Carcass The Real Picture of Ireland

 11  Nice beginnings of badness and a sad ending How could I have ended up in such circumstances? The story is very simple and probably hard to believe. About six years ago I had an accident (I write about all the details in my book), and as a result I was left without any support from the state. This led to me trying to commit suicide for the first time. Of course I failed, but then I spent almost a month in the psychiatric ward at the University Hospital in Kerry. The psychiatrist decided to prescribe me a relatively high dose of two different antidepressants and for two years while I was on them I was happier than I had ever been. High as hell, I don't remember much from this period, except that I was really happy. I felt as if there were very thick curtains separating me from the real world; It was like a crystal ball, cutting me off from any problems. I decided to tell another psychiatrist (doctors change more often than the weather in this country) that although I was ha...

 10  Tralee the buzzing metropolis of sex and business  My day is divided into three parts: Mornings: a rather circuitous walk to Lidl; around town; for fresh bread rolls and the things I usually eat for breakfast: tomatoes, olives, peppers (if I'm lucky and the kitchen in shelter is open); after breakfast: morning prayer in church, which takes me about 20-30 minutes and a phone call to my mum, I check if everything is OK with her and give her some information about my previous day and evening. After that I go to the library and spend time there until 1pm. Afternoons: if the weather is nice, I walk through the city park to Dunnes Stores Cafe for lunch - I've had the same menu for a few months now: turkey or bacon with salads. But it's the cheapest option in town and the ladies working there are exceptionally nice. Between lunch and coffee I have time to write a few notes from the day in my diary - handwritten. This diary is the basis for a future book. After coffee, I qui...

 9  Sláinte I receive disability benefits, but the payments have been suspended while the “deciding officer” performs his meticulous, detailed investigation. The question is: has my condition improved? Has anything changed for the better in the past two months since I became homeless and discovered this unknown world? Let’s start from the very beginning. The day I entered the house of evil, Eileen put me in the legendary room 16. At the time, the place was very crowded – there were already 7 guys sleeping in the bunks when I arrived (I won’t use the term “lived in” because that’s a far cry from the description). When she opened the door to this dark cave, tightly fenced off from daylight, I thought I was going to throw up. Everyone was smoking in there, and the entire space was thick with smoke. Of course, I had told the “office” earlier that I didn’t smoke, but Jason O’Mighty assured me that: “Smoking is prohibited in every room, so you would be fine”. I thought that I won't ...

 8  The “Deciding Officer” Gregg Conroy and his everlasting investigation All my troubles, the real one, began on the 8th of January - that day I was supposed to get the letter from the Disability Section of Social Welfare in Longford. Unfortunately as my correspondence address I gave the “shop” of one of my friends; the place is more like a store house without electricity, heating and water - basically just walls and locks to secure all belongings. The place is in county Limerick, a small village and of course I didn’t have any access to the mailbox. Therefore for a short time I wasn't even aware of any issue. Last payment of my disability I received on the 8th of January, after that somebody reported me and the officer Conroy began his work. One week after my last payment, which was transferred to my bank account, I noticed that the next scheduled payment didn’t appear on my account. Firstly I thought it might be a system issue. Usually I saw the payment every Tuesday night....

 7  Move, move like nobody's watching  My first experience with the homeless community was Finnegan's Hostel, which I call the "house of evil". I crossed the street and, pulling a suitcase on wheels, went to the gray, ugly house indicated by the clerk in the office. A middle-aged woman in leggings and with curly blond hair was washing the floor by the entrance. After a short introduction and a few standard questions such as: where I was from, what I had been doing, etc., she led me to the place where I was to spend my nights in peace and quiet, free from all temptations. Before I entered the room where I had been assigned the bed, I smelled a strong stench of marijuana and cigarette smoke in the stairwell. The smell was very intense and I knew it was not a good sign. I followed her, answering the question she threw at me, and heard: "This place is probably not for you. You would definitely be better off in Poland. Your country is in a much better state now than b...