New York they got one of the strippers to ask me what time it was. They used to ask me what time it was all the time in Donegal. When I was in Miami they got someone to leave a rose on the table outside a bar. I went into the bar and there was a beautiful girl there who I tried to chat up. But the rose had upset me because it reminded me of my family in Donegal. They had told me a story about a rose. When I was on my way to London to see my German girlfriend they sent me a horrible text or said something horrible on the phone. I cant remember.
I feel a pannick attack coming on. A new girl came onto the ward and I hadnt said father kelly so I think she is going to make me impotent. Its rediculous.
There probably going to try to put me on an injection of anti psychotic medication. But i wont let them as it totally fucks me up. I get exteme panic attacks with it. My problem is extreme anxiety and depression.
I am getting paranoid. They are in my phone, my laptop and my apartment.
I dont like locks or doors because I have been locked up so much. If I bow my head or bend my knee I have to say to myself “I bow before God”.
Somebody just came into the ward that looked like my uncle.
After my father hurt me psychologically when i was 16 I got very depressed and then developed schizophrenia. I remember putting on my school uniform one morning when i was seventeen and I started having intrusive images. I was very stressed also because my father was putting me under pressure to remember my orthodentist appointments. I knew that if I missed an appointment he would lose his temper and I was terrified of him and still am.
Those 3 punches on the head really fucked me up!!! Did my father put the hit on me back when i was an intelligent teenager?
When I get a pannick attack its like splitting the atom and a nuclear explosion – Bono’s album – “How to dismantle an Atomic Bomb.” I give off weird energy. I think everybody is trying to kill me. All I can do is get into bed and listen to love music. It sometimes takes me hours to come around. The doctor in St Pats forced me to take 80mg of depixol and ever since then I have had pannick attacks. Its permanent. I would love to sue him. My girlfriend, Ellen took injections of Respiradol and she also has permanent pannick attacks. Why is there not more publicity about this in the media?
My father just called in. He brought me two packets of Marlboro Red. He’s not so bad. I love my dad but he has psychological or psychiatric problems and he takes it out on other people. While he was here I kept saying “Fr kelly, Fr Kelly” because I was scared of becoming impotent. My aunt from California said to me today “ Damien, you are not going to become impotent.” It calmed me down for about an hour but then I started again.
My mum is calling in today. She is bringing cigarettes and my earphones so I can listen to music. I need my music.
Alcahol has been a huge problem for me. I was drinking a lot in The Canaries and then when I came back I got depressed and started drinking more and more. In the first week in The Canary Islands I just relaxed but in the second week I looked for a job and when I didnt get one I got depressed. So when I got back to Ireland I started drinking more and more. Just before I came into hospital I was drinking about 15 cans of Bulmers a day. I was drinking from when I got up until I went to bed. So I am hoping to do the alcahol programme here in hospital. I have lost about 3 jobs and 3 girlfriends because of alcahol. When I drink I do nothing. So i really have to stop.
I feel sick right now. I came out of the smoking room and I did a deal with myself. I said to myself if the tennis is on I will become impotent. It is on. So now I am worried that the tennis will make me impotent. I feel like I want to vomit. Its rediculous though. Its not reality so I should pay no attention to it or give it any credability.
I phoned my mum to collect my coat off Ellen in St Pats. She told me that she was walking the dog. Then she told me that the dog was doing a poo so she had to go. I got paranoid that she was implying that my book was shit. Am i paranoid or is it real? I dont know. I was talking to my cousin, the journalist. He gives me hope. He’s so liberal. My mum is calling in in about an hour. I am looking forward to seeing her.
Germany is taking over. Spain now needs a 40 billion euro bailout for their banks. My granny in Donegal always said that if you want to take over a country first of all you corrupt their morality. Then you bankrupt them. You dont have to lift a finger to invade.
I miss my first girlfriend Sara Gustavson from Sweden. She was my uncles au pair. I was seventeen. On our first date we went to Templebar and had dinner. I kissed her for the first time outside the restaurant. Then I walked her home to my uncles house in Sandymount. Before we reached the house we went into a little wooded park. I kissed and touched her breasts. I loved her so much but she broke it off with me. Why???
Mr Wallace the Irish politician has been nailed for tax evasion. They were out to get him because he is so outspoken. He is also a builder. He put up a massive banner on the scaffolding of one of his buildings saying “Dont invade Iraq” or something like that. I feel so sorry for him.
I went to see “The Dictator” with Ali G recently. Its hilarious. He made a political comment about where is all the oil in Iraq going and that Nato justs wants to invade the middle east for their natural resources. I think England wants to restart the British Empire invading countries etc.
The priest called by today. I had a great chat with him. He told me that God is love and his love is unconditional. I said “Fr Kelly” 3 times and then i got worried because its six words. 666. How rediculous is that. I had a great conversation with him. Then my girlfriend kept phoning. I answered and she said that she hears a voice telling her to jump out the window. The priest left. I was really pissed off because I didnt get to finish my conversation. I wont let the devil win.
I am getting out of this country. I saw the doctors this morning. They want to transfare me to St Peters a secure ward. They will probably try to drug me up to the eye balls but I wont let them.
I am still worried about becoming impotent. That is the main reason for my stress.
I saw a Spanish psychiatrist today. She put me into Special Care, St Peters ward. I walked up and down the small corridor from morning till night.
A bad memory is a sign of depression. So i have been depressed since i was 16. At 17 the schizophrenia or whatever you want to call it started.
The problem that i am suffering from now is not being able to sleep and anxiety. I dont think its paranoid schizophrenia which is my diagnosis. Ellens friend came here suffering from serious depression. She had been diagnosed as schizophrenic. Here in st john of gods they rediagnosed her as having chronic anxiety. I am hoping to get the same diagnosis. So i should stay here instead of transfaring to st pats.
I was listening to the fm104 radio station last night. The radio presenter said:
“Now we are going to play noddy’s theme tune: “I’m A Creep”.”
I think he was talking about me. I could sue them. Now the Irish people are insulting me on the radio. I have to get out of this country. I’m going to go to France for a while. Then when Barrack Obama is out of office i might go to The States. Or is he my friend? – “The Bourne Identity!” I’ll stay here in this hospital for another 2 or three months until i get better and then go to france when all the crowds are gone.
I hope this book is made into a film some day and I will make lots of money. The theme music I would have for the film
would be Enrique Iglesias and Akon.
I’m scared of glass. My mother wrote a story about a bat in a jar while we were in Portugal. Now I am scared that my sexuality could get stuck behind the glass. Thats schizophrenia. There is no cure for it without medication?
Being on some of the anti psychotic injections is like being in jail in your mind. Its worse than physical jail.
When i was in st peters they diagnosed me with mild to severe depression. The medication for that is anti depressants but they can cause sexual dysfunction eg. Not being able to get an erection or have an orgasm. Maybe i could find a natural remedy. There’s a herbalist in navan that I could go and see. His name is pat boylan I think. He used to be the trainer or manager of the Meath gaelic football team.
While I was in st peters ward I wrote some poems. Here they are:
My Parents Seperation
Sitting in a circle on the grass at Le Havre harbour in France,
“Your mother and I are going to seperate.”
My heart jumped and then sank,
I got a sickening feeling in my stomach,
My life was never the same again.
My Grandfather Jim
A pint of Guinness and a whiskey chaser in O’Flaherty’s pub,
High political conversations across the bar,
Three newspapers,
My grandfather owned an antique shop but he lived in the pub,
He employed a salesman for the pub,
The salesman would come up to the pub,
“How much will I sell that chest of drawers for Jim?”
“Ah sell it for a hundred and bring me the money.”
When the pub closed he would go home to his wife Mae,
He would have a strong cup of tea.
My Granny Mae
“Damien, here’s fifty.
Go up to the offlicense.
Get me a nagon of whiskey and a packet of Purple Silkcut.
Get yourself cigarettes and a couple of beers.”
I would come back and we would sit by the fire chatting or watching action movies,
She loved action movies.
Smokey Granny
80 cigarettes a day,
And The Irish Times.
I’m thinking of leaving hospital. I might ask the doctor tomorrow if I can leave. I’ll say: “I want to leave.”
He will probably say:”I don’t think you are ready or well enough to leave.”
I’ll say: “ok”.
If I push it he would get a second doctor to assess me. That doctor invariably agrees with the first doctor and I would become involuntary. Then I could be drugged against my will and detained indefinately. I dont want this to happen.
I can’t wait to get to Lacanau. It will be so beautiful. The pine trees surrounding the town. And the beach. When Ellen gets out of hospital next week she will be able to put some pressure on the doctors to get me out so we can go to France. It will be like the end of ‘The Bourne Identity’.
My life in Ireland is awful – no job and depression. I’m so bored. At the moment I’m on 5mg of Olanzapine anti psychotic medication at 6pm and 10mg at 10pm. That’s 15mg which is a heavy dose. I’m also on 150mg of antidepressant called Efexor. The doctor doubled it from 75mg. I was masturbating last night and I found it incredibly difficult to achieve an orgasm. Its the anti depressant that is causing the problem. I might ask him to reduce it back to 75mg. I also woke up at 4am for some reason.
I was talking to the priest today. I got confession and told him that I was thinking of trying to escape from the hospital. He said:
“Damien, that would be pure stupidity.”
He’s such a lovely man. I’m becoming very good friends with him.
The Irish Advocacy Network just called in to see me. The guy looked like Bono. We had a good chat and I told him that I was writing this book. I read him out the first paragraph and he liked it. When I told him that he looked like Bono he said
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I hate Bono. In 2001 I went to the U2 concert in Slane. Myself and Lorena the Italian girl were in the process of splitting up and she was screwing half of Dublin. She phoned me on the way to the concert and I thought by the tone of her voice and intuition that she was going to the after party of the U2 concert. I think it was an orgy. Or maybe that is just my paranoid schizophrenia. The diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia is a trap because if anything out of the ordinary happens to me people dont believe me – “The boy who cried wolf!” They think its the paranoid schizophrenia acting up again. Lorena was cheating on me and any time I would acuse her of it she would say that I was crazy and paranoid.
I had a row with Ellen today. I accused her of going to Kildare Village to go shopping with my old school mate. She assured me that she was loyal. I still didnt believe her. Then she phoned me in tears because I didnt trust her. My paranoia has ruined all my relationships. The girls are actually cheating on me or I am just paranoid. Who knows?
When I was in Miami they used satanism on me. So much so that it was 30 degrees and the sun was shining down but there was a thick haze of darkness around me. There is a black guy here as a nurse who is from The Carabean. He said:
“Damien, so you want to go for a walk?”
I hadnt asked him to go for a walk. I think he was using satanism on me. When i got outside i felt like the sun was attacking me. An english guy then came out of the kitchen. He said:
“Damien, you can use the toilet now.”
