Snow in August

The trip to Limerick was a bad turning point in my relationship with Michael. It was during a heatwave and Michael had scheduled just a few hours to meet me in Limerick and sent me a schedule which crammed a huge amount into this few hours, adding 'Welcome to my World!' After some confusion when he'd gotten confused about whether he or I was booking the tickets as he kept swapping it around, he booked the tickets for early on the Tuesday - Tuesday being his special day. Michael knew better than me that the Green Bus was very unreliable, for myself I'd only been on it a few times to go to house sits, and it hadn't been great but as I prepared to go to Michael, the bus was so late it was covering the next bus as well as it's own schedule and thus also very crowded. Michael knew about this being fairly routine but hadn't told me. This meant the bus was running late for his packed schedule which he was so proud of - someone later told me that the packed schedule...

The scoping report was released and I still think this is part of what went wrong with him. One of his main schools was Sexton Street, which was named in the scoping report as one of the worst in the country. He would have had some sort of connection with abusers there. So he was more strange than ever in that last week.  He was moving me to Limerick almost immediately on returning from holiday.  Or not. It was the plan, it was what he'd told me to expect. But it didn't happen. This was normal in the two months, nothing he said went to plan, or rather the plans simply changed instantly and frequently.  I had arranged to meet with the HAP team to get the paperwork clarified and finished, I was registered as HAP eligible so it was just a small procedure or two now, they didn't even need my latest tax return, which I'd painstakingly downloaded and printed.  Michael knew I was meeting with the HAP team, he'd previously made so many claims that he'd help and support ...

  Famous Christmas scene in Limerick Limerick. August 2026.  I work weekends. At lunchtime I sat with my salad and looked at my phone. My eye was drawn to something, and I looked closer.  A year ago, someone in my life asked me to help them to commit suicide, and I immediately contacted their mental health team and asked them to come out. The person in question was a recluse, wouldn't go to them and wouldn't speak to them on the phone, and I had to badger the mental health service to come out. The person in question had attempted to get the means to commit suicide and I took this seriously while his friends said 'Oh, he's always like that'. I knew before I was trained that if someone is trying to obtain the means for suicide, they mean it.  The meeting which ensued was calm enough, but the person in question was open that they wanted to die, that they had a method in mind, and that they'd asked me to help them. The mental health team engaged, listened, changed t...

August 28th, 2026. Tonight I can't sleep because Michael's vainglory campaign is continuing in the press. I had to leave work early the same as last time. Questions come up.  If I'd not been autistic wouldn't I have refused to take the key fob and said to him 'If you're offering me an apartment, we need to discuss terms'. He relied on me not being able to, and he walked away.  How could I have been that stupid?  He knew I would be that stupid.  And that he'd play with me before throwing me away.  It's why he came back to try to administer the fatal blow that I don't understand.  Why destroying me and leaving me back on what he thought was the streets of Dublin, not Limerick, wasn't enough. The theft of my medical data indicates his intentions were never good. The theft and then holding it up to enrage and distress me, over and over again. 

Limerick, August 2026. The alarm wakes me at 6.15 and it's time to get ready for work. Clean work clothes are laid out and my bag and boots are by the door. I make my tea and look round the bedsit as I try to wake up. It's clean and tidy, ready for an evening of writing and study when I come home and my new ukulele is waiting for me with clean new strings. The walls are lined with exercise programme instructions from the neuromuscular therapist, there are souveniers on the cupboards, Leinster House, UL, events. Things are so different from two years ago, and so much has happened, one thing that reminds me of the penthouse is the floor, the same brown bare floor, the other thing is Michael and his associates still showing off in the press - I can't understand the psychology of a man who behaves like that after nearly killing me and doing goodness knows what to others. I make the bed, pack my lunch, check I've got everything, put my headphones on for 'The Belfast Polk...

This morning I woke up from dreams as I often do. Because I was never able to get appropriate therapeutic help, all I can do is suppress what I have survived and live each day but everything comes out in dreams. During my time with Michael, as he planned to move me to Limerick, he told me my rent would be covered by HAP and I would be able to get fuel allowance, he seemed obsessed with fuel allowance and getting me onto disability allowance. This would leave me with some money in my account, something I'd never had the luxury of before, I've lived in extreme poverty in Ireland in order to keep a roof over my head. I told Michael that the scenario he created meant I could probably seek the psychological help from a local clinic in Limerick, with the money I could have. His response was typical of him, he vaguely said 'We will help you with professional counselling'. There were several things he did there which he did a lot. He said 'We' as if someone else was inv...