Monthly Archives: January 2015

Keys to the Past

I’ve had a lot of change in my life in the last ten years. Tried one career, failed, and tried another (it seems to be sticking). Tried one relationship, really really failed, then tried another (that one seems to be sticking too). Moved house four times, from a shared house to a shared flat to a flat on my own to my own flat and now to the house I live in in the suburbs. Got married. Lost my Mum. Had my little boy…


It’s funny how all that change led to small pockets of resistance within me. I still have items about me that are no longer in use by me, but which I retain nevertheless.  An example of this is my set of keys. I have on it the old house key to my family of origin’s house, a key for a lock that isn’t there any more. Same goes for the key into the kitchen. It was where you’d find my Mum, and the family jack russell, both usually the ones I’d be missing the most. There would be something in the fridge or in a biscuit tin or in the oven to eat. And there would be a chat, a welcome, something that would remind you you’re home.

That door isn’t even there any more. They renovated the place long after I moved out, and I found some element of sentimentality kept it on my key ring. The same instinct applies to most of the keys on it, for some reason I’ve kept keys that don’t exist any more, have no where to go. I couldn’t use this key now if I tried, there’s no door there to let me in.


I’m going to get rid of all of these old, unwanted keys. I’m going to walk around a little lighter, without all these keys to remind me of places I can no longer go.

Except for that kitchen key. That one I’m keeping.

I have read a buk…

It is a startling, scary thing to admit but I have read a book. I did, it was a grown up book and everything. It was called For God’s Sake, and you can find details about it here.

For God's Sake: The Hidden Life of Irish Nuns, by Camillus Metcalfe

I found myself actually growing more and more suspicious about the book as I read it. There is nothing itself within the discipline of Psychiatry that ensure the remove of a status quo. This certainly applies in Ireland as it does elsewhere, where the wheels of the medical profession move to stock up and ensure that the dialogues of power are enforced and encouraged.

The book starts with the nuns’s statements being discussed and broken down. Along with that there is an introduction to each nun’s statement that explains their flaws, sins, and ‘blindness’ as to their own flaws.  There is no clarity as to where there is any direct transcript of these women’s voices, only the presentation of them through the filter provided by the author/editor. So the book is, while possibly accurate, a nice example of the operations of power that can exist in a society.


TL;DR; Nuns were good, now they were bad. M’kay?