I hadnt asked him to use the toilet. I told him that i had put on sun cream, Hawaiin Tropic because I like the smell of it. He said:
“Oh all the girls will love you. You are like a baby nice and soft.”
I thought he wanted to make my dick soft.
I went into the tea room to make a cup of tea and an Irish woman, a patient pushed past me and made herself a cup of tea ahead of me jumping the cue. I nearly lost my temper.
I can feel a pannick attack coming on. There is a good looking cleaning girl who i like. The irish hate me. They are trying to kill me. I need to get out of the country.
My brother just called me. He is in Kentucky, USA. He is over there working. I love my brother. He always saves me when I am in trouble. I am still sacraficing my sexuality. I find that when i sacrafice my sexuality I get intelligence. But i know that God is looking after me and that he wouldnt take my sexuality.
There’s a little Indian guy in here in the hospital. He has schizophrenia. He is on injections of invega. Every now and again he goes crazy and gets really angry at everyone much like me when i get a pannick attack. I have to be easier on myself when i get a pannic attack. The doctors want me to come off the Ativan. They say its very addictive. But I need it when I get a pannick attack.
Who else is here? There’s a guy who i think works for Amnesty International. He wears a Winnie The Pooh t shirt sometimes. I wrote about winne the pooh in my poetry which is published on The Irish Advocacy Network website. I must send my poems off to a publisher or make a little booklet of them myself and sell them on the street.
There’s a lot of black doctors in here. The Blacks always stick up for me because i’m disabled. I remember I watcher ‘Cry Freedom’ when I was a child. I ran home from the cinema afterwards to my mother and cried for an hour. It was about Steve Beko, the black activist in South Africa. The White South Africans murdered him. An English journalist got to know him before he died and wrote a book about him. He had to sneak out of the country with his family to London to get the book published. Its a great movie.
There’s also a girl in here who is trying to get onto the drug and alcaholism course but they wont let her onto the course because they are saying she is not stable enough. That is just the doctors trying to keep the hospital full. VHI health insurance must pay out a fortune every year to keep us all in hospital. Its something like 3000 euros a week in here. Imagine i had that money. I would go off to America, Australia or France and live it up. Hopefully when this book gets published and its made into a film i will get lots of money and be able to do what I want to do.
I would like to be a doctor. I would like to be a psychiatrist. It would be very dangerous if i got a crazy patient who tried to kill me. I was so angry with my psychiatrist in st pats when he put me on depixol. I would also like to be a solicitor. I love fighting for people’s rights. But when on medication i am not sharp enough.
There’s another guy in here. His name is mark. He had a row with his sisters and they committed him. How unfair is that. My little sister is a bit like that also. Any time I have a row with my family they say that i am not well and that i have to take more medication or go to hospital. But i did a relaxation and assertiveness course in Navan Day Hospital. They told me that when I get angry not to curse but to be polite but assertive – controlled anger.
I am so angry with my little brother. He told me that he was going to call my doctor and call me back. He didnt call me back. He always abusing me psychologically. My elder brother is on Sky News tomorrow. He is flying back from the US.
I went for a walk just now. I had a cup of tea outside the canteen and a cigarette. I bought The Sun newspaper for page 3 but the picture was not good. When i was coming back I thought about doing a runner. I have 180 euros in the bank. I could get a bus into town and then get a taxi to Navan. But I dont want to do that. I am sick of running away. I ran to Miami, New York, France, Portugal and Spain, got sick and had to come back. So this time i want to deal with my problems.
Theres a guy in my room called Willie. I’m paranoid that the irish are psychosexually abusing me again. My father raped me psychologically when i was 16 and the Irish have been doing it to me ever since. When i get better i really have to get out of this country for good. America is to dangerous under Obama so ill go to france until he goes and then hopefully go to america or i might stay in france.
I was in the smoking room having a cigarette. There were lots of people there. They were giving out the 6pm medication in the corridor. I didnt say “Fr Kelly” in time so I got upset. I took 5mg of Olanzapine. I felt like I was going to vomit. My body rejected the medication because i hadnt said “Fr Kelly” in time. I was worried that by taking the Olanzapine it would make me impotent. I dont know whats wrong with me. Its so upsetting.
There are children on the ward. They are in visiting their parents. Or maybe its the Irish trying to give me a panic attack. I’m to stressed at the moment to be around children.
I dont know where I get this fear of becoming impotent. I think it comes from a time when I was going out with a girl in Navan a few years back. She wanted to break up with me. I thought it was the IRA, Gardai and social workers trying to break us up so I pursued the relationship even though she was rejecting me. Back then I remember sacraficing my sexuality for the intelligence to keep the relationship going. I remember writing myself notes in my bedroom that she really loves me and its a third party trying to break us up. I went to hospital soon after then. She came to visit me. I remember feeling so depressed I was in physical pain. I nearly burst into tears but I didnt. Thats why i drink so much to kill the pain. My emotional pain and my psychological problems.
I cant wait to get to france. Myself and Ellen will fly with Ryanair or Air France to Paris and then take the train, the TGV, down to Bordeaux or else fly directly to Bordeaux. I dont want to fly with Aer Lingus because they are always rude to me. They almost didnt let me fly to the Canaries because my passport was tattered. That reminds me. I have to get a new passport before I go to the airport.
Who wants to put me in jail in my mind, physical jail or kill me? The Irish government are pissed off with me because I said that 9/11 was a ransom for me. It makes them look bad. Does the American government and the Europeans want to kill me? The last time I went to America and Europe people were not very nice to me.
The last time I was locked up in St Pats I escaped. I walked out the gate, walked down to Heuston Station and took a taxi to Navan. I payed for it when I got to Navan. I nearly had a heart attack because I was so excited and scared. But I wasnt well. The family doctor and The Gardai saved my life. If I try to escape from here, St John of Gods they would get the police after me. I told the doctors that I was having violent thoughts. The doctors are saying that I have psychotic symtoms. If they tell the Gardai that I would be picked up. The doctors are saying that they want the obsessional violent thoughts to go away.
Then they will start me on the alcaholism course. So the big question is are they going to heavily drug me? I’m scared. I’m so scared. I hate feeling trapped. Oh God I think I am going to have a pannick attack. I have to realise that the nurses and doctors want to help me so i shouldnt feel trapped. Its funny i dont feel like drinking at all. I have been trying to get onto an alcaholism recovery course for years. So i should grasp the opportunity now.
I wonder when they will let me out to wonder around the hospital. I want to print off this book so I can edit. I hope I get it published and then a director picks it up and makes it into a film. It would make a great movie – ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoos nest’/The Fugitive.
I was just talking to an old man in the smoking room. He looks like someone out of The Mafia. ‘Goodfellas’ or something. He told me that he took an overdose of painkillers. He wanted to die. I took an overdose aswell. One night I got a pannick attack in Dublin and thought that people were trying to kill me. When i got home I took my sleeping pills and ativan as prescribed. Then i woke up in the middle of the night. I put on ‘The Firm’ with Tom Cruise. When it got to the funeral scene I decided to do it. I went into the kitchen and took every tablet I could get my hands on. I got into bed and started shaking. I got scared and dialled 999. They put me through to The Gardai. They called an ambulance and both of them arrived down to my flat. I was rushed up to hospital and given drugs and put on a heart monitor. I dont want to die now. I want to live. But i want to be happy. I need a job in journalism and money. I could work as a freelance journalist and photojournalist. I suppose i am writing this book which is very important.
I took a walk up the corridor there. I was rubbing the back of my neck. I thought of that film ‘The Omen’ and 666 written on the back of his head so I blessed the back of my head. People always tease me about being the devil because my name is Damien. But there was a Saint Damien. He took care of the leppars. Sometimes I think I’m God.
Sometimes I think about the poor people in Guantanamo Bay. They are locked up like animals. I wouldnt be surprised if the doctors are experimenting on them. I know that they experiment with new drugs on The Africans. That was exposed in the film ‘Constant Gardner’.
I wish that all my ex girlfriends and friends would come in to see me and give me a surprise party but the irish government I think wont allow that. They like to keep me down. The politicians head off to Cannes for the festival while I, Oscar have to stay in Ireland with no job and no money and sometimes locked up in psychiatric hospitals. Although some of The Irish politicians are great like Mick Wallace. He is also a builder. He put a massive poster up on his scaffolding saying “Dont invade Iraq”.
There’s a ship sounding its horn. I can hear it through my hospital bedroom window. I think The Americans are trying to communicate. Or maybe its Maren. I told her that we were both like ships in the night.
An old woman in the smoking room who I think is a psychologist started talking about ms. My old landlord on Londonbridge Road has ms I think. For some reason that made me think of an orgy. I’ve got it into my head that my girlfriend is going to an orgy on Saturday night.
The Irish just abused me again on the radio. On Q102 the presenter just said “Wety if there’s such a word”. I used to call my girlfriend ‘puppy’. So the Irish wanted to abuse me psychosexually by turning ‘puppy’ into ‘wety’. As in ‘a wet pussy’. I hate the Irish and I want out of this country forever. I will never come back.
I am so excited. My girlfriend, Ellen, just phoned and said that we can fly to Bordeaux in August for about 250 euros each return. So I need to get out of hospital soon. I have to stabalise and then start the alcaholism course. All in all it will take about 2 months.
I was feeling a bit down so I looked up some porn on my phone. I feel really guilty about it. Most men look at porn.
My mum and brother phoned earlier on. They were being a bit rude on the phone. There is a family meeting scheduled for Monday at 4pm. I was going to cancel but I decided not to.
I just phoned my elder brother. I think he was in bed with someone. I hope its not Maren, my ex. I need to get out of the situation I’m in. The name of this book is Escape Velocity. My girlfriend phoned me a while ago and said that her mother only wants us to go to France for about a week. I’m very disappointed but hopefully I’ll be able to twist her arm to stay longer. I probably wont be out of hospital for another 2 months or more. I think I will be out just in time to go to Lourdes with my mum.
My cousin, Eugene Maloney, was murdered last weekend. He was at a stag night in Whelans of Wexford Street. He left the pub at 4am. He walked up Wexford Street and then Camden Street. There was a group of men on the Street. They shouted abuse at Eugene when he passed. He turned around and went back to the group and said something smart in response. Then he walked away. As he walked away a guy came out of nowhere and punched him really hard on the side of the head. Eugene fell to the ground and started bleeding. A nurse tried to attend to Eugene. The ambulance arrived and brought him to hospital but he was pronounced dead. My girlfriend called me the next day to tell me. I was devestated. The irish murdered my uncle Johnny and now they had killed Eugene. My first impulse was to leave the country. I’m still thinking along those lines.
