April Fool’s Hijinks…

Monday, I was a bad Andrew. I got this large rubber snake from dad and tied some thread to it. I hid it on the other side of the couch. Tracy was sitting on the couch with her laptop when I pulled the thread and the snake came quickly slithering through the room and over the rug. She jumped up, screamed, and almost dropped her laptop.

“I could kill you, Andrew!” Tracy exclaimed exasperated as she then broke out into much hysterical laughter.

My joke on dad was that I called him and asked if he could bring me some left handed toilet paper from the pharmacy seeing that I am left handed. He didn’t take the bait. “April fools!” he hollered as he laughed jovially. My mother would have fallen for it.

Thankfully, nobody pranked me on the 1st. I kept expecting my father to do something dastardly.

Sexual Dreams…

Sometimes my subconscious can surprise me. I had the most pleasant dream last night. It was garnered by an old friend from college. There were many very gentle caresses and tender touching. It left a big impression on me this morning.  I am still daydreaming about it because it seemed so vividly real. .

There’s Nothing More Important Than Family…

“Your hair looks pretty tonight,” dad said rubbing the back of my head as we sat on my couch. “You have hair just like my father’s.”

“Why did you do that today about the orange drink?” I asked, diverting my father’s affections.  “You carry it too far sometimes.  You and mom can both go overboard.  I have too few comforts left.”

“I’m sorry,” my father replied kindly.  “We just don’t want you to go back to the way you were.  Do you realize how far you’ve come?  You are like a different person – a completely different person.  You are the son I lost years ago.”

I sat quietly watching The Weather Channel waiting on my medications to take effect.  Dad was very, very late tonight and it was almost midnight.   I had grown so weary I was about to collapse.  I had almost given up on him and gone to bed. 

We watched as the clock on my television turned to midnight.  A huge cacophony of fireworks erupted in my neighborhood. Maggie was outside bringing in the New Year by barking her fool head off trying to protect me, dad, and the house from all the noise.   The drug dealer next door was throwing a big party and two boys were fighting drunkenly in the front yard.  I sighed. Dad chuckled.

“I love you son,” my father said, holding my hand.  “There’s nothing more important than family.  That’s why we are always going to stick by you from now on.  I will never let you go back to that monster you once were.  I promise you that from the bottom of my heart.”

A tear streamed down my face and dad wiped it off.  I’ve come so far, but it’s been hard – very hard.  You would never understand the pain on those first days I quit drinking and I wanted a drink so badly I could die.   I would never imagine making it through a New Year’s Eve sober a few years ago as well.  I realize my father means to do the best for me now.  Without his help, I would still be a drunken wretch, or even worse – a mentally ill homeless drunken wretch.

“Name two things that would make you feel better,” dad said, patting my knee after letting go of my hand.

A glimmer of  joy lit up my eyes.

“What would you like for the New Years?”

“I would love a new 2 Terabyte hard drive for my computer and a steak dinner from Barne’s,” I replied, hopeful.  I never get to shop or eat steak much and Christmas was such a boon it had whet my appetite for such things.

It all sounded so contrite and materialistic, but those were the simple two things I wanted.  I long ago ceased to make insurmountable New Year’s resolutions. 

“It’s a done deal,” dad said, smiling.  “We will go eat at Barne’s restaurant tomorrow night and I will order your hard drive.  You just promise me to stay sober and to take your medications.”

You could see the relief in dad’s eyes.  He thought I would make wishes much harder to fulfill.  Like asking for money again.  That would be impossible for him to grant at this current point in my life. 

“All I want for the New Year is for my children to be healthy and happy,” dad said before leaving as he stood up.  “I am determined you are going to be such a way.”

I stood up as well to walk him to the door.  Despite my tired weariness, I had a big grin on my face.  It has been such a good few weeks mentally and tonight with my father warmed my heart.  Dad is not very affectionate – usually hard as stone.  I bid dad goodnight and came directly in here to write this while it was fresh upon my mind.  Happy New Year’s!!!

