Strange Sally Diamond(14)

Dearest Sally,

I have spent most of your life keeping you away from psychotherapists, psychiatrists (apart from me) and psychologists.

My profession would never admit this but most of what we do is not very scientific, more like guesswork. Every decade or so, we come up with new labels to categorize people. You could have been diagnosed with anxiety disorder or PTSD. Some might even have said you had Autistic Spectrum Disorder, or that you had an attachment disorder. The fact is that you are a bit odd, that’s all.

You are you. As unique and different as every other person on the planet. Your oddities are not disabilities (although we call them disabilities to get your welfare allowance), they are mere quirks of your personality. You don’t like talking on the phone and I don’t like cauliflower. Are we so different?

I have never been able to diagnose you because none of those categories make sense of the person you are. No label would be able to account for all the contradictions of your behaviour. Sometimes, you are curious. Other times, you couldn’t care less. You are emotional about things that wouldn’t matter to other people but can be unmoved by things that would devastate others. You don’t like talking to strangers, but occasionally I cannot stop you talking to them; remember when the Jehovah’s Witnesses came to the house?

Most of the time, you don’t like when people look at you, but sometimes you stare people in the face, examining them. (I guess that you want to know more about them. I need to remind you that makes people a little uncomfortable.) Your behaviour has always been inconsistent. It is not bad. But you don’t fit any diagnosis of which I am aware.

The issue now is that I don’t think it’s wise for you to live alone out here. I may have been unwise to indulge your self-isolation. I’m not sure that you ever feel lonely. Your decision-making processes aren’t always what we refer to as ‘normal’ and that can lead to trouble and uncomfortable situations. I think you need guidance. Sometimes, you become confused about issues that are important. Your reluctance to approach people is to your detriment. I know that you like and trust Angela, but you cannot depend on her for everything. She runs a busy practice. And she and Nadine need time with each other also so you can’t go running to them with every question. I have made you dependent. That was my mistake.

I feel responsible for you being such a loner and this house doesn’t help. It has already begun to deteriorate here and there, like me. And it is too isolated, like you.

The car isn’t going to last forever and, while you could easily get another car, I think your mother was right all those years ago when she said we should find a way to socialize you. I know you hated living in Roscommon town but you need to be around more people. Would you consider moving into Carricksheedy village? Also, you don’t need a three-bedroom house. It was selfish of me to allow you to spend your time alone in this house with only me for company.

We have let the back field grow wild and unkempt. Do you remember when your mother maintained it as a wildflower meadow? It hummed with bees and butterflies in the summertime. It is one of my many regrets that we did not keep that up. You made up a song about it. Please keep up that singing and playing the piano for the rest of your life, it brings you peace and no doubt could bring joy to others.

I think Ger McCarthy has had his eye on the land for a while. He asked me about it a few years back but I was afraid to make changes that might upset you. I treated you like a child. I’m sorry, my love. He’d probably renovate the house and farm the land that adjoins his own. He’s already leasing the second back field, as you know. I’d advise you to sell to him, but be guided by the estate agent. This house is a good-sized bungalow with big rooms, although neglected. But the acres surrounding it are fertile and ideal for cattle grazing. As secluded as we are, the village is spreading outwards. There are apartments on the main street now. Who would have thought it? Maybe you should see if there is one for sale?

Would you consider getting a job? I can’t think of anything that would suit you but I think getting away from home on a regular basis would be good for you.

By the way, you don’t have to worry about the bills, they all are on a direct debit and Geoff Barrington will see to it that they continue to be paid while probate is processed.

In the beginning I thought it was funny that you pretended to be deaf. But now, I think it was unwise. You should talk to people. Ask them about themselves. A simple ‘How are you?’ is enough to start a conversation. Try to look them in the face. Even if you don’t want to know the answer, you will eventually develop friendships. The only opportunity you had to do that was in school and, despite your unhappy experience there, there were some nice girls who tried to help you. Remember them? In the outside world, you will find more people who are kind than people who are not. Seek them out.

Janet Roche runs a painting class and it would be a nice way to get to know people. Ian and Sandra in the library in Roscommon run all kinds of groups and I know they run a class to teach people how to use computers. It doesn’t cost anything. I’d start with that if I were you.

That is all for now, my love. Have a good week. Before you open the last letter next week, I want you to have a good meal and a small whiskey. There is a lot of information to take in and I don’t want to bombard you with everything all at once.

Your loving Dad



Why would I move house? I liked living here. I didn’t want to be in the village, and I certainly didn’t want to socialize. I could be a childminder perhaps. To Abebi and Maduka. Martha and Udo might let me look after them sometimes. They wouldn’t have to pay me.