I am deeply depressed. My doctor hasnt a clue whats wrong with me. He increased my Olanzpine to 17.5mg. That will depress me even more. Is he trying to kill me. There’s a girl in here who is really bugging me. Her name is Mary. She is intimidating me. She keeps walking up and down the smoking room. There’s another guy in here called Willie. They had me sharing a room with him but I moved. Am I paranoid or is it more sexual abuse from the Irish. I cant wait to get out of the country.
Was my cousin Eugene targeted?
My father abused me psychosexually when I was 16 and now the Irish are doing it openly.
I’m thinking of transfaring to St Pats. Dr McGuffy there knows me a lot better than the doctor here.
I’ll miss Eugene. He was a great journalist. He inspired me to study journalism. When I was a kid i thought he was so cool. He had such a great lifestyle – parties etc. The family is devestated.
The Irish are torturing me with sounds – lawnmowers, locks etc. They have sent people into the hospital to abuse me also.
I got a pannick attack. I got extremely paranoid and thought that the doctors and nurses and patients were trying to kill me. I tried to leave. They put me on a 24hr hold. Then I saw my consultant the next day. He said that he was enacting the mental health act. I said that there was no need as I was prepared to stay voluntarily. He said he was enacting it anyway. Then i saw another doctor. I told her that I was prepared to stay voluntarily. My consultant made me an involunary patient anyway. Then he transfared me over to St Peters ward. I was in there for two weeks smoking and pacing up and down the small corridor. But I’m out now. I ‘m back on St Paul’s ward. I’m sharing my room with Jim, my friend.
I’ve been in this hospital for two months now – 8 weeks. Please god they start me on the alcaholism course soon. Im supposed to be going to portugal on the 24th august and then lourdes on the 12 september. I’ve also been invited to a wedding in cleveland ohio usa. Then in October myself and ellen are thinking of going to new york and LA.
Hopefully i will be well enough to do all of this stuff.
I dont think i will go to america. If the americans wanted me over there they would send me money to come over. I’ll apply to cnn and if i dont get a job with them i will never go to the usa again. The last two times i was over there i was nearly murdered. I would like to go to france. I will either go to lacanau or biarritz. If i dont get a job there i will try to go to australia or elsewhere. I would love to live in lacanau. The beach and the pine trees. I could write and surf every day.
The staff here in st john of gods are being very rude to me.
I love jim, the guy i am sharing a room with. He looks like mata hari in lacanau and robert de niro. He’s really funny.
Jim went off drinking yesterday. I was tempted to do the same but I controlled myself thank god. I feel sick today. I find it very difficult to stay in reality. I keep drifting off into a world of my own. The little russian girl in here hurt me aswell. When i came out of the toilet she stood up and walked away. I did a deal with myself that if she was still there i would be potent but if she was gone i would be impotent. My brain is over active but even the 20mg of olanzapine is still not slowing my brain down. I am praying about 10 times a day. I find it very difficult to get the words out but when i get started im fine. I think i am suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. Soldiers get the same thing. Are the russians trying to kill me aswell. Everybody wants to kill me – the irish government, the uk government, the europeans, the americans. I really should go to australia. But that would fulfill the film ‘the omen’. Thats crazy. I should go to australia. But i want to get into the movie business. So the best place to go would be LA. I’ll go to LA.
There’s a great song on the radio at the moment call ‘The Princess of China’ by Coldplay. If this book is ever made into a film I will use this song for the movie. I’ll have it playing at the start of my story or when myself and my brother are driving back from London to Dublin after I had met the German girl. I think i have told you already that I will also use Enrique Iglesias’ music, Akon, Chris Brown, The Waterboys, The Hothouse Flowers, The 747s, The Lost Brothers my brothers bands etc.
Ellen, my girlfriend just called in. She was wearing a dress that looked like a dress that a Roman would wear – kind of a toga. I started thinking about my old school mate. I suspect that he has infiltrated my life. I think he secretly goes out with my girlfriends to stay in touch with me or help me or something. Why he doesnt just get in contact with me I dont know. Maybe he isnt aloud to. I remember I phoned the American embassy in Dublin and begged them to bring me to America. The soldier on the other end of the phone told me that he couldnt help me because “there were laws in place”. I’m still trying to figure it out to this day. Its probably my father. I suspect that he has me tied up legally or is it The Irish Government? Anyway Ellen called in and we had a nice chat. We sat outside on the bench and drank coffee and smoked.
Before Ellen called in my mother called in. She took me down to the basketball court here at the hospital. She sat down and read while I practised. Then we got coffee and sat on the bench. I smoked. She didnt.
I had a dream last night that i was in st pats. I was in the secure unit. I dreamt that people could see me on camera. There was a revolution in dublin and crowds of people had surrounded the hospital protesting about my treatment there. Then i dreamt that the american embassy decided to break me out. They launched a tank from the embassy and an army plated jeep. The american army lauched from shannon airport towards dublin. An american helicopter took off and flew over to the hospital. They put a ladder down into the garden of the hospital and 10 soldiers came down the ladder. They bust open the door of the ward. Then they said:
“We are here to rescue you. Please come with us.”
They led me out of the hospital, out into the garden. Then i climbed up the ladder into the helicopter. Then the helicopter flew me out to sandymount beach where there was an armoured jeep with tinted windows. I got in and they drove me to the airport. They put me on a private jet and flew me to New York. They put me up in an apartment in Manhattan and took me out drinking. What a dream!
The staff here in st john of gods are really unfriendly. I think the government put unfriendly staff on to stop me talking. The government is scared of me talking. There trying to drug me and keep me quiet. Although i do need the olanzapine because i am out of touch with reality. Shcizophrenia is caused when reality becomes to painful. Then the patient disengages with reality and goes into a make believe unreality. Fight or flight. Schizophrenics i believe are in touch with the supernatural and the spirit world. A hurt or trauma opens up the door. Its time to call Ghostbusters!
The other day I got depressed. I went for tea at 5.30pm. I got up from the table walked up the corridor, saw that there were no nurses at the office and just walked out the door of the ward. I walked down the stairs along the hospital corridor past reception and out the main door. Just as i left i got a twinge in my heart. I thought i was going to have a heart attack with the anxiety. I was worried that i would get caught. I walked out along the carpark and hopped over the wall. I walked on the footpath down the motorway took a left and walked up to stillorgan. I walked into the orchard pub. I had 250 euros in the bank. I asked the barman if he took laser and could give cashback. He said yes. I said give me a double whiskey and coke and 100 euros cashback. I was having a panic attack and my hands were shaking. I downed the whiskey in one go and ordered another one. I drank five double whiskeys and coke. Then i started on pints of cider. I had three pints of cider. Then the barman said that he couldnt serve me anymore. So i walked out the door and walked over to the taxi rank. I got into a taxi. I told the driver that i wanted to go to templebar. He left me into templebar. I got out and went into The Templebar bar. I ordered a pint. Then the bouncer came in and kicked me out. I am barred out of the templebar. Then i went to the quays bar. I had a pint there. Then i took a taxi up to the westbury hotel. The porter kicked me out. Then i took a taxi to eden strip club on the quays. I went in and ordered a pint. Then a girl in lingerie came over to me. We got talking. Then i got depressed thinking about my cousin Eugene being murdered. I went into a trance of depression. The girl got freaked out and left. Then i nearly fell asleep. The bouncer came down and told me that i had had enough. I walked out and got into a taxi. I went back to the hospital. Oh yeah i forgot to tell you. I gave a homeless guy 20 euros. He was delighted and ran off to do what i dont know. I am going to go into dublin every week when i get out of hospital and give homeless people 20 euros at a time. I’ll give out 60 euros a week. Anyway getting back to my story. When i got back to the hospital i got out of the taxi. Paid, and knocked on the door. The security guard said
“Who are you?”
I said: “Its Steve Beko”
The security guard was black. He laughed. Steve Beko was a black freedom fighter in south africa during apartheid. He was murdered by the police. An english journalist wrote a book about him and then it was made into a film.
Anyway, I said: “Its Damien Leech”
He let me in. Two nurses came down and let me up to st peters ward. They put me in the isolation room. They let me out the next day. I was in st peters ward for a week with no phone or laptop. I am tempted to go drinking again but its not the answer. I actually dont feel like drinking. If i win my tribunal on Thursday i will go back to my flat and buy fifteen cans of cider and get very drunk. I cant wait. Ellen might leave me but so what.
I was letting the other patients in the smoking room hear my brothers music on my phone. I let them listen to the 747s album and The Lost Brothers albums. My favourite songs are death of a star, miles away, Under the turquoise sky, golden dawn and in the city. My brother is so talented. I am the lost brother! I really have to get my act together.
I have given out about the irish a lot in this book but after spending time in this hospital, st john of gods , and as i get better i realise that the irish are not so bad. I have met some great irish people in here.
I just saw on the news that a young man in denver went crazy and shot 9 people after the showing of batman. What is wrong with society?
So what am i going to do in the future? I am thinking of transfaring to st pats. When i get out of hospital i am going to portugal with my family if i’m out in time. Then i am going to lourdes. Then i am either going to lacanau or new york and LA. I want to get into the movie business so i should go to LA. I want to be an actor or director. I could do a course in Dublin but i think LA would be better.
I was in the smoking room there and woman started talking about masterbating. I nearly got a pannick attack. My mother told me that masterbation was a mortal sin when i was younger. So i used to go up to confession three times a week. My mother traumatised me. My father never talked to me about it. I still feel guilty when I masterbate. I even feel guilty when i have sex. My mother also told me that having sex before marriage is also a sin. I am so sick of this catholic guilt. God is love. I used to come out of confession boxes bright red and sweating. Because my mother told me that masterbation or wanking as they call it in Ireland, was a mortal sin. I told my little brother and sister that if you wank the devil comes. I traumatised them and i feel so guilty about it. My little sister developed depression at a very young age.
Its 2.30am. I cant sleep. I’m not tired but I also have images in my head. The first image is of being in a lift shaft and falling like in the movie ‘Die Hard. The second image is of being at 33,000 feet in an aeroplane and the bottom coming out of the plane and falling. I nearly died because of the lift shaft image. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined being in the lift shaft. But what i do is i tell myself that i am on a bed lieing on concrete.
If this book is made into a film I would have a scene where I am driving a red Ferarri up the freeway in LA on the way to Alice Springs with a beautiful blonde drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels. The music that would be playing would be Enrique Iglesias’ song “Tonight”.