Blog Beginnings and Looking Ahead...

One bitterly cold December night years ago I got on the web at my deceased grandmother's house and searched for information about homelessness.  I had been homeless for about 2 months, recently divorced.  I found The Homeless Guy blog.  Wow! Homeless people have websites and people are helping them too!  I quickly realized, though, that this "homeless guy" was a con.  There was nothing to help the homeless on his site.  Only him.  His gift bags for the homeless idea was something for Christian "do gooders" to do when a lot of the homeless wanted burgers, cigarettes, and beer. 

I did start my own blog.  It was called "Homeless and Disabled in Alabama."  Wasn't that just pretentious?  The Homeless Guy listed me on his blog as "The Grumpy Old Man" because I criticized his criticism of getting chicken everyday at the Rescue Mission.  At the time, I would have been so appreciative of any meal not cooked lukewarmly over a fire.  The Grumpy Old Man moniker stuck and I named my next blog after that just to spite the old curmudgeon and he was over a decade older than me. 

Years later, we are both still blogging.  He is about to be homeless again, failing to pay his $150 dollar a month rent.  I think I have grown immensely these past few years and haven't had to belabor my readership with needs and requests for money.  I am still overly dependant upon my parents, but not in a burdensome way.   I am happy most days, content to go about my simple life. I also realized with kindness that the least of "The Homeless Guy's" problems was not having a home.  He has some deep seated emotional problems that no drug or possibly only therapy can fix.  I had to become the better man and be less critical of him.   It was hard, and probably one of the hardest things I have done since writing this blog.  He invites criticism by the way he writes on his blog and interacts with others. 

I thought tonight what I want to be doing next year this time.   Another Christmas will be approaching and I will be going on 38 years old.   My main goal is to be independent and working for someone other than my father.   I realize social security disability can be willy nilly and I can't always rely on that being there.  I also want my schizophrenia to be in complete remission along with these anxiety attacks I am struggling with.  That might mean a second opinion from another doctor.  I will cross that bridge when I get there. 

Oasis of Light...

Last night I fell asleep dreaming of computers -- of RAM and Motherboards. Video cards and processors. It was a pleasant dream of one of my favorite hobbies besides model railroading. I dreamed of building computers and someday making a living putting together machines for clients.

I once got hired by our local Catholic Church to update their computers. I was never a good business man and did it for cost. My then wife was exasperated with me. "We need the money," she would moan. "And you're giving out charity." It was more about my love of the hobby rather than the dollars I could earn. I will never forget the smile on the church's secretary's face when she booted up her now fast computer. She gave me a hug. It was the best payment I could ever get.

While we are on the subject of my ex-wife, I have been doing a lot of thinking about Rachel lately. Rosa's been asking me a lot of questions about my failed marriage. She can't imagine this bachelor tied down. I miss our Boston Terrier -- an affable little fellow of a dog. I miss Rachel's quirks -- her cerebral-ness and voracity for reading. Rachel and I were strange souls and very suited for each other. If only the drinking and the schizophrenia didn't get in the way, we would still be happily married. I miss Rachel's femininity the most. Rosa is not very feminine. I long for makeup and the smell of perfume and bath oils -- the wiles of femininity beknownst only to a woman.

Treating myself to some Colby cheddar this morning. I love it at room temperature and cut a large hunk and wrapped it in paper towel before going to bed. This finds me munching on cheese and crackers, and drinking a big glass of orange juice this morning. Each bite reminds me how blessed I am as far as having plenty to eat and nourishing food at that.

It is another brutally cold morning. I donned my favorite sweatshirt and sweat pants to set out for my morning walk. I made it to the end of my driveway before turning around and running back inside. I just couldn't deal with all that cold this morning. I would make a terrible homeless person these days unlike Ferret. The sky was pitch black like pools of squid's ink in the predawn light. Street lights shone like little oasis in the dark lighting the way and beckoning me onwards. Daybreak will no doubt find me down at the shopping center so I can once again live vicariously through Ferret's experiences in homeless-hood. I hope you all have a great day.

