Part Time Work...

It is tentative, but I've been putting out feelers about part time work today. I have visited several stores around the Valley inquiring about employment.  I can work with disability. I just have to keep the money I make under a certain level and there won't be any penalties. I want a menial, simple job with little responsibility like stocking shelves for a few hours every morning and then going home.

The only catch? I have to have a valid copy of my driver's license.  Dad keeps it away from me just for this very reason. Originally, it was to deter visits to the pawn shop years ago when I first quit drinking.

The manager at Family Dollar and Fred's Super Dollar said they'd both put me to work in the morning if I just had a valid copy of my license to drive. The manager at McDonald's told me to apply online.

I have a copy of my license, but it expired in 2011. I do have a copy of my social security card so we are halfway there. I also have a copy of my birth certificate that my ex-wife gave me. Maybe I can get a new license down at the office in Opelika.

Obsessive Auburn Fans…

“Your father has watched the Auburn game three times today over and over,” mom said as she walked in my house. “He is just obsessed!”

“What are you doing?” I asked, smiling at mom’s exasperation and also surprised at mom’s unannounced visit.

“I just couldn’t take it any more and came over here to be with you where it is quiet. Your father is going deaf and turns the TV up so loud it is maddening.”

I went back to toodling with my computers as mom lay on the bed in the computer room talking about all her problems which she seemingly has many.  Caramel was sleeping on the couch and Maggie jumped up on the bed to be with mom.

“I finally got my pain pills,” mom told me as she lay there on her side. “I was determined not to hurt anymore.”

“Have they helped?” I asked, intrigued.

“Immensely!” mom exclaimed. “I just took two before coming over here. I am waiting for them to take effect. My back and leg is killing me. I have found I have to take two pills to get the best effect.”

Things got quiet after awhile as I looked over at the bed and mom had fallen asleep. I turned down the Bjork CD I was listening to and settled in for a quiet and pleasant afternoon of browsing the web and blog writing.

George’s First Day of Work…

Tomorrow is the big day – a day of reckoning for me. Will George show up for work? Will he work hard and please my old supervisor? I have a friendship in my old supervisor riding on this. I am pretty content that George will do his best. He has always been a hard worker. 

I talked to George briefly on the phone this afternoon.

“Run me by the shot house,” he asked pleadingly.

“No way!” I said. “That is just too much temptation and you don’t need to be spending your mother’s Social Security money on prostitutes!”

George laughed goodheartedly acquiescing and agreed it would be a lot of temptation for just his second day home. I was relieved when he dropped the subject and we started to talk about work.

“What is my boss like?” George asked.

I thought for a long moment about how best to describe her.

“Sexual,” I finally said bluntly.

“Hot damn!!!” George said laughing. “I like a sexy boss!”

I laughed in turn.

I then asked George what Mrs. Florene cooked for Sunday dinner – glad that Mrs. Florene could settle back into her old routines she has performed for years.

“She cooked fried cubed steak, broccoli, rice and gravy, and biscuits,” he said. “You should’ve came and ate with us.”

It did sound wonderful, but I was soundly asleep around noon when Mrs. Florene would be getting out of church and cooking.

Looking Back on a Week in My New Position…

Well, I have now worked six days, eight days counting training, in my new position. I really like my job. I enjoy working at night – always having been a night owl. It is also pleasantly slow and stress free during the early hours of the morning. Derrick says days are gangbusters. My biggest fears were running the point of sale and handling money. I have never been good at math and making change, but the register does that for me thankfully.  Like Derrick said, “Even a monkey could run the point of sales.” Walmart makes it easy for even the most mentally deficient person.

Everynight is pretty much the same. I clock in around 10:50pm and put away my lunch, sodas and snacks, and put on my smock. 11pm to midnight is usually steady with the last customers of the day and then it settles into this quiet calm.  Much of my job is centered around stocking items for sale for the next day. I am also responsible for cleaning up the shelves, fronting the items, and getting things looking neat for the next day. I usually get caught up around 3am when Jim visits me on his lunch break and we talk for awhile.  Then, it is time to goof off and I get out my iPad or laptop. I am finding having the iPad at work to be much more stealthy – easily thrust under the counter when a customer or coworker approaches.  I am going to try blogging with it tonight with a new app Syd suggested. I am still getting used to the onscreen keyboard and the lack of tactile feedback.

I look forward to work tonight – having got lots of good sleep today. Before long, I will be cooking supper, ironing my clothes for work and will take a shower and shave. Just the mundane, daily rituals we all go through when working a job – rituals I didn’t have in my life for eight long years. It has been a pleasant and much needed change in my life – to have purpose and to be self supporting.

A Piece of the Puzzle Falls Into Place…

“I called your best friend’s old supervisor at the distribution center in La Grange,” my former supervisor told me this morning as I was getting off. “He said he was one of his best workers until one night he just didn’t show up. He had never missed a night before.”

“That’s when he got his DUI,” I replied. “He worked for almost two years without any lapses.”