I saw the doctor this morning. He said that he was going to make me a voluntary patient again. I dont want to be made voluntary. I want the tribunal to go ahead on Thursday. I asked him why the staff were being rude to me. The psychologist said that they didnt want to give me positive affirmation. I told him that i wanted to transfare to st pats. He said that it wasnt possible. I really miss my doctor there. I dont like the doctor here. I told him that i was getting restless arm and leg syndrome with the olanzapine. He prescribed some medication, what i’m not sure. I told him that i had a headache running from the back of my head to the front. He ordered a brain scan. I asked him if i could have a mood stabaliser. He said no. I told him that i find it very difficult to stay in reality. He told me that that is because i am psychotic. I asked him if i could go to level 3 ie. Be let off the ward unaccompanied. He said not yet. I told him that i couldnt sleep and i asked him for a sleeping tablet. He said no. I told him about the troubling images in my head. The psychologist told me to stay in reality. I asked him when i could start the alcaholism course. He didnt know. I asked him why were the staff being rude to me. I asked him if I could see a psychologist and he said not yet. I told him that i was praying 20 times a day. He didnt comment. I asked him if i could get tested for an std and he ordered it.
I went drinking again. I walked out the door after tea and went up the motorway to The Galloping green. I nearly got a heart attack i was so nervous. I went in and ordered a double whiskey and coke. I didnt like the taste of it so I ordered a pint of guinness. I didnt like the taste of that so i ordered a pint of cider. I went in and out for a cigarette. Then i got a pannick attack. The hospital and my family were phoning to get me back to the hospital and to see if i was ok. i took my drink and went out to the smoking area. I looked up and saw the birds acting funny. I went inside. The pub started to empty. It was like the pub was haunted. One guy joked: ”we need a priest.”
I seem to give off weird energy when i get a pannick attack. Its so dangerous to interfere with the human brain and nature. At about 10pm i went back to the hospital. They were really angry with me. They told me to go to bed because they didnt want me encouraging other alcaholics to drink. I went to bed.
The next day they transfared me into st peters ward. I was devestated. The doctor there told me that if i go drinking again that he would send me to navan psychiatric hospital.
I had another tribunal and lost. I just walked up and down the small corridor like a lion in a cage and went into the smoking room to smoke. I decided that i wanted to go back to navan so i decided to go drinking again so that they would kick me out.
Ellen, my girlfriend, called in. We went downstairs for a coffee and sat outside. I told her that i was going to buy a packet of cigarettes. I legged in out the door. walked briskly out of the hospital and ran to stillorgan. I jumped into a Mercedes taxi and off we went. Katie Taylor was boxing in the Olympic final. I listened to the fight on the radio of the taxi on the way into Dublin city centre. We were heading to The Westbury Hotel. I was a little bit scared and kept praying: “Fr Kelly, God restore and protect my sexuality.”
When I arrived I got out of the taxi, payed and walked into the lobby of the hotel. I went up the stairs took a left and then a right into the bar. I ordered a double Jameson and coke. They didnt have any Jameson so I ordered a double Cointreau. It was very strong so i ordered a 7up mixer. I drank the first Cointreau and tipped the barman five euros. I ordered another double Cointreau and knocked it back. I tipped the barman another five euros. Then i ordered a Pina Colada. Then i ordered a couple of bottles of Bulmers cider. Then i went out to the hotel reception and asked could i use the phone. They said ok, no problem. I phoned Ellen and apologised to her for doing a leggar. I explained that i wanted to get kicked out of St John of Gods. She said:
“I understand but you should go back to the hospital now.”
Then I phoned my mum. She was raging. She said:
“Damien go back to the hospital.”
I was worried that my mum and my girlfriend would get the number of The Westbury and call back so i decided to leave. I was pissed and walked down Grafton Street, past Trinity College and into Templebar. First of all i went to Oliver St John Gogartys. I got a pannick attack. There was a singer in the pub. He sang: “were going to keep the gardai away from him.” I knew the Gardai were looking for me. I didnt like the atmosphere in Oliver St John Gogartys so i left.. i walked through templebar. I thought everyone was looking at me. I went into The Quays bar. The barman wouldnt serve me for some reason. Then i went to The Templebar bar. I sat in the snug and had a pint of cider. Then I left. I saw a taxi that looked like my uncles car. I got a brainwave:
“I’ll get a taxi to run me out to the hospital and they will pay for it. I got in. I went back to the hospital. When we arrived i rang the doorbell. A black security guard came to the door. he said:
“Whats your name?”
“I’m Steve Beko”
He said: “You are not Steve Beko.”
“I’m Steve Beko”, I said.
“Whats your real name?”
“OK its Damien Leech. He got a nurse from st peters to come down. They brought me upstairs and put me in the isolation room. I slept like a baby without any medication. The next day they let me out. The doctor came onto the ward. He invited me into the team meeting. He said:
“I’m sending you to Navan.”
I said ok.
The next day they sent me to navan in a taxi with two nurses. I saw my doctor in navan. She said that i would be in hospital for 2 to 4 weeks. She said that if i stayed on the olanzapine she would let me go sooner but that if went on chlozapine she would keep me longer. Her advice was to try Chlozapine. I said no. So here I am in Navan, a prisoner!
Psychiatric hospital is worse that jail. At least in jail they dont make you take drugs.
Schizophrenia is a detachment from reality. I am schizophrenic. I live between another world and this world. I keep seeing Jesus’s hands as he is coming out of the tomb in “The Passion of Christ”.
I have a court case coming up next Wednesday. I am challenging the decision of the tribunal based on the fact that i am not suffering from a mental illness. Maybe i dont suffer from a mental illness. Maybe its just my imagination. Brian Keenan suffered hallucinations when he was locked up. If I win my case I could sue the hospitals and make a fortune.
I am thinking of trying Chlozapine. My head still isnt right. If i got my head together i would study medicine or film studies.
My mum called in the other night. She reminded me of Jackie Kennedy. I really have to stop drinking. Its killing my mum. I’m thinking of getting stable in this hospital and then doing an alcahol recovery course either in st john of gods in Dublin or Cuan Mhuire in Athy, co kildare.
My uncle and dad also called in yesterday. My uncle used to work for Donald Trump in The USA. He is now working in The Middle East. He is loaded but gives me no money because the family thinks that i will drink it.
People become schizophrenic, they detach from reality, when reality becomes to painful. Fight or flight. I flew, detached from reality, and became schizophrenic because my father hurt me and my Italian girlfriend hurt me. Reality was to painful and i went into my own little world.
I wish my little sister would get a good job and make some money. Or make some money from her music. She has a masters from Trinity College Dublin. I wish my little brother would make some money from his music. We are all depending on my elder brother for money. We are crucifying him. I’ve given out about my dad in this book a lot. He has problems but he is not so bad.
The new slavery is the sex industry. They spot a girl that is attractive. Then they bankrupt her and then she has no choice but to sell her body in prostitution or porn or both. They also promise girls in Eastern Europe jobs in The West and then when they arrive they force them into the sex trade. My granny always said that if you want to take over a person or a country the first thing you do is bankrupt them, corrupt their morality and then you dont have to lift a finger.
It’s 2am. I am getting restless arm and leg syndrome. My legs are twitching. I am on 22.5mg of Olanzapine. I told the doctor. She reduced my Olanzapine to 20mg and gave me some chemidrin to counteract the restless arm and leg syndrome but I am still getting it. The doctor said that i still have symptoms of paranoid schizophrenia so she suggested that i try something stronger ie. Chlozaril or Chlozapine. I am considering taking it.
Schizphrenia is one of the most common mental illnesses which affects one in a hundred people at some point in their lives. In Ireland today there are approximately 12,250 people with schizophrenia. Most of them developed the illness in their late teens and early 20s. About 25% recover in a few months. Another 50% recover but have recurring episodes of illness throughout their whole lives while the final 25% do not respond to medical treatment and experience enduring mental distress. Clozaril may be able to help the last group. Schizophrenia is a complex illness with a wide variety of symptoms. There are positive or florid symptoms. These include delusions (strange beliefs that cannot be shaken by logic or reason such as a person believing that they are on a mission from God. In my case its believing that I am Osama Bin Laden and that 9/11 was a ransom for me. Another positive symptom is hallucinations (which are usually auditory, where a person hears voices telling them what to do or making hurtful comments. In my case I hear a running commentary like a radio station in my head – Like bad Lex Luthor talking to superman in his head on a secret wave lenght.
I like my uncle Brian. I hear him saying “Jesus Christ of Almighty”. Another positive symptom is paranoia where people think that people are plotting against them.
There are also negative symptoms. They include social withdrawal, difficulty in communicating, lack of motivation and inability to cope with everyday routines like washing and dressing. Clozaril is one of the many few which can reduce negative symptoms aswell as the positive ones.
There are side affects of Clozaril. Most antipsychotics produce nerve and muscle –related affects which can cause restlessness, stiffness, shaking and muscle cramps. Some antipsychotics can cause dry mouth, blurred vision, low blood pressure and constipation.
People who have high doses of antipsychotics over many years sometimes develop a condition called tardive dyskinesia which causes abnormal movement of the arms, legs, head and neck over which the person has no control. Clozaril doesnt seem to have these side affects.
The major drawback of Clozaril is a potentially dangerous reaction called neutropenia which occurs in 2 or 3 people per 100 treated. What happens is that the bodies ability to make white blood cells that are used to fight infection is greatly reduced. Neutropenia means that something as simple as a sore throat could become a life-threatening infection. In 1974, 20 patients in Finland developed neutropenia and sadly 8 of them died from overwhelming infection.
There are other side-effects with Clozaril. These include drowsiness, drooling, diziness, weight gain, headaches, low blood pressure, a fast or irregular heartbeat, constipation and occasional unexplained fevers. At high doses there is a risk (about 5 people in 100) of epileptic seizure. It is more likely to occur in people who have had epilepsy in the past.
Blood is checked before Clozaril treatment is started to ensure that the person is not already suffering from low white cell count. If neutropenia is going to occur it often shows itself in the first 18 weeks of treatment. So, for at least for this period a blood sample is taken every week and tested by The Clozaril Patient Monitoring Service. After the first 18 weeks a blood sample for monitoring is usually taken at 2 week intervals for the first year of therapy. After the person has been on treatment for 1 year with stable white cell counts over that period, then the frequency of monitoring may be changed to 4 week intervals. So do I want to take this medication? The answer is no. I would probably get pannick attacks. The side effects are too scary.
I am taking 20mg of Olanzapine at the moment. I am getting restless arm and leg syndrome just before i sleep. So I am going to ask the doctor to reduce it or give me more Chemidrin to reduce the side effects. Side effects of Olanzapine include; drowsiness, dizziness, shakiness and tremor, restlessness, increased appetite and weight gain, water retention, constipation, dry mouth, sexual problems and abnormal liver tests. Other more serious side effects that may occur include; a severe rash, stiff muscles, restlessness, high cholesterol, blood disorders, blood clots, high blood glucose, sore throat, fever and sweating, stroke in older people with dementia. Given these side effects I need to reduce Olanzapine or come off it completely.
My girlfriend, Ellen just called in. She brought me crisps and other goodies. I gave Ellen my pass card to go down town to get me money and cigarettes but she got a panic attack so she is staying in my flat. She will come up tomorrow when she is feeling better. She might come up tonight if her panic attack passes.
