My Mother Is The Best Storyteller. And

... I Am More Of An Ambler. I Once Overheard My Old Boss In Dublin Describe Me As Very "hello Trees, Hello Flowers." It Was Intended As An Insult And It Fulfilled Its Brief; I Was Insulted. I Had Little Interest In Greeting Trees And Flowers But Nor Did I Treat Life As A Treadmill, On Which It Was Vital To Keep Fleeing Forward In Order To Avoid Being Sucked Off The Back And Out Of The Game.

My Truth Is That What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Weaker Rather Than Stronger, Although It Makes You Wiser.

People Get Sick And Sometimes They Get Better And Sometimes They Don't. And It Doesn't Matter If The Sickness Is Cancer Or If It's Depression. Sometimes The Drugs Work And Sometimes They Don't. Sometimes The Drugs Work For A While And Then They Stop. Sometimes The Alternative Stuff Works And Sometimes It Doesn't. And Sometimes You Wonder If No Outside Interference Makes Any Difference At All; If An Illness Is Like A Storm, If It Simply Has To Run Its Course And, At The End Of It, Depending On How Robust You Are, You Will Be Alive. Or You Will Be Dead.

Medically Speaking, There Is No Such Thing As A Nervous Breakdown. Which Is Very Annoying To Discover When You're Right In The Middle Of One.

I Rang My Mother To Thank Her For Giving Birth To Me And She Said, "what Choice Had I? You Were In There, How Else Were You Going To Get Out?