“I am going to go out on a limb hiring a convicted felon, but his old supervisor and you have swayed me,” my previous supervisor told me. “When do you think he will be able to start work?”

“I am hoping next Monday if he gets parole,” I replied now grinning vigorously so excited.

“You better not let me down,” she said giving me a big hug. “I don’t want another disaster like I often have trying to fill this job.  I have the part-time guy working your old position and he is not happy about the hours at all, threatening to quit.”

I immediately drove home and called Mrs. Florene.  I was bursting at the seams to tell her of the good news.

“George has a job!” I told her excitedly.  “He will be working my old position from 5am to 1pm.  Do you think you can drive him to work?”

“Oh, sweetheart!” Mrs. Florene exclaimed. “That is wonderful news.  I sure will give it my best try.  I don’t like driving in the dark, but I can do it if I have to.”

I long ago realized it was going to take a very concerted and family effort to get George back on his feet.  He is going to need all the support we can give him.  Now, we just have to wait until Thursday to find out the final results.  I will be anxiously waiting all day for that call from Monte telling me if George got parole or not.

Up and At ‘Em…

Well, it is 4:00am and I am up and at ‘em.  Today, Monday, marks the start of my fourth week of returning to work.  Who would have thought I could have worked three days let alone four weeks a month ago.  A month ago, all I could think of was suicide I was so miserable.  Now? My life has taken on this 180 degree change.

Yesterday marked a whole day without anxiety.  Isn’t that just wonderful?  It was the first time in  years.  No social anxiety. No knots in my stomach.  No feelings of impending doom. I thought I was in heaven and relished every bit of it.  I’ve had some withdrawal coming off all those medications, but it is nothing compared to the symptoms I experienced on them.  Who would have thought all those medications that were supposedly helping me were the problem?  Dad still says I am crazy and am on a manic high and am going to crash soon.  Let’s hope he’s wrong.  He’s not perfect despite what he might think. He doesn’t know everything.   I keep having to remind him he is not a doctor nor my psychiatrist.

Charlie’s Idiosyncrasies…

Charlie came by late last night.  His wife had cooked a “tomato pie”.  It was this Italian dish with layers of garden fresh tomatoes and various Italian cheeses in a biscuit like crust.  It was delicious and a wonderful late night snack.  I ate both two large slices with relish before bed.  I always eat a large meal before retiring to bed. 

“I am buying the house next door to you as soon as it comes up for auction,” Charlie told me last night. “I found out today it is in foreclosure.”

“The drug dealer’s house that went to jail?”

“Yeap,” Charlie said. “We are going to extend your fence over to that house and let Maggie have more room to run.  I want Maggie to be my dog, too!”

I smiled.  It will be wonderful to have Charlie owning that house.  He will do what he normally does with a fixer upper.  He will flip the house and sell it for a profit.  Charlie relishes home improvement projects and will do most of the work himself.  I have never met a harder working man. 

“Saturday is Horsefly’s 39th birthday,” Charlie then told me. “I want you to come and if you can’t then I am bringing you birthday cake and hamburgers.”

“I would really like to be there,” I told Charlie. “I am feeling less socially anxious in years and think I can handle a large crowd.  What can I get Horsefly for his birthday?”

“Get him a bottle of Scope mouthwash,” Charlie told me with a laugh. “He can’t have enough bottles.  You should see the shelves in his room.  He has probably a hundred.  Just put a bow on it.”

I smiled at Horsefly’s weird obsessions and told Charlie I would do my very best to be there. Paxil don’t let me down!

A Possible Parolee?

“George might be eligible for parole in October!” Florene told me over the phone very animatedly and excitedly tonight. “I talked to him on the phone late this afternoon.  He said he is going to have to wear an alcohol monitoring device for months, though.  Possibly a year.”

“How did he feel about that?” I asked excited, but worried about my friends tendency to drink without thought.  The urge to drink can be all encompassing for an alcoholic at times. 

“He said he was willing to do anything to get out of jail,” she told me. “He promised me.  He said he would gladly give up drinking for his freedom. Andrew, he sounds so miserable!”

I can only hope my dear best friend gets home before Christmas.  October would be a boon. If George doesn’t drink and keeps his freedom then I vow not to drink as well in support when he gets home for as long as his monitoring device is on.  

George’s letters have been so morose and pessimistic lately.  He is absolutely miserable in jail as Florene had said on the phone. He says it is a horrible place.  He says he is constantly scared for his life.  A lot of guys fight and get hurt.  Prison gangs are prevalent.  I can only imagine.  I was in jail for five days one time with a broken arm and shoulder after a DUI related accident and it was absolutely horrific. I can’t imagine being there for months on end. 

Florene spoke of going to visit him soon.  George’s cousin Monte is going to drive Mrs. Florene’s car and I am going to tag along if I can get off of work that day.  The prison in Atmore is a very long drive – just miles from the Gulf Coast.  It will be an all day trip.  I would drive Mrs. Florene if I thought I could make it.  It will probably take five hours to drive to the prison. I’ve driven to Atmore many times when I worked for the University.  I’ve also passed that very same prison many times as well.  It is right on the main highway near the Creek Indian reservation. 