The doctors want me to try Clozaril but I want to stay on Olanzapine. My girlfriend and elder brother want me to stay on Olanzapine aswell. So i will stay on it as long as the restless arm and leg syndrome passes. I am also on an anti depressant, 225mg of efexor (the max dose). Given my history I need to stay on that. I first started to get depressed during and after my parents seperation. I got more depressed when my father started to have second partners. I got even more depressed when my ex girlfriend had a threesome behind my back. Then I was traumatised when The Italian Police assaulted me. Then i had a nervous breakdown. I was hospitalised for the first time in 2003. I got seriously ill as the American and English troops invaded Baghdad. I couldnt believe what The Americans were doing. I had been hurt so much. Was it a military operation?
My mum and my little sister are in Ericeira, Portugal, just outside Lisbon on the coast. They flew out today. My elder brother is flying out tomorrow and my little brother is flying out on Sunday. I’m stuck in a psychiatric hospital. Ericeira is the town where I went on the run from Ireland. I ran out of money and checked into The Vila Gale Hotel on credit. I got arrested. Then a week later I told the police there my Osama Bin Laden theory. They committed me and flew me home. Ericeira does not have pleasant memories for me. I’m sure my family are embarrassed to go there without me.
I’m gasping for a drink. I really need some alcahol quick. I’m not sure if I can give it up. I was thinking of going into St Pats to do an alcahol recovery course straight after this hospital admission but I need a break. I’m going to get out of this hospital and have a few drinks and go on holidays with Ellen. Then i will go into st pats and do the alcaholism course.
In my opinion about 75% of all psychiatric patients have been sexually abused. Sexual abuse can cause extreme depression which when left untreated can lead to schizophrenia and alcaholism. I also believe that about 75% of all psychiatric patients have family problems. My father abused me psychosexually when I was 16 by forcing me to watch him go up to bed with another woman other than my mum after the seperation. It was in an isolated house in Killykeen Park. My little sister and younger brother were there also but I think they were too young to understand. It felt like my father had raped me psychologically. He still continues to abuse me psychosexually every now and then. For example he recently said over the phone:
“Did you release the bung yet?”
By that he meant did I take a cork out of my ass to release the pressure. It really upset me. I refuse to this day to go anywhere isolated with him and generally keep him at arms length. He has abused every one of us children psychologically. I always promised myself that I would write a book about him to get him back. My father and Lorena, the Italian girl, are responsible for my mental illness. They have put me through hell being locked up in psychiatric hospitals.
My cousin is getting married tomorrow in Cleveland, Ohio, USA. I would love to be there but because of my mental illness I can’t go.
When I get out I am planning on going abroad for a holiday. I have to decide between America or France. If 9/11 was genuinely a ransom for me the Americans would be angry if I went to France. I have already travelled to The Canary Islands, Spain, this year. So myself and Ellen will probably fly to New York and then on to LA.
I cant understand why I have not been offered a job in journalism. I have sent off hundreds of cvs to newspapers, magazines, radio stations and television stations. Why wont they give me a job. Even The Meath Chronicle in my home town, Navan, wont give me a job. I genuinely believe that the programme on RTE a few years ago about Oscar and Amnesty International was about me. I am being persecuted.
I was watching Sky News there. The president of Syria is insane. He is bombing his own people instead of standing down. He is bombing civilians in bread lines. He is crazy. I cant understand why The USA does not invade to save people from being slaughtered.
I am listening to music every day in here on my walkman and phone. There are some brilliant lines in the music. For example: “We dont have to go the distance ‘cause we’re already there” from Enrique Iglesias’s album 7. The song is called “Say it”. Enrique has some great lines: “from the beginning of time. When it started to rain.” From his song “I have always loved you”. “I can only stay clean when you are around”. From enrique’s song “Addicted”. From John spillane’s song “Hey dreamer”: “you are a star in the night. You are a wave shining bright you are a bird in full flight” . From my brother’s song “Miles Away”, “I apologise for when I let you down. My feet left the ground.”
“Dont believe a word cause words can tell lies” – Thin Lizzy. “Coulda been a princess. Be a king. Live in a castle. wana ring” from Coldplays song “The Princess of China”. Maybe I could use some of this music if this book is ever made into a film.
My little brother just called in to visit me. He brought with him a memory stick so that I could back up the memory of this book. My brother also said that I should go straight into the alcaholism course in st pats. That i should not take a break because i will inevitably drink.
He is playing in a festival tonight. He looked worn out. He is flying to Portugal tomorrow to be with my family. He needs a holiday.
Its a beautiful summers Sunday morning. I’m upset because I said my prayer to God to restore and protect my sexuality and at the end of the prayer I was distracted and I blessed myself the wrong way so I had to bless myself again. Now I’m worried that God wont restore and protect my sexuality. I am so insecure. I need to have faith in God’s love. I think that i dont have faith in Gods love because my father here on Earth is an asshole.
I phoned my elder brother who travelled to Portugal yesterday. He was really rude to me. It really upset me. Then I phoned my girlfriend for some empathy and compassion. She was really rude to me aswell. I almost broke it off with her.
I find that when I am with someone my psyche is split. I am thinking of Jesus’s hand after the resurrection in the film “The Passion of Christ”. I am hoping that my sexuality comes back like Jesus’s resurrection. So my psyche is split. I think schizophrenia means split – a split from reality. I find it comforting to think of Jesus’s hand after the resurrection.
I am trying to pray. Every sound in the hospital hurts like a dagger. An old man in a hostel in Dublin noticed that I was very sensitive to sound. He asked me if I was ever in a war zone. Lagos, Portugal, Huelva, Spain, Seville, Spain and Cadiz, Spain in 2007 were like warzones. Its going to take me a while to recover. I need to go and live by the sea for the rest of my life.
I just phoned my little brother in Portugal. I told him that noises were like daggers when I try to pray. He said;
“You should be able to pray in the city or in the woods.”
I thought of the movie “The Blair Witch Project” and my mood plumeted. I really need to be on a mood stabaliser.
Some people who are extremely depressed physically self harm by cutting or burning themselves with cigarettes for example. When I am extremely depressed i self harm psychologically. For example I will think of making myself impotent. And then the depression is compounded.
I feel physically sick giving up alcahol. My body is crying out for it. I am trying to decide whether or not to do the alcaholism course in st pats. I really need to do it. When i start drinking the whole day is consumed by alcahol. I dont think i will ever stop drinking. I am too dependent on it. Maybe if i made a big effort i could give it up.
Its Friday morning. The devil is tormenting me. I was talking to my uncle and we were talking about St Michael. St Michael protects us against the devil. A depression has come over me. Maybe im bipolar.
My uncle brought me in a book on basic medicine. I love it. Its head to toe medicine. I read it every day. I would like to be a doctor. Or maybe i would like to study film studies. I would make films about psychiatry. I would interview psychiatrists. I would interview people on 9/11 and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. I would interview people about European integration, religion etc.
I am still considering trying the chlozapine. Maybe i should try it for the doctors. They say I need it. Although the Olanzapine has started to work over the past week. I am not praying every day. Anyway i cant because every noise that i hear is like a dagger in my head every time I pray. I am traumatised. I was in Cadiz in 2007. I think there were thousands of young people being raped and murdered there.
Its Monday at 10pm. I am drinking vodka. My fellow patient went to the off license and bought 2 naggons of vodka. I would be killed if the nurses caught me. I dont want to drink any more. My uncle phoned me. I asked him to bring me a bible last week and he brought the four gospels. I was talking to him tonight on the phone and then he got cut off but he didnt call me back. He probably trying to get me back for not answering his calls. He is so childish.
Another thing happened. The head nurse on the ward said:
“Damien, if you go drinking I will do my best to sour your relationship with your girlfriend.”
I couldnt believe it. I made a complaint to the doctors. The nurse got into trouble. Then at 10pm last Friday night the same nurse came into my room. I was lying in bed. He came up very close to me in a very threatening manner. I thought he was going to hit me. He said:
“Did you make a complaint about me?”
I was shocked and said:”I can’t remember.”
He said:”I didnt say that. I said ‘If you go drinking you will sour your relationship with your girlfriend.”
I was frightened and just agreed with him.
The next day i put in a written complaint. I phoned The Sunday World Newspaper to tell them about it. They said if i put in a written complaint and it was processed then they could write a story on it.
On Saturday night I became suicidal. I tried to phone the suicide prevention phone numbers. I couldnt get through. I thought someone was trying to kill me. I rang the Gardai. They said: “give us 10 minutes and well call you back.”
They called me back and gave me a Dublin number. I phoned and they guy at the end of the line helped me enormously. I am not suicidal any more.
I saw my doctor today. She said that i had to take Olanzapine and Abilify or Chlozapine. I said i would take the chlozapine. I didnt like being given an ultimatum so i phoned my brother. He is going to phone the doctor tomorrow and say that he doesnt want me taking chlozapine. I think if i take the drug i will be in bed all day and all night.
My mum just arrived back from Portugal today. I sent her a text message:
“Welcome home mammy!”
She sent me back a text message:
“X”
I love my mum so much. I tried to call her then but I couldnt get through. An English woman on an automated system said:
“We can not connect your call because of technical difficulties. I suspect that the British wanted to desecrate the occasion. Then my father phoned from Cork. He also wanted to desecrate the event I think.
The doctors want to put me on Chlozapine. My elder brother was not happy with that so he phoned them this morning. I am not sure what they said. He is going to phone my mum and me this evening. In our brief conversation he said that my doctor wants to keep me in hospital for a couple of months. I am deeply depressed about that. I will talk to my brother this evening and ask him what was said.
I just phoned Loretta Barret books in New York. I sent them an idea that I have for a coffee table book. They said that they would respond to me in 3 – 6 weeks.
My mum bought me The Bible. Its really interesting. I read Revelations last night.
I saw my doctor today. She said that she is putting me on Chlozapine. I am an involuntary patient which means that I have to take the recomended medication. My brother doesnt want me to take it and expressed that to the doctor. My mum is meeting the doctor tomorrow. Hopefully the medication helps me.
Is it possible that schizophrenics are possessed by the devil or evil spirits? Should priests should do exorcisms on them?
I have a lot to tell you. Its been about 2 or 3 weeks since i have written. My little brother took off for america yesterday. He’s stealing the limelight from me. After i published that 9/11 might have been a ransom for me i should have travelled to the USA. But my family and the irish wouldnt give me any money to travel. I imagined last night that my brother and Glen Hansord from The Frames were busking in JFK airport. I imagined that people in JFK airport were singing and dancing to my brothers music. I imagined that they phoned ireland and told the police that they would get me a doctor and a nurse if they let me travel to New York. I imagined that the Irish Government said no. I’m nearly dead. I’d say i have another 10 years. I found out that I have copd and possible heart damage.