Vocational No-habilitation...

I still haven't heard back from vocational rehabilitation.  I am thinking I may need to do a follow up call.  I am still excited though.  I dreamed last night that I was a working man.  It was a pleasant dream of where I had gotten my first paycheck.  Sadly, the paycheck all went to bills, but it still felt so good to be able to pay my way.  I think that is so important for the mental health of a man to be self supporting. 

Lately, I am dreaming lots as in daydreams.  I dream of a newer, faster computer.  Of ordering the parts and putting it together.  Of picking out the processor, motherboard, and RAM.  Of playing the latest games with full graphics even though I rarely play games these days.  I dream of buying my own little pickup truck by the sweat of my brow.  I also dream of cameras and being able to buy a digital SLR.   It has been years since I've had these feelings and it feels hopeful, good, and healthy. 

Big Plans for the New Year and the Blog

I have big plans for this New Year and the blog.  I want my life to be about recovery and hope.  I want to share with you all as I make forward progress into getting my life back on track.  I want to become a better and more descriptive writer.  I want to get involved with vocational rehabilitation and get off disability.  I want to be a self supporting man -- a man of means, full of hope and goodwill.  I also want to get involved in A.A. again.  I am lamenting the fact that so few meetings are now held locally.  I tend to be a perfectionist, an all or nothing fellow, and want to go to meetings twice a day.  I can't do that without a car.  Thank you all for reading along and I hope this journey proves beneficial to you as well.  HOPE and RECOVERY.  That is my new mantra.  Damn, I feel so good. 

Love Puts on a New Face...

I've had some of the most vivid dreams of my ex-wife lately. I wake up feeling lonely and missing her. Tonight, we were lying in the bed after making love in my dreams -- laughing and teasing each other. It was the first sexual arousal and avarice I've had in months coming off all those many psychiatric medications and I woke up elated. Her eyes looked into mine in my dreams and I just melted. She could be such a pretty woman in her own way and had her special moments. I'm just glad my dreams were pleasant, and not of the many vicious arguments we seemed to have on a regular basis during our tenure as husband and wife. I don't know how many nights she locked me out of the house. That truly would be a nightmare in its most vivid sense to relive those old moments.

She's working at a local bank now as a teller just down the road from my home. I don't know what happened to her passionate dreams of being a librarian. The immediate need for money seems to squelch such aspirations. Dad saw her the other day when he was getting another loan for his business. She's is still driving that Volkswagen Turbo Beetle I bought for her. That car must be on its last legs by now. I am sure our Boston terrier, Otis, is still tearing up the couch cushions and shitting on the floor. She was a rabid bookworm and collector as well. I wonder how many new bookcases filled with books she has in our old house these days. I still look on EBay and see she is still selling all my books from when we were married. All my many Star Trek novels she considered so cheesy are finding new homes.

"Your ex-wife's a big woman!" my father said, jokingly, the other day. Ever so shallow as my family can be. "She seems to gain more and more weight!"

I scoffed and grew defensive. I've always thought larger, voluptuous women are prettier and more sensual.

"She just struggles with her weight," I replied, understandingly. "It's all that pasta and carbohydrates she is addicted to."

My father laughed and I can't believe I stuck up for Rachel. There was a time in my life I wished she would go away to never see her again. I hated her to use a harsher and less kind term. I can be shallow as well.

Me and Rachel had a whirlwind courtship. I met her at the Country Club hosting the reception of my brother's wedding. She had been best friends with my sister growing up and we hadn't seen each other in years. I always thought she was too young for me and my, had she grown up. She was now a woman in its purest sense, and was no longer that pig tailed little brat I remembered from my youth. I was sitting at the bar, drinking a beer as she walked by with a beautiful and demure smile to go dance on the dance floor to some cookie cutter country tune by a less than stellar band. We would end up in the bed days later after a flurry of emails and phone calls. Marriage would follow a few months later. We moved too fast. We were in love and blind to the realities of life and the practicalities of a more tempered relationship. Love seems to put on a new face after the newness of being newlyweds and lovers wears off.