The Talk…

I hesitate to write about this as I don’t want to put my father in a bad light, but dad and I talked for a short while on the phone last night. I almost didn’t answer the phone, but one commenter had said he would think I was drinking when I didn’t answer and they were right.  He told me he was disgusted with me for doing that to him without asking – me returning to work and taking a job.  He said he wasn’t going to worry too much, though, as I would get too drunk to work when I got paid and would lose my job.  I calmly told him I was determined to work and I was going to surprise him about what he just said.  I wasn’t going to lose my job to drinking.    

“You’re not going to be able to work!” he then hollered at me over the phone very loudly and excitedly.  “You need to tell them you have a mental illness and that you have to quit.  Tell them that you tried, but you’re just not able to work a job.  You are sick!”

I didn’t say much.  I just listened.  I felt so terrible.  I felt horrible.  I felt like I had just pissed on a crucifix.  A lot of self doubt started to creep in. I absolutely hate upsetting my father.  I am terribly very scared of him.  He controls so much of my life and my well being. 

“You’re going to get in a mess and I might not be able to bail you out this time,” he told me. “Your going to lose your disability and your prescription drug coverage and live the rest of your life just crazy as nuts without medications.  Your medications cost $1300 dollars a month and I nor the pharmacy can afford to subsidize that!”

“You really need to be put in a home for the mentally incompetent,” he then said now with a calmer voice almost trying to plead with me as if he was trying to get me to agree to go. He will often threaten me with this when I am not doing well mentally.  “You can’t take care of yourself or make rational decisions.  Your crazy, son!  Don’t you know that?”

“I am not crazy!” I exclaimed growing angry at being told that. “I am tired of everybody in the family telling me that! I’ve been labeled!”

“There’s going to be conditions to you returning to work if you insist on doing this,” he then told me assertively growing ever calmer and ever calculating. “Your going to have to start paying rent.  The house is still in my name.  And I am tired of paying for your cigarettes!  Your mother is not going to bring you your Monday and Tuesday night meals anymore either.  Your going to have buy your own groceries.”

“I thought the house was part of my inheritance from Memaw?” I asked as one of the only few things I said.  “That’s what you told me when we traded this house with Charlie and I moved in.”

Dad grumbled some and told me we would discuss it further when he got home Thursday night.  He hung up abruptly without any pleasantries.  He was pissed. 

It went as I had expected. No real surprises.  Punishment, threats and coercion. I just didn’t talk much.  I was just too tired to fight after my big day of work yesterday.  I was exhausted.   I just want to be left alone to live my life as I see fit. I swear I wish I was an orphan.  I am not a child, though.  Yes, I’ve had a lot of problems in the past, but this doesn’t make me an invalid – a non entity. I have human rights and shouldn’t be treated that way.  I’m not as crazy as dad seems to think I am.  And I can make rational, sane decisions for myself.

Adventures in Yard Care Land…

I cut two yards today for $40 dollars in total in the far west side of my neighborhood.  One man wants me to come back tomorrow and cut down a huge mass of undergrowth on the side of his yard.  It is going to be a very big sweaty exhausting two day job, but he said he will pay me $75 dollars to do it thus allowing me to buy that muffler for my mower.  I am breaking it up into two days as not to overdo things.  Tomorrow and Friday are supposed to be two of our hottest days yet this summer.  I am going to save my two Klonopin to take just before I start work on his yard tomorrow afternoon and the next day as well.  I was very apprehensive about taking this job.  Riding around on a mower is one thing, but saws, clippers, and trimmers are a whole ‘nother matter and I am worried about my heart rate getting up and having a severe anxiety attack. I fear those things more than anything else in the world.  Even my father.  I am going to face my fears and try, though.  $75 more dollars would be so nice to have! The worst thing that can happen is that I can’t do it and won’t get paid. I will just have to go sit in my cool car until I calm down and then drive home. I am also going to use the $40 dollars from today to drive down to Best Buy Saturday and buy that camera part to get my camera working again!  That is going to be so exciting!  Get ready for lots of boring photos of Maggie again! LOL

The Cathartic Carts…

Work went well this morning.  I was a little tired from lack of sleep, but I handled it with aplomb. Today, I was quietly left to do my job with no supervision which was very, very nice. I wanted to settle into a regular and normal routine.  I want to know what to expect with each day with little surprises.  I didn’t want the socialization of yesterday that involved my coach showing me the ropes all morning.  I was thrown to the wolves as they say and I did fine.  There were only a few moments of stress when the carts seemed to back up faster than I could gather them, but I would eventually get caught up with persistence.  I kept having to tell myself that I used to be a research technician at a major university so surely I could handle this job.    