My mother came back from Lourdes yesterday. She brought me back holy water to drink. It really helped me. My problem is a lack of faith. My father on earth is such and asshole that its difficult to imagine an all loving father in heaven.
Another thing that has happened is that i broke up with my girlfriend. She asked me if i had cheated on her. I denied it at first and then admitted it. We broke up. Then last night i sent her a text message asking her is she wanted to get back together and travel to the states to hear one of my brothers gigs. I’m waiting for a reply.
As far as medication goes. The doctors are reluctant to start me on cholozapine because i have lung and possible heart damage.
I just imagined that Bono is flying out to New York today to gig with my brother and Glen Hansard. I wish I was over there.
I havent written in about 2 weeks so here it goes. My brother just phoned me from Ohio, USA. He is gigging there tonight. The doctors have started me on an extra medication. Its called Solian or something. Its an old antipsychotic that aparently gets rid of the negative symptoms of schizophrenia. So now I am on 225mg of Efexor, 20mg of Olanzapine and Solian. I still get very depressed when I think of the possibillity that I could become impotent. I had a wank last night and it went ok. Its an irational fear.
I decided to go drinking again. I sneaked out and went down to my friends house, Henry’s house. I got pissed. Then i came back to the hospital. A friend of mine, mark was admitted to the hospital. He was acting very strangely. I dont know what happened to him. I had let him stay in my flat. He started being very rude to me. Then another guy came into the hospital. He’s a total psychopath. I’m terrified of him. He keeps trying to provoke me. If i lost my temper with him he would kill me.
A few days ago I felt intimidated by the two lads. I didnt eat my tea and stayed in bed. Then the idea popped into my head. I decided that i would commit suicide. I sneaked out of the hospital and walked down the rampparts to The River Boyne. I walked out the path along the side of the river. I was amazed that nobody came after me. I walked out to the second bridge. Myself and my ex had made love there in the woods in 2003. I climbed up into the woods beside the river. I tried to call my mum but her phone was off. She was in bed with the flu. I then took my phone out of my pocket and my cigarretes. I left them in the woods and walked down to the river. I stood there and thought about jumping in. I thought to myself that it would be very cold. I also wanted to finish my book to get all the people that had hurt me back and expose the whole thing as a conspiracy. So i turned back. I picked up my phone and cigarettes and put them back into my pocket. I then walked back along the path alongside the river. I phoned my friend Henry.
“Hi Henry! Guess where I am.”, i said.
“Where are you?”, he said.
“I’m down the ramparts. I was going to throw myself into the river.”
“Oh no.”, he said.
“Can i come up for a few beers?”, i asked.
“Oh no. I’m going out.”
“Jesus christ henry im just after trying to commit suicide.”
“Ok come up.”He said.
I walked quickly up the path beside the river. Just as i was leaving the river path. I saw a black guy approaching. He started to walk towards. Me. I thought he was going to attack or kill me but then he turned away. I am certain that there are people trying to kill me. I walked up to Henrys house. He let me in. We started drinking cans. I got drunk. Then henry called an ambulance because he didnt trust me walking back to the hospital. The ambulance crew came down. But my brain was malfunctioning. The alcahol had stopped the anti depressants from working. Alcahol is a depressant. It depressed my brain. I told the ambulance crew that i wasnt coming with them. They pleaded with me. I opened another can. Henry started to get very upset. I gave in and went with the ambulace crew. They dropped me up to Accident and Emergency. I was pissed out of my head. I left A&E and went into the waiting room. I asked a woman there for a cigarette. She gave me one. Then i went outside and phoned the FBI in New York. They were nice to me but then said that they had to go as I was calling the FBI Anti Terrorism Task Force. I then left the hospital and started walking downtown. I didnt know where i was going. I was drunk. Then when i was on brews hill a police car pulled up beside me. They said:
“Damien, where are you going?”
“Can I have a lift?” I replied.
“Ok, we’ll drop you up to the hospital. Hop in.” The police woman said.
They dropped me up to the hospital. I asked them could i go into the church there to say a prayer. They let me. Then they escorted me up to the psychiatric ward. I got into bed. I was exhausted. I really have to stop drinking.
I have another theory about 9/11. I dont think there were terrorists onboard the planes at all. I think they were airline pilots or military pilots who flew the planes into The Twin Towers and The Pentagon because they had a gripe against the United States.
I’m still being intimodated by the two lads here on the hospital ward. Its very upsetting.
I think the Irish and English tried to kill me last night or seriouslly harm me anyway. I got talking to an english patient in the garden. She said that the two lads were annoying her. She said that one of them told her that they could see the devil in her eyes. This freaked me out because i am scared of the devil aswell. I got a pannick attack and retreated to my bed. Then one of the lads came in to use my toilet. I think he had broken his toilet. He finished doing whatever he had to do and then he started kicking everything in the toilet making a terrible noise. I said to myself: “stay calm, stay calm.” He left and i stayed in bed. About an hour later the nurses called me to take my medicatiion. I went up to the medicine room. One of the guys was standing there taking his medication. I turned around to go for a walk until he left. Then the nurse called me back. I think she was trying to set me up for trouble. I said:
“I am not going near that neandorthol.”
The nurse then told the guy to stay in his room until i had finished getting my meds. I took my meds. My hands were shaking with anger. Then i said to myself:
“He’s been abusing me for about 5 days now I’m going to kick his head in.” I walked quickly down the corridor and went to go into the garden where he was. Then an English nurse said:
“I wouldnt go out there if i was you.”
I took his advice thankgod. I gave the guy both fingers. He went mad. Then i said:
“Come on. Come on.”
Then the nurses came towards me. I pushed one of them. They said:
“Go to your room.”
I stayed in my room and then went for a cigarette. Then i went to sleep. Today i am staying away from him. He had told me that he was in the IRA. If i had attacked him last night he could have seriously harmed or killed me. The Irish Police brought him in. He should be in jail. I suspect that the Irish Police wanted to harm or kill me by sending him in. I also suspect that it was my father and my cousin in Donegal.
My old doctor came back today thankgod. She increased my medication to 25mg of Olanzapine. My mum came into the ward round with me.
I am up against satanism. Its Sunday morning. I’m still in hospital. Somebody has tuned out province 5 television, the local station for navan. There is mass on this channel every day. We couldnt watch the service. Who is it? It it Europe? Is it England? Is it the USA? Or is it the irish?
The doctors still havent started me on chlozapine. They are waiting for an echogram on my heart. If there are any heart complications then i cant go on chlozapine. I was on chlozapine before and it didnt agree with me so i think i am wasting my time going on it. But i’ll give it another go. The doctors are encouraging me to try it for 6 months to a year.
I felt frustrated in the hospital like i was going nowhere. They wouldnt give me a discharge date. I said to myself:
“Fuck it, I’ll go drinking.”
I ran out the door of the hospital. 2 nurses ran after me but I outran them. I felt like the fugitive running down through the hospital. I got out the gate of the hospital and walked briskly down town in the direction of Henrys house. I had two euros on me so i went into Lidl, the supermarket on Brews Hill and bought two cans of cheap lager. I opened on of them and started drinking it as i walked down to Henrys. I wanted to get as much alcahol into me as i could before i got caught by the police. Eventually i arrived at henrys. He let me in and we started drinking. Then a friend of his called down and he started drinking aswell. I decided that i would stay with henry for 3 days. If an involuntary patient stays out of the hospital for more than 3 days without permission then legally the hospital has to release them i think. So anyway i got drunk. Then i didnt feel well. The medication was mixing with the drink. I asked henry could i lie down in his bed. I lay down. I stayed there for about half an hour. Then i felt sick. I vomited on the floor. Then i decided that i needed to go back to the hospital. I went and got a taxi. They dropped me up to the hospital. It was 1.30am. They let me in and i went to bed.
The next day the nurses and the doctors were pissed off. They told me that i would be going to St Brendans or St Brigids in Ardee which are closed hospitals. The doctor said that she would make her decision on Monday. So i got into bed for a nap. Then the head nurse came in and said:
“What are you doing lying in bed. Get up.”
I said no. He got pissed off and went away. Then half an hour later he came back and said i am sending you to ardee. The spiteful bastard. He told me to get packed. So i got up and packed.
Myself and two nurses took a taxi to Ardee. It took about 40 minutes. I was very upset but i didnt show it. When i arrived i was shocked. It was very gloomy and old fashioned. There were two long corridors with beds all along it. It was like a hospital during the second world war for wounded soldiers. But the wounds during the third world war are wounds of the mind. The nurses brought my luggage in and we spoke to the nurses. Then i went out for a cigarette and then down to my bed. There was no duvet or pillowcase on my bed. I found this very upsetting. There were duvets on all the other beds. I didnt say anything. Then thank god i remembered my book, this book. I said to myself:
“Jesus, where’s my laptop?” I rushed up to the office and said it to one of the nurses. He went out to the taxi. He had left my laptop in the boot of the taxi. He brought it in. I left my laptop with the nurses. They said that i could have it back when i want to write but that i had to go into the visitors room to write. The two nurses that had brought me over left without saying goodbye. I was very hurt.
Anyway here i am in ardee psychiatric hospital. I get up at 8.30am. i have my breakfast which consists of two cups of coffee. Then i go outside for a cigarette. Then i pace up and down the corridor taking smoke breaks. Coffee comes out at 10.15am. lunch is at 12pm. Another cup of coffee at 3pm and then tea at 5pm. I like it here. I prefare it to navan hospital. The staff in navan were starting to treat me with contempt. Familiarity breeds contempt. My doctor is coming over to see me tomorrow or the next day. I am going to tell her that i dont want to be her patient anymore and that i would like a new consultant. I will also ask her to transfare me to St Pats in Dublin or St John of Gods where i was before. Although i think john of gods would be a mistake as i would be under my old consultant and he’s an asshole in my opinion.
The patients here are very nice. Some of them are very funny. There is an old man who looks like tula the hun in star wars. He’s really overweight but he’s a character. He has brain damage i think from all the psychiatric drugs. He keeps asking people for cigarettes. He smokes all day and says:
“fuckin bastard” all day.
The black nurse just asked me to take a shower. I took a shower but i felt sexually violated. There’s something about being asked to take your clothes off and get wet that really pisses me off. Its like a gentle rape. When a psychiatric nurse wants to get at a patient he or she will ask the patient to take a shower. If the patient refuses then the nurse will write down that the patient is not well.
Another thing thats on my mind is why do the Irish and English not get on? There are English nurses working here in this hospital. The english have always tried to keep the irish down. They invaded and tried to stamp out our Irish language. They persecuted us for going to Catholic mass. They would not give us good jobs etc. And now in my life in 2012 exactly the same thing is happening. I feel that the English are persecuting Catholics. Maybe its just my imagination. Also i cant get a good job in what i studied – journalism. I studied for 3 years and i still can not get a job in journalism. Why? The mass in Navan was tuned out of the television. Why? Satanism.