I loved her deeply and I still miss her. There are times I wish we could reconcile. She's lonely. I'm lonely. I just know she would play out those same old patterns of extreme, very extreme jealousy, though. I just couldn't live with that again. If I still drank, I would toast her right now and drown my sorrows in a few dozen beers. Instead, I am left with the raw, sober emotion of missing her -- memories of the smell of her hair. The feel of her skin. Her laugh during the rare happy moments during our marriage. Memories to cherish and probably far better to harbor them than the harsh reality of being married to her again. Hindsight is always 20/20 as they say, and time seems to mellow those old negative feelings of hurt and scorn -- the baggage from a relationship lost. I believe in fairytales, and maybe my princess charming is yet to be met. I do hope so and grow ever hopeful.

A Bridge of Worlds

I love when it's cool in the morning. I fell asleep with nothing but a sheet and the white noise drone of my box-fan by the bed. I awoke beneath a mound of freshly washed comforter, the strong smell of Gain fabric softener invading my nostrils. I had such a realistic dream about The Homeless Guy. Me and a childhood friend were sitting in a rescue mission, eating a sparse lunch, destitute and penniless. He came walking in with new clothes, computer laptops, digital cameras, and donations of cash from his blog. We were jealous. "Homeless people don't live like that," I told Jason, my friend, over rancid rice filled with mealy bugs. "Why work when gullible people will send you things for free?" was the Homeless Guy's reply, overhearing us. I remember feeling angry at his words and woke up feeling that way. The dream would end with The Homeless Guy in my father's pharmacy begging for medications for his high blood pressure. My father, the kind man that he is, didn't tell him to just lose weight, and would go on to help the wily guy solve yet another of a never-ending string of problems that is his life. I finally stirred awake with the epiphany that we love to hate in other people what we hate in ourselves. At least, I do. And I have certainly had my fair share of life crippling problems like that fellow. My dream was filled with jealousy and raw, negative emotion because of it. Some say that dreams are the bridge between waking life and the afterlife. I am glad I don't believe in that claptrap as some of the nightmares I've experienced are best forgotten and not relived throughout all eternity. I certainly don't want to spend my afterlife feeling angry and jealous.

Rendezvous with Rachel

It is well after midnight. My ex-wife has come over with our Boston terrier, Otis. We are lying in the bed after making love.

"Have you missed me?" she asks.

"I've missed you more than anything," I reply as I brush the hair out of her face.

Otis and Maggie are in the den. You can hear them play fighting loudly.

"I got promoted at work," my ex-wife tells me. "I am now head librarian."

"Being a librarian was always your calling," I reply. "You still read a book every few days?"

"You should see my house," she replies. "You almost can't walk there are so many books. I've started selling them on E-Bay. I've actually made a few hundred dollars."

"Do you regret us getting a divorce?" I then ask wistfully.

"I don't know," Rachel says as she sits on the edge of my bed as she puts back on her bra. "I miss you, but I don't miss your drinking and crazy ways."

"It was pretty bad, wasn't it?" I say.

"If you were only like you are now then we would still be married," she replies as she gets up to put the rest of her clothes on.

"Well, I need to head home," she says. "I have to be at work early in the morning. I love you."

"I love you too, doll," I say as I walk her into the den as she puts Otis back on his leash to leave. "Tomorrow night?"

"I'll see you tomorrow night," Rachel replies. "Let's go up to Newnan and eat at our favorite Chinese restaurant."

I suddenly wake up, breathing heavily. It was one of the most realistic and vibrant dreams I have had in years. I can still remember how Rachel's skin felt as we lay unclothed in the bed and the smell of her hair. I sit on the edge of my bed as I light a cigarillo trying to decide if what I just experienced was a good dream or a nightmare. I do know it made me miss my ex-wife deeply. I will never be able to get back to sleep now. It is time for coffee and breakfast as I put these vivid memories behind me.