It is quite a solitary job other than the occasional contact with the greeter or a curious inquisitive customer and I quite like that part of it. It suites my social anxieties just fine.  It can be kind of cathartic gathering the carts and daydreaming as I do it.  I would get lost in my thoughts as I have so many grand plans rolling around in my head these days and the thoughts preoccupied me. The four hours flew by and I almost hated having to clock out and go home. It is so nice having something to do for a change even if it is such a menial task. I like the thought that there is going to be a nice paycheck in a few days on the way.  I am going to buy me a printer for my computer with my first paycheck and print out all my recent blog posts to send to George in jail.  He will love that.  That will be easier than trying to write him.  

No anxiety moments as well and I handled all social situations very well – even the situations involving my supervisor which usually make me very nervous. She’s been kind of doting over me about my disabilities – worrying about my ability to do the job.  I am feeling exceedingly well mentally these days, though.  I assured her at one point this morning that I was feeling fine – that I was going to do her a good job.  I can almost think I am not really schizophrenic or mentally ill and have just suffered from some sort of post traumatic stress disorder over the years from all the crap I have gone through in life to get this far.  I think the pressure my family puts on me has a lot to do with this which has about driven me crazy over the years thus the PTSD and my anxiety.

I thought I was going to be late when my alarm clock strangely didn’t go off, though, but I woke up in time to throw on some clothes, put on my smock, and then I quickly drove to work.  I had been up most of the night listening to Coast as I couldn’t sleep.  My schedule is still all out of whack after all these years of having no schedule whatsoever.  I am going to have to work on this.  I can’t be late for work.  Especially, not in the first few weeks.  I didn’t get a chance to shower.  I was running too late.  I put on lots of extra deodorant and took a quick sponge bath.  I smelled quite nice.  Like Old Spice.  In my haste, I also forgot my cooler of bottled water and ice at home and sorely missed it this morning.  It was a very hot and muggy morning today – a hard lesson to learn that will not be soon forgotten.  I hated to spend what little money I had on bottled water which is expensive – more expensive than gasoline.

“Do you need help with your groceries?” I asked this one nice looking lady as she exited the store and seemed to be struggling with her cart laden full of heavy items.

I had just corralled a big string of carts together to bring inside and was resting a moment in the parking lot before I added the mechanical pusher for the final push.

“That would be nice,” she replied. “Thank you.  I would appreciate it very much.”

I took a moment to unload her groceries into the back seat of her nice Toyota Tundra truck and she tipped me $5 dollars for the help.  I was elated.  That was so nice.  I used the $5 dollars to buy me some cold drinks thus saving the day money-wise.  I still have my $15 dollars left from my mowing yesterday.  I want to save it for gas for my mower and a special treat this evening.

I arrived home at lunch to find three messages on my answering machine.  They were all from Charlie.  He sounded frantic and disturbed.  My spirits sunk when I heard his message and realized what it was all about.  I hate this kind of frantic drama. 

“Andrew? Where are you? I was supposed to take you for your injection this morning at nine! I forgot!” Charlie said on the machine. “You father is going to kill us!  He will never trust me or you again!  You know how crazy he gets about you getting your injection.  He’s already called to see if you got it and I told him yes to cover for us.”

I had completely forgotten all about my antipsychotic injection.  I wistfully thought that’s why I have felt so well lately.  My medication had run out day’s ago.  I am tired of taking all these many pills and injections.  I think all these psychotropic medications I am on are a big part of my problems I have these days.  My brain is swimming in a chemical stew and these doctors aren’t really quite sure how they will affect us over the long term.  I have been labeled mentally ill and it is going to be one of my biggest battles to break that stigma and label. 

Charlie picked me up at 12:30pm and frantically drove me down to the pharmacy to pick up my injection and then to the doctor’s office as if any minute I would break out in a fit of craziness from lack of medication.  My regular nurse, Rebecca, was on vacation much to my chagrin when we arrived.  I had Crystal this afternoon to contend with and she can never figure out how to prepare my injection.  I had to do it as usual when she is there.  Also, small talk with her is a supreme struggle with her being as aloof as I and it makes me feel so awkward.  I missed my usual nurse – the talkative Rebecca that makes me feel so at ease and at home.  

“Where were you this morning?” Charlie asked inquisitively as we drove home up through the Valley. “You rarely leave the house.  It’s odd for you to not be there.”

“I was at work,” I replied sheepishly, but honestly. “I started a new job yesterday at Wal-Mart.”

“You know your father is going to shit a brick,” Charlie told me as he looked alarmed. It took him a few minutes to gather himself when I said it.  He about didn’t know how to respond. “What made you take a job?  Do you think you are actually able to work?”

“I just feel I need to be more independent.  Charlie, I get so tired of never having any money and sitting at home all the time with nothing to do. I want something productive to do with my days and my life. I want to build my self esteem.  I just want to be able to buy some goddamned groceries without getting the third degree when I run out!”

“Well, I can understand that,” Charlie said empathetically. “But I’m not sure your father will.  He will think you will spend all your pay drinking your days away.  He is maniacal about you and that drinking.”