It is not long since The Famine. Irish people starved to death or emigrated. We were dependant on the potato as food. The potato crop failed and we had nothing to eat. The British actually exported food while Irish people were starving. So that is why Irish aand English people do not get on.
The Irish government I suspect is trying to kill me. Enda Kenny, the Prime Minister, could get me out of hospital if he wanted but he chooses not to. I rang the FBI in New York 2 days ago. They said:
“Sit tight my friend we are trying to get you out.”
They told me that they were trying to contact The Prime Minister to get me out. I love americans. They think big.
I am back in Navan Hospital. I saw my doctor this morning. I am starting on Chlozapine tonight. When i get out i am going to america for 3 months and then myself and Ellen are going to Biarritz for the rest of my life.
I live in constant fear of panic attacks. When i get a pannick attack i am completely psychotic. I am extremely paranoid. I think that everybody is trying to kill me. When i was in ardee hospital (ira country) last week i thought that the ira were trying to kill me. When i’m having a panic attack i dont answer the phone. When we hear on the news that a paranoid schizophrenic went crazy and killed people it is my opinion that at the time they are suffering a panic attack or mini psychotic episode due to the side effects of the anti psychotic medication. They should not be held responsible. The drug companies and the psychiatrists should be held responsible.
I am embarking on the chlozapine journey for the second or third time. I dont remember the last time i took chlozapine which is a bad sign. I will have to get weekly blood tests for the first while which means that i will have to stay in navan for a while. Myself and ellen could take a weeks holiday somewhere but i suppose if we wanted to extend our holiday we could go to a psychiatrist in the chosen country. I have to remember that. If i forget we just simply stay in navan for six months. I have a feeling that the chlozapine is going to make me sick. I hope it works well. It remains to be seen.
I have been in hospital now for almost half a year. Please god the chlozapine works and the doctor releases me. If it doesnt work then i go back on olanzapine. I am on the road home. When i get out i need to stay off the drink. When i binge drink my brain needs three days to recover.
Sometimes when i phone my dad he jokes:
“There’s a war on you know.”
So whose fighting? The real ira are fighting with the old ira. The real ira are fighting with the uvf, the ulster volunteer force. Europe is fighting with the Irish and the greeks over money i think. England is fighting with europe over money. America is fighting with russia and china over whats going on in syria. There is a civil war in Syria. I think some countries want to kill me over my writing. I have material on the internet. I think America is gearing up to invade Iran over their supposed nuclear weapons programme. If America invades Iran i will not travel to the USA. They are trying to take over the entire planet in my opinion – “The New American Century”. Because of 9/11 they think that they have the right to invade any country they want. They are obviously after natural resources mainly oil. The last two times I went to America I think they tried to kill me. In Miami they nearly killed me. In New York they nearly killed me aswell. Is it safe for me to travel to the USA? I have on my website:
“Was 9/11 a ransom for Oscar, Damien Leech?”
I just recently put up that theory. So maybe because of that the Americans will be nice to me. My little brother is over there at the moment lapping up the fame. I think he is in LA. If they invade Iran i will not travel to the US but if they back off and leave them alone i will give the USA one more try. So where else can i go? Europe or Australia? They treated me like shit in Biarritz in the Southwest of France. Maybe i’ll go to Bordeaux with Ellen. I have very fond memories of Bordeaux. If Ellen doesnt want to come with me i will save the money in my savings account. I am saving 50 euros a week of my disability money.
Chlozapine is a British drug as far as i know. I do not like the British. I’m not going to stay on their drug. An English girl here in the hospital just saw that i was depressed and she cheekily smilled at me to piss me off.
I’ll just stay on Chlozapine until i get out of hospital and then stop it and go back on Olanzapine which is an American drug as far as i know.
The first abortion clinic in ireland is due to open next week in northern ireland. Its disgusting. How could a mother kill a little baby who is so happy in his or her’s mother’s womb. My ex german girlfriend aborted my little baby in her womb. There could be a little Damien running around. If i had a child i would teach him or her everything i know and i would never shout at him or her. If it was a boy i would teach him how to play irish football and hurling. I would teach him how to surf. How to play basketball. I would persuade him not to drink or ever take drugs.
I have had an idea for a play about abortion for a long time now. I could put it on in my uncles theatre in Donegal. The play would go as follows:
Three girls are sitting in their flat drinking cans of lager.
Then one girl pipes up:
“Girls, I have something to tell you.”
The two other girls say: “What is it?”
First girl (Jennifer) says:
“Remember that guy I shagged last weekend.”
Other girls: “Yeah what about him?”
Jennifer; “Well I’m pregnant.”
Other girls (Mary and Dearbhal):
”Oh my god. What are you going to do?”
Jennifer: “I’m thinking of having an abortion.”
Dearbhal: “Dont do that. I dont agree with abortion.”
Jennifer: “How am I going to support the baby”
Mary: “You would get children’s allowance.”
Jennifer: “No my life would be ruined. What will my parents say. I’m going to England for an abortion. Mary show me your laptop. I’m going to google it.”
The three girls look up abortion clinics in England and flights. They get the phone number of the clinic. The next day jennifer phones the clinic in london. She books an appointment for the following Thursday. A week later the three girls are on their way to london. When they arrive at the clinic there is a pro life protest. Just as jennifer and the girls are walking in the door of the clinic a pro life woman hands Jennifer a leaflet. It says:
“Dont murder your child.”
Jennifer bursts into tears.
The three girls stand in the hallway of the clinic.
Jennifer: ”Girls, i’m not going to do it.”
Mary: “Ok, good decision.”
Dearbhal hugs jennifer. So does Mary.
Dearbhal: “Lets go for a pint.”
Mary: “Good idea.”
The three girls leave the clinic and head into the nearest pub.
The next day they fly back to ireland. Jennifer tells the guy she made love to that she is pregnant for him. They start dating. Then they move in together. They get married a month later and 7 months later jennifer gives birth to a beautiful baby girl.
The end
So this is my idea for a play about abortion. I must ask my uncle and aunt to put it on.
Its a Thursday night. I am still in navan psychiatric hospital. I am on 100mg of chlozapine now. They are going to build it up to about 500mgs.
My father told me about “The Mary Raftery Investigative Journalism Fund.”
It is a fund which was set up to encourage investigative journalism. They want people to investigate mental health first. I could get 18,000 euros to investigate my idea. My idea which i am going to put forward is the link between anti psychotic medication and panic attacks. I have gotten panic attacks on almost every anti psychotic medication. The med with least side affects in Olanzapine. I think it is an American drug. Ive tried injections of Chlopixol, Depixol and Respiradol. I got severe panic attacks on all three of these medications. I am going to interview doctors and patients. My girlfriend Ellen is on anti psychotic medication and she gets panic attacks. My mums friend in Donegal suffers from panic attacks and she is on anti psychotic meds. I am going to produce a television programme on the subject. I might get assassinated by the drug companies. There are millions if not billions or even trillions involved in the pharmaceutical industry.
I try to think of this hospital like a boat out at sea. I cant step off the boat. We are travelling to “better land”.
Another thing that i have learned from this hospitalisation is that the patient should trust the doctors. I tended not to trust the doctors because i have been hurt so much. I am paranoid.
So the plan is to get the fuck out of this hospital. Get a new passport. Go back on Olanzapine because its dangerous to drink on Chlozapine, get a supply of Olanzapine from my doctor and just go. I will have enough in my savings account for a ticket when i get out. I’ll fly Ryanair, Dublin - Porto, Portugal. I cant wait to get there. I will spend the entire day in Igreja Clerigos, my favourite church in the whole world. I will take smoke breaks every now and again but i will spend the whole day in the church. Then when the church closes i will go for a few glasses of wine.
Before I go to Portugal I want to send off this book to the publishers. Hopefully Loretta Barret Books in New York like it and get it published. If they dont like it i will send it to Australia, Germany, France, China, Russia and other publishers in the USA.
I also want to get my favourites book published. I think i told you about it before. It would be a coffee table book. On each page would be:
Whats your favourite film?
Whats your favourtie book?
Etc etc.
So i want to get the Favourites book published also.
When i am in Portugal I will go to the churchs every day. I will smoke like a trooper. I will surf out at the port which is a great surf spot. I can not afford to go to the USA without my girlfriends help.
Another thing i have to do is apply to CNN. If they offer me a job then i would consider going to the US. Sometimes i think that if the USA wanted me there then i would be there already. I am getting no positive signals. I didnt even get to attend my cousins wedding in Cleveland. I will never forgive the Irish for murdering my cousin, Eugene Maloney. I want out of this country forever.
I will also look for a job in Porto. I will work as a journalist or English teacher. If that doesnt work then i will look for a job as a barman etc.
If I just take off I will choose who i talk to back in ireland. I will only talk to my elder brother and my mother. Thats it. If i open up a line of communication with my younger sister or brother then i might get committed and deported from portugal. Thats what happened the last time. My father is a snake. I can not trust him.
I got up this morning at 8.30am. I had breakfast and i have just come from pacing the corridors yet again and taking breaks to smoke. I am thinking of becoming a psychiatrist. I think i could help people.
I am going to talk about the basics of psychiatry. Depression: depression is a medical condition which results in a state of low mood that affects a person’s interests, thoughts, behaviour and activity. There are a few different types of depression. The first one is major depressive disorder. This consists of a pervasive low mood that affects a person’s ability to function normally and which can be classified as mild,moderate or severe depending on the symptoms.
The second type of depression is dysthymia. This consists of a prolonged low mood. But a person may be able to continue to function normally and feel ok at times.
The third type of depression is post-natal depression. This is a low mood that occurs in a mother within one month of the birth of her child.
The fourth type of depression is adjustment disorder with depressed mood. This is a low mood that occurs after a specific life event such as bereavement, illness or trauma.
The fifth type of depression is seasonal affective disorder. This occurs in a person in the winter months which is supposed to be due to reduced exposure to sunlight.
The sixth type of depression is bipolar affective disorder. This occurs in a person when they get cyclical moods going from very low to very high.
The seventh type of depression is psychotic depression which is the type of depression that I think I have. This is an extremely low mood associated with a break from reality, hallucinations and/or delusions.
I got depressed when my parents seperated. Then i got really depressed when my father started to have second partners.
How does one know if they have depression? You are persistantly sad or unhappy. You have a lack of energy and are always tired. You are unable to enjoy things that you used to enjoy. You have poor concentration and have difficulty in making decisions. You have low self esteem and feel guilty often. There is a change in sleep pattern. You either over-eat or eat very little. You feel pessimistic about the future. You feel irratable or always on edge. You have thoughts of suicide. I blame my father and Lorena for my current depression.
