Mary Part II

Like most young Irish people in the 1980s, I left Ireland to look for employment. In  July 1984, I headed to New York to work as a nanny.  All my life up to that point, it had been my dream to see America but the whole time I was there I was chronically homesick.  America was good to me.  I made lovely friends but I pined to be home even though I knew home had nothing for me.  I wrote 24 letters a week.  Mary and my mother were the only ones that wrote back.  

After New York, I got another nanny job in Boston and worked for a fantastic family who went out of their way to treat me as one of their own.  I still wrote as many letters home. Mary always wrote back.  

In 1987, with the economy as bad as ever, I migrated to London. I got married in 1989 and started having the first of three boys in 1994.  In 1997, Hubbie got an offer of a move to Singapore.  I didn't know where Singapore was but I grabbed the opportunity with both hands. After ten years in London, I was ready to move and Ireland was still not an option.  In January 2002, we moved to Hong Kong.

By 2006, I had had enough.  Ireland was booming.  My oldest son had just turned 12 years old and was ready to start secondary school. It was 'make or break' time.  I had read somewhere that the most vulnerable years psychologically are between 13 and 15.    The time had come to move or wait another ten years until the youngest finished secondary school.  I started to make plans. 

I kept my expectations low.  My mantra that year was 'Expect nothing and you won't be disappointed' is the mantra I repeated to myself.  

Just before leaving Hong Kong, I started to get cold feet and expressed my doubts to my friends over lunch one day.  Sitting on a rooftop terrace in Repulse Bay overlooking the sea I wondered was I doing the right thing.  The boys were very happy in their school and Hubbie was allergic to the idea of returning to a country that had zero employment when he first left college.  The headlines on Irish Times told us that Ireland in 2006 had 100% employment.  It seemed too good to be true.     "I think you might be depressed," said Sam.   

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "Not with my personality." 

"It has nothing to do with personality," said Sam. "Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain. You should get it checked out." 

Even with all my planning, moving back to Ireland was the single most stressful move I ever made.  The 21-year-old who left in 1984 was curious, young and open to new experiences.  I thought I was coming home but I was wrong.  I was not the same person and I was not returning to Ireland I knew in 1984.   I was a 43-year-old married woman with three small children and a husband on the other side of the world moving to a country that had evolved fifty years ecnomically in the space of ten.    

Hubbie eventually transferred with his company to London and commuted at the weekends.  Sons then aged 12, 9 and 6 had mixed reactions to living in Ireland.  Sons (12) and (6) adapted immediately. Son (6) had a Cork accent within a week.  Son (9) sulked for the first year.   I hated being back.  In the first few weeks, I wondered, “What was the rush?”  It went downhill after that.  Every week, I either telephoned or called down to Mary's house who was now living in Passage West with her own family.    

She listened as I ranted about how awful my life was.  I could only tell her because I couldn't admit to Hubbie I made a mistake. Nor could I talk to the children as none of them wanted to come back in the first place.  I couldn't tell my parents as they were in the horrors that we would take off again.  There was no-one to talk to and so Mary, for the first few months, bore the brunt of my frustration.  One evening, down in her house, after one particular burst of bitterness where I raged that, "Ireland is supposed to be such a friendly place but I don't find it friendly at all....."     Mary stopped me.  "Ger," she said, "Do you know what you're like?"

“What?” I said.

“You walk into a room and say, “It’s a nice day isn’t it?” in such a way that you frighten people."

I looked at her doubtfully, "I do?"

"Yes," she said, "You're scaring people.  You need to lighten up.”

Mary advised me to go see my doctor and also gave me the name of an addiction counsellor she knew in Turners Cross.  I made an appointment to see my doctor the next day.  The doctor told me it was likely I was suffering from depression but rather than prescribe medication she decided to take blood tests first.  The results would take ten days and in the meantime, she recommended I take Pharmaton.  A week into Pharmaton, my brain changed.  I felt lighter and more at ease around my children.  The results of the test; I had an underactive thyroid gland the symptoms of which are identical to depression.    I also made an appointment with the counsellor.  I don't have any addictions, other than moaning, but after six weeks, just talking to a professional changed my entire perspective.  

    

It was a turning point.

I am forever grateful to Mary for having the courage to tell her friend that she was wrong.  Mary dared to do what no one would and helped me to see that my misery lay with me and no one else.  And as always, she did it with humour which always makes the medicine go down easier.