“Charlie! I am 38 years old!” I exclaimed loudly and excitedly. “I am not some child!  I have to be able to make those choices for myself.  Dad can’t make them for me.  At one point in my life, dad was trying to find me jobs when I was married.  It was he who got me the job at Auburn which I hated with a passion – all that stress!  He thought it was prestigious and would brag about his son being a research technician all the time.  It was one of the most miserable times of my life.”

“I know,” Charlie replied. “Let’s just don’t worry about it.  We won’t mention it to your father until he gets home Thursday.  Let’s go get us some lunch.  I am hungry.  I want that Arby’s #19 special again.”

I smiled and agreed – relieved that moment had passed.  It was uncomfortable to talk about.  The #19 special would be nice.

We quietly sat in Arby’s and ate our meals until Charlie struck up a conversation again.  He wanted to know about work and what I was doing.  He was worried about my hours and pay, and how it would effect my disability allotment. He works for the government after all and knows what sticklers they can be. His job is deciding what funds can be allocated to certain community action projects. 

“I just carry the carts into Wal-Mart from the parking lot,” I told him.  “That’s all I do.  It is an easy and simple job, if not hot at times.  There is little stress involved.  A teenager works the shift after me to give you an idea of how easy the job is.”

“How are your anxiety issues holding up?” Charlie then asked.

“I am doing amazingly well so far, but I’ve only worked two days,” I replied. “I have really surprised myself with how well I am doing mentally.  My morning medications you give me at night have helped a lot with the anxiety.  I’ve had a few mental moments, but nothing that didn’t pass with some rest and a drink of water.”

“Well, you be careful,” Charlie said. “You know I am going to worry like hell about you.  I don’t want you to bite off more than you can chew.  I think your father will worry most that this will get you off mentally – the pressure of it all.  Work is a lot of pressure on a man.  And you haven’t worked in a very, very long time.”

“I know,” I said. “I sometimes wish I was a penis-less orphan.  I could never have kids to worry me and I wouldn't have an overbearing family of overachievers to contend with and that make me feel like shit and a lout all the time.”

Charlie burst out laughing and hugged me as we got up from our table to head to his car.  Charlie drove me home and then headed for work late.  I am about to head out for the afternoon to drum up some yard care work.  I hope to mow at least two lawns today for $20 dollars each.  I am headed over to the neighborhood a few blocks over from mine and see if I have better luck over there.  I’ve seen quite a few yards that need mowing when I drove through there a moment ago in preparation on a scouting trip in my Honda. 

The Entrepreneur…

“A little nigger boy named Jerry usually cuts my grass, but I haven’t seen him in what seems like ages,” my elderly neighbor who lives the street over from mine told me this afternoon. “My yard is looking pretty bad. It’s growing embarrassing.  I was hoping he would show up any day now.  He cuts my grass for $10 dollars. I just can’t do it myself at my age. The heat gets to me when I try.  I thought I was going to have to hire one of those expensive yard services.”

I was riding around the neighborhood on my raucous riding lawn mower looking for work. That thing is so very loud and obnoxious – the muffler heavily rusted and corroded. I know my neighbors hate me now.  My first purchase for my new lawn care business will be a new muffler.   I saw her yard which was overgrown and stopped to ask if she would like for me to cut it.  It was the only promising looking yard after riding down several streets.  Why do my neighbors have to be so fastidious about mowing their lawns? lol  I wanted to see train wrecks in need of yard care and mowing.  I will head over to the poorer neighborhood a few blocks over tomorrow.  They tend to have messier yards, but probably less money.  I will give it a good shot and a try, though.

“How much are you asking?” she asked warily as she eyed me carefully at her front door. She kept having to try and keep her cats inside which tried their best to escape through the open door. It was kind of comical. I smiled.

“$15 dollars,” I replied not wanting to push my luck with $20 dollars. I was afraid she would say no and I really needed the money. Jerry had me undercut by 5 bucks.  Her yard was pretty small as well.  I never was a good business man unlike my brother or father. Dad would’ve gotten $20 dollars for the job with his charm, wit, and people skills.  “I just want ten dollars to eat out with tonight at Rodger’s Barbecue and five dollars for the gas I used today looking for work.”

“I’ll pay you when you finish,” she said with a nice, kind smile and shut the front door to escape back into the cool air conditioned confines of her home corralling her cats.  I could feel the cold air pouring out of her house as I stood on her front porch from the opened door as she spoke to me. It has been a hot and sultry July day.

I stood there planning my next course of action and watched mesmerized as the four cats sat in the front bay window of her house watching me intently as if I were some strange creature of great interest.  I then got busy cutting her grass – my only customer for the day after trying only part of the neighborhood. Most people I tried cut their own grass or they weren’t at home.  It was almost a disappointing endeavor if it hadn’t have been for this one kind elderly lady.  I should have ridden around longer and further afield, but I was worried about running out of gas and I didn’t have any money on me at the time to buy more.  I was pushing my luck gas-wise as each house proved fruitless. I had left my gas tank at home as well. I would never get that riding lawn mower back to my house by pushing it if it ran out of gas.  It is extremely heavy and cumbersome.