The treatment for depression is medication (antidepressants) and psychotherapy. I am taking the max dose of anti depressant – effoxor. I am getting no psychotherapy. I think the government are trying to keep me quiet.
Another mental illness is Bipolar Affective Disorder. It is sometimes called Manic Depressive Disorder. It is associated with intense mood swings. These mood swings may very between periods or deep depression to extreme highs or elation.
Treatment for Bipolar comes in two stages. If the patient is depressed then the psychiatrist will use antidepressants to bring them up. If the patient is high then the doctor will use antipsychotics to bring them down. When the doctor gets the patient to the normal mood he or she will use mood stabilisers to maintain the patients mood. The most common mood maintenance drug is Lithium. Anti-epileptic drugs are also used as mood stabilisers. If a patient takes Lithium they have to get regular blood tests and check-ups.
Anxiety is another type of mental illness. I suffer from massive anxiety. Anxiety is an emotional state which results in changes in a person’s thoughts, body and behaviour.
Some anxiety is a normal part of life but if it becomes an excessive irrational dread that interferes with one’s day to day activities, it can be debilitating and so becomes a psychological disorder.
There are a few different types of anxiety. The first type is generalised anxiety disorder. This is extreme, excessive and unrealistic worrying over day to day situations.
The second type of anxiety is panic disorder. This is episodes of sudden panic attacks which make the patient very frightened.
The third type of anxiety is post – traumatic stress disorder. This occurs in people who have been traumatised. They get flashbacks. They avoid similar situations or people. They get mood changes, nightmares and/or they can’t sleep.
The fourth type of anxiety is obsessive compulsive disorder. This occurs when a patient has persistant recurring intrusive thoughts or obsessions. They have an irrisistible desire to perform irrational acts or rituals.
The fifth type of anxiety is social anxiety. I have this. It is a fear of social situations. I usually get pissed to overcome it and relax.
The sixth type of anxiety is specific anxiety. This is a significant fear when exposed to a specific object or situation such as agoraphobia (spaces you cant leave easily), or claustrophobia (fear of enclosed spaces). I used to get this at mass on a Sunday morning.
The seventh type of anxiety is hypochondria. This is when a person worries all the time about getting a serious illness. When a person is constantly worrying about their health.
The treatment for anxiety is therapy and medication (usually high doses of antidepressants).
Another well known type of mental illness is schizophrenia. This occurs when a person detaches from reality. They go into their own little world. The psychiatrists that i have seen with the exception of Dr Michael Corry who is now dead, all said that i suffer with paranoid schizophrenia. Schizophrenia alters a person’s thoughts, perception and behaviour. It is estimated that it affects 1% of the population. A schizophrenic might suffer from hallucinations, hearing voices or things that aren’t real. Or they might even see things that aren’t really there. They might suffer from grandiose delusions. For example they might think that they are famous. My theory is that the person has detached from reality because reality has become to painful. They have made up a make believe world. They might suffer from thought disorder resulting in difficulty speaking and organising thoughts. They might have a loss of emotion. They are just numb. This is depression in my opinion. They might have reduced personal hygiene and lack motivation. They might have difficulty paying attention because they are in their own little world (an altered state of reality). They usually also have memory problems.
It is very similar to depression in ways.
So these are the main mental illnesses. It is very interesting.
Dr Michael Corry who is now dead said that he believed that i was not mentally ill or schizophrenic. He believed that it was the circumstances that i was in that was sick not me. I suspect that he and his wife were murdered. Am I paranoid?
So what about the people (patients) here on the ward. There’s one guy who just sits in the same seat and says nothing. I ask him to go and get me capucinos. He gladly goes out to the cafe and gets me coffee. He is on Chlozapine. He seems happy to just sit there. He is going to a hostel soon. The doctors are trying to get him out and about.
There’s another girl on the ward. She is schizophrenic i think. She is a little bit retarded. She walks around all day up and down the corridor. She keeps looking at her hand. She talks to her hand. She hears voices i think. Her mother comes in and takes her out every now and again. I make a point of saying:
“Hi”
to her every time i see her. Its an expression of compassion towards her even though its two letters. When i said hi to her a few times she seemed to come out of her make believe world and into reality. She started talking and interacting with the other patients. I came into the living room here in the hospital today. She was painting a picture.
There’s another old woman on the ward. She just sits in her chair. Sometimes she watches television. Sometimes she shuffles up and down the corridor.
There’s another guy in my room. He roars and shouts at the nurses. They have him heavily drugged which is a good thing. He is scary.
There’e another guy who says he is a healer. I think he is schizophrenic.
There’s also an English girl who i try to avoid. I dont get on well with english people.
There’s another guy who keeps shouting at the staff. I think he is a fireman. He’s a gentle giant. I think he was sent in here for security to look after me. Believe it or not i have security. In the film “Flight 93” the airtraffic controllers say:
“Where’s ET?”
I am ET and my mum is the mother of ET.
I had a panic attack last night because one of the patients was very agressive with me. I went straight to bed and pulled the cover up over me. About an hour later i ventured out for a cigarette. I sat down beside the gentle giant. I told him that my german ex girlfriend had had an abortion in Germany. He said:
“Did she send you back the pieces?”
I thought this was a disgusting thing to say. I was going to get up and leave but i stayed to finish my cigarette. He tried to apologise in his own way, in an indirect way but i will never trust him again.
There is another woman on the ward who justs sits in a chair and stairs into space. I dont know whats wrong with her.
There’s another man in here. He says that he is going to kill his bank manager. Why you may ask? He told me that his bank manager phoned his wife at 8pm on a Friday night and told her that if she didnt put money into the bank to pay off her mortgage then he would throw her and her family out on the street. The man here in hospital has a brain tumor at the base of his brain. He is in constant pain. They have him on heavy pain killers. It was so funny just now. I was outside having a cigarette he nearly fell over on the bench because he is so stoned on pain killers. Apparently he has told his bank manager that the bank is getting no more money. I think he has his mortgage payed but he owes interest or something.
I am so glad to have a good mother. I love her so much. When i was sick as a child with asmtha she used to take really good care of me. I would hear her coming into the house. Her high heals would click on the floor. When i had to go to hospital as a child with the asmtha my mother would sleep in the hospital because she knew i would be upset if she left. If i was at home she would let me sleep with her up until the age of about 10. I think my dad was jealous. Maybe thats why i have so much agro with him in later life. Does he hold me responsible for his seperation from my mum?
Its the 16th of january 2013. I havent written any of my book in a couple of months. Anyway, I am still in hospital. I am taking 75mg of Efexor antidepressant and nexium in the morning and 350mg of chozapine at night. My psychiatrist reduced my anti depressant because she thinks I am not depressed. Its bullshit. My main problem is depression. I also suffer from extreme anxiety. The Chlozapine is totally knocking me out. I can not get out of bed in the morning. It takes about 5 nurses to wake me up. And yet the doctors want to keep me on Cholozapine.
As regards my alcaholism I think I have beaten the drink. I have been in hospital now around 8 months. I have been escaping and binging on alcahol on average once a month. I havent had a drink since Christmas. Please God I’ll have the stength to stay off it. If i play my cards right i should be out of hospital within a month.
My family are still playing sick psychological games with me. I will never be able to fight them off unless I make a lot of money. Hopefully I get this book published and Hollywood makes a film about it and I make some money.
Chapter 7:
A Happy Ending?
So this is the end of my book. Born in Derry. Lived in Donegal until i was 4. Moved to Navan. Went to school in Navan – primary and secondary school. Then i went to Letterkenny RTC for 6 months. The lecturers over worked the students. I dropped out. Went to Bordeaux for 4 months. Back to Ireland to start my degree in journalism. When I finished I worked in Bord Gais in Dublin City Centre. Why did I not get a job in Journalism? Went out with the Italian femme fatale. Worked in Tara Publishing, then Business and Finance Magazine. Got fired. Did a TEFL course to learn how to teach English. Worked in Dublin as a teacher. Flew to Italy to teach. Got fired. Went to Venice. Worked in an Irish bar. Got assaulted by the Italian police. Came back to Ireland. Kept writing my novel. Had a nervous breakdown as the USA and Britain invaded baghdad. Ran away from the Irish police and family doctor because i was so scared of psychiatry. Swam up the river Boyne to get away. My mum saved my life. Went to hospital in 2003. I have been in and out of hospital since 2003. In 2006 i met the German girl. We flew to porto. I stayed. She flew home. I had a great time in Portugal although i didnt get a job. Got committed, drugged and flown back to Ireland. Into St Pats hospital. In 2007 I go back to Portugal. I travel down The West Coast of Portugal and down into Spain. Ran out of money and nearly died. I thought that there were thousands of young people being raped and murdered in Cadiz. When I arrived in Cadiz there was a protest. For what I dont know. Am I paranoid? Back to hospital. 2008 i flew to Chicago. I was on heavy medication so the trip was a disaster. 2009 I flew to Orlando, USA. Took the Greyhound bus down to Miami. Spent about 2 months in Miami. Ran out of money. Nearly died. 2010 I flew to New York. Ran out of money. Nearly died. 2011 got an apartment in Navan. Did fuck all. Now its 2012 and i have been in hospital for half a year. What lies ahead? I will send this book to loretta barett books in New York. I hope to God they like it and promote it. Is this book worth reading? I think it is. Its a first hand account of growing up in ireland 1976 – 2012. It describes the affect that my parents seperation had on me. This book describes going to primary and secondary schools and then university. It describes work in Dublin and relationships. Then i become mentally ill thanks to my father and an Italian girl. I describe that and how it culminates in my having to go to hospital. I try to describe the different medications for the condition that I have. So i think this book is worth reading. I hope Hollywood takes an interest in it and makes a movie about it. They will need a stuntman to capture the scene of me running away from the police and family doctor and jumping into the river to get away. If Loretta Barrett Books is not interested I will send the book all over the world. If I make some money from it i will by an Audi TT and an apartment in the Southwest of France. I am also hoping to get into the stock exchange. I will buy gold.
Has Ireland been invaded due to my Osama Bin Laden Theory? Was 9/11 a ransom for me? Did the Americans and The English and some other countries go on ‘the crusades’ after 9/11?
My cousin said that life for a man is about money and women.
While I was in hospital I wrote my book. I sent if off to the publishers. A month later I got a letter saying that they wanted to publish. I received a cheque in the post for $1m. Then I got another letter from Hollywood asking for the film rights. They were going to offer me $10m. I accepted. I immediately bought flights for myself and Ellen to Los Angeles. We took a taxi to Dublin airport and got on the plane. When we arrived in LA we went into a pub and sat up to the bar. I was really excited. We ordered two double whiskeys and coke. We clinked glasses and I said:
“To the USA!”
Ellen looked at me with love in her eyes and smiled.
I had escaped!
Copyright Damien Leech