“Your John’s son!” she exclaimed with bright eyes of acknowledgement when I knocked on the door when I was finished.

“Yes ma’am,” I replied. “He’s my dad.”

“He’s a good man and a good pharmacist.  I used to trade with him for years and years.  My prescriptions are cheaper now at Wal-Mart, though.  I thought I recognized you. You worked down there for years I remember. I would always remember seeing you sweeping the front of the store.”

“Sweeping was one of my primary jobs,” I replied with a warm smile.

I certainly wouldn’t tell dad that about Wal-Mart! lol He grumbles about Wal-Mart’s pharmacy all the time stealing his business.  It is a small world and a small town, though. Dad knows everyone in the Valley. He is always well liked by everybody. I wasn’t surprised that she knew him. 

“Here’s your fifteen dollars,” the lady told me pulling the bills out of her well worn wallet. “It looks good. You did a good job. It didn’t take you very long either.”

“Thank you,” I replied relieved to have gotten paid at last with money in hand. “I really appreciate your business.  And thank you for being so kind.  You are treating me to a good meal tonight and gas to continue my business.”

“Well, you earned it dear.  Check back with me in a week or two, and if Jerry hasn’t come then I will let you cut it again.  I will probably feel more comfortable with you doing it anyway instead of Jerry since you’re John’s son.  I might want you to trim my shrubbery for $10 extra dollars as well. It needs shaping up badly.”

“Thank you! I will check back in a week!” I told her excitedly and got on my mower and drove down the street to home. I felt I had done enough for the day and didn’t want to push my luck as far as my anxiety is concerned.

I had the biggest, goofiest grin on my face as I drove down the street over the raucous din of my mower.  I looked like I had just won the lottery.  Persistence had paid off.  I had my first customer and I was going to get that barbeque plate at Rodger’s after all. 

I don’t know when Charlie is arriving tonight.  He works for a government agency in Dadeville and I am not sure if the government worked today or not.  If they did, then I probably won’t see him till eight or so.  I am looking forward to my peace inducing Klonopin after a very busy day. I want to take my medications and just meld into this Lazy Boy while I watch Bones in a medication induced stupor. My medications can make me feel so out of it at times for which I love feeling abnormal in a good way.  I will probably need to get my barbeque plate to-go just in case Charlie does come earlier.  Rodger’s closes at nine.  I plan on being there well before that. 

***** UPDATE *****

“Your uncle Charlie’s here!” Charlie said exuberantly after knocking on my door as he pushed what few hairs he has left on his head across his scalp as is his nervous habit to help cover his baldness. “I’ve brought you gifts!  Walk out to your dad’s truck and help me carry these boxes of magazines in.”

Charlie is constantly going to yard sales and estate sales.  He had been off work today after all.  At an estate sale, he had bought a complete collection of Model Railroader magazines from the 70’s and 80’s – all the magazines I had read in my youth.  I was overjoyed and so pleasantly surprised.  Charlie is such a kind and thoughtful soul.  I love him dearly.

“How much did this cost?” I asked worried. “Dad will pay you back out of my account.”

“I got them all for only $100 dollars,” Charlie said proud of his wheeling and dealing. “I saw them and just knew you would love them and had to have them.  They had more, but this was all I bought.  The elderly man who had owned the house had trains in his attic. I love trains as well when I don’t have to wait for them at crossings.”

Charlie burst out laughing at what he last said. I chuckled as well although I love to wait at crossings to watch a train. I consider it the only “sport” I care to watch.

“I will be reading for weeks!” I replied excitedly. “I already recognize some of these covers.  I wore these magazines out reading them when I was a kid.  I lost them all over the years or they just fell apart and mom threw them away.”

There must have been about ten boxes of magazines and we finally got them all inside my computer room on the floor.  My heart rate got increased from the heavy boxes and I told Charlie I had to take a break at one moment.  He brought me a cold diet Coke to calm me and I weakly laughed.  The last thing I needed when anxiety was at bay. Charlie just doesn’t understand how my anxiety works sometimes.  He means well, though. 

“We’re going to go get something to eat now,” Charlie said hugging me and urging me to the door. “Then we will take your medications when we get home and you can drink your diet Cokes for the night.  I know you have to have those diet Cokes.  That’s your favorite ritual.  You mother said to be sure you got them every night.  She about drove me crazy about them.”

Charlie and I drove to Arby’s and got our usual and favored #19 special.  We are both hooked on that meal. The sandwiches tonight were just packed with turkey and I could only eat half ever mindful of my bulimia.  Charlie and I laughed and laughed as we talked and ate our meals.  Charlie has such a dry, but good sense of humor.  His laughter was so contagious.  I will just have to save my Roger’s plate for tomorrow. 

“Are you going to watch Bones tonight?” I asked hoping he would.  I told him the times and the channel.  He has gotten hooked on the show along with dad.

“I will if you will,” he said.

“Then you are going to have to watch because I don’t miss an episode!”

We took my medications and now I have to wait about thirty minutes to an hour for them to take effect.  Charlie has left to go take care of a few things such as getting Horsefly’s nightly KFC chicken finger plate, then he is coming back over to watch Bones with me at eight. We have three episodes tonight and it will be a joy!  Charlie said he is only going to watch one episode, though, much to my chagrin.  He needs to go home before it gets too late. He really worries about Horsefly. I would really like the companionship tonight.  I don’t want him to go home.

My Trial By Fire. That First Day is Under My Belt…

Well, I made it there and back again this morning. I survived one of my hardest mentally and physically taxing days in years.  I really haven’t worked in eight years as I’ve said many times and I am home again after four hours of my first day of work.  I worked from eight till noon this first day to break me in gently for which I was much relieved.  I don’t think I could’ve worked much longer than that for the first day.  I will probably be working longer hours as the weeks progress my supervisor said and that will be my true trial by fire. They only have two people doing my job and it is a 24 hour store.  A teenager comes in the afternoons and works the second shift.  Can I work an eight hour day of standing on my feet all day?  My mental illness has often made me pace the floor for hours and hours on end so I hope so.  If I can do that, then surely I can stand and walk for eight hours.  Of course, I will have water and rest breaks like I did this morning. 

Charlie gave me my two extra Klonopin last night and I carefully saved them to take today and they did the trick helping me to get through the morning. I knew I would need them dearly today. They kept me calm and serene despite my supreme nervousness I was experiencing on the drive to work. I had all these scenarios playing around in my head as I drove down through the Valley to work.  Could I do it?  Could I return to work after all these years absence? Would I have an extreme anxiety attack and terribly embarrass myself?  Would my social anxieties cause me to act strange thus becoming ostracized at work on my first day? I took one 2mg Klonopin this morning at seven to start the day and the other 2mg pill at work around ten when I felt a little shaky. I only had one interesting mental illness moment and it soon passed with the help of my medications and some rest.  I just felt a little confused, and a little nervous and schizophrenia induced psychosis and paranoia slipped in, but I sat down for a moment, cooled off for a bit inside, and calmed down.

“How was your 4th of July?” the elderly greeter asked me as I readied some more carts for him inside the cool store which felt wonderful after the heat of the parking lot.

“My father’s best friend brought me hamburgers, hot dogs, and cokes,” I replied excitedly and glad that he broke the ice. “It was pretty good. I stayed at home, though. I like my days quiet. Even holidays.”

“I spent mine with my son’s family,” he told me grinning vigorously. “We grilled steaks and the kids shot fireworks. We had a great time with family.”

“Sounds really nice,” I replied smiling kindly as I headed back out to the parking lot to grab another load of carts.

I was actually making small talk with strangers without feeling extremely weird or acting strange.  I astounded myself this morning in a way. I am sure the medications helped and had a great deal to play in this.  Thank God for the calming effects of Klonopin.  Work is so much stimulus social wise that it worried me I wouldn’t be able to handle this social sensory overload I would experience.  I did pretty well despite my social anxieties.  At least I didn’t have to deal with customers much.  The occasional customer would stop you and ask you a question about a sale or something, though.  I just played dumb. I had no idea if the Cokes were on sale or not. My job was outside the store.  I was just bound and determined to make returning to work viable this morning.  I was willing to battle any mental or physical foe that cropped up.  I’ve always said and dad does as well that I can be a determined son of bitch when I set my heart and mind to it.

“It’s going to be hot? Isn’t it?” my soon to be former fellow employee and coach said late this morning. “Drink lots and lots of cold water. You will get dehydrated quick. Always take your breaks even if the carts are getting backed up.”

“I like the heat, though,” I replied ever the positive person this morning. Nothing could steal my thunder today. “I keep the air conditioner in my house on 82 or 83. It doesn’t bother me as long as I don’t get sunburned.  I will get terribly burnt if I am not careful.”

“You’re going to be just fine, then,” he told me smiling. “Cover up and wear sunscreen.  Battling the heat is the hardest part of this job this time of the year.  And the cold in winter of course.”

I shuddered at the thought of winter, but I will just have to tackle that obstacle when it arrives. I’m a very cold natured person and not much one for the chill of winter. I will have to really bundle up next winter to gather my carts.  If I can work that long, but let’s be positive and say I will.  Always hope for the best.  I kept having to tell myself I was homeless for six months during the coldest part of winter and could easily handle the cold again if I set my heart upon it and grew acclimated.

My job is going to be very physically taxing it seems, but I handled it well.  My arms and shoulders are a little sore this afternoon.  You just have to have a lot of upper body strength to manhandle the carts before adding them to the mechanical pusher to bring them inside.  Luckily, I have a mental disability and not a physical disability so I was able to handle the work.  I am a big strapping guy.  I always have been.  You would look at me and never know I was mentally ill or had a disability.  I hide it well most days unless I just get batshiat crazy like I can at times. lol  Let’s hope that doesn’t happen anytime soon.  Let’s hope it doesn’t happen at all.

My coach helped for the first hour showing me what to do and then let me be to work the job for the remaining three hours to see how I would fare.  Our Wal-Mart is a very, very busy place and the carts would pile up pretty quick.  I had to hustle and bustle to keep up.  It is a very big parking lot larger than the size of a football field and it took a LOT of walking and a LOT of cart pushing.  You know me, though.  I walk everywhere these days often miles per day so that wasn’t a problem. I’ve had so much trouble driving lately and will probably start walking to work to save gas as well. It’s about a three mile walk if I have the time every morning and get up early.   

My supervisor stepped outside to see how I was faring at one point before I was to leave for the day.

“He’s doing really well,” I heard my coach tell her as I was bringing carts inside just around the corner. “He’s a really good guy. He is going to be just fine. He’s worked really hard this morning.”

“Any problems with his disability?” she carefully asked as I stood just mere feet away from them unaware of me in the store’s cart opening.

“I didn’t even know he had a disability,” my coach replied sounding astounded.

I was glad he didn’t ask what kind of disability I had.  I was worried about the stigma which is omnipresent with schizophrenia.  I had told my supervisor, though, that I had a mental illness this morning being honest.  She didn’t seem surprised or alarmed.  I was just beaming with pride at that little exchange they had, though.  It felt so good.  It has been a long time since someone paid me a compliment like that other than on my blog or in AA. I wanted to be accepted and valued.  This was working wonders for my self esteem.  It felt so good to be doing something valuable and important for someone else. And I was getting PAID for it!!!! 

Well, I am off to go hustle up some work by way of cutting grass in the neighborhood.  I am going to be one of those aggravating bastards I hate that ride around on their riding lawn mowers and solicit for money by mowing grass – a true capitalist and entrepreneur at heart these days. I always hate being solicited by them and I guess am such a hypocrite it seems. I just really want to get up some money to eat at Rodger’s tonight in celebration.   I haven’t had one of their barbeque plates in months and am craving one.  This making money is intoxicating after not having any for years.  George is going to be so surprised when I write him about it. George has been saying for years that I needed a job and something to do and to hell with my father about it.  I am going to tell dad, though, as soon as he gets home from his vacation Thursday.  I am not going to hide it I have decided.  All that can happen, is that he will be mad at me for a few weeks and will fret terribly about my Social Security Disability.  He won’t believe I have researched well online and covered all my bases about that. He will panic and think I will lose my prescription drug coverage.  He will just have to wait and see that I have been careful and prudent.  I am tired of being so dependent upon my parents and ready to strike out on my own.  One step at a time. And a job was that first step.    

I Abhor Censorship…

I usually don’t do email. I find it laborious and anxiety inducing, but I got my email set up and running this morning with Windows Live Mail – a free program for download and a good substitute for Outlook and Thunderbird.  One nice thing now about getting my blog comments via email is I can now pick and choose which comments I want to read.  If I see say JustLacey or Pipe Tobacco, then I will click on and read the comment.  They usually have something constructive or positive to say even if they don’t necessarily agree with my methods or my actions.  If I see an anonymous comment, then I won’t click on that tripe to read.  Staying far away.  If someone really wants to start a report with me then they can just sign up for a Google account.  There is a big difference between constructive criticism and just downright meanness and malice as these comments usually are.  Any threatening seeming comments will be passed over.  I have enough negativity in my life with my mental illness to be reading all that junk on my blog anyway.  I don’t even know why I leave anonymous comments up, but I abhor censorship for some reason.  My biggest gripe and misgiving about “The Homeless Guy’s” blog, my favorite blog, was his rabid censorship of his readers. He was maniacal about it and would delete comments in a heartbeat if you didn’t agree with him, and it pissed a bunch of his regular supportive readers off.  I think it went a long way to killing his blog as blogs are little communities for good or for bad. I would feel like a hypocrite if I took them down.  You have a voice on this blog, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I will read it all. You can just bitch to the other commenters if they want to read all that junk. I guess I am giving you free reign and license to talk about me behind my back.  Eww, that sounded like a paranoid schizophrenic moment didn’t it? lol

I spent the last of my money I had yesterday evening.  It is back to poorsville for the time being. I drove to Wal-Mart late last night and bought a cheap memory card for my Wii and a big cheap case of bottled water for work.  I was hoping the extra memory would make browsing faster as I browse and read blogs mostly through that gaming console on my big screen HDTV.  It is easier for me to read as I have terrible eyesight and I can easily control the font size with the Wii’s remote. I keep getting out of memory errors with my Wii when I load certain graphic heavy WebPages and blogs. The memory seemed to have done the trick.

I paid close attention to where the carts are kept in the parking lot in preparation for tomorrow while I was there last night.  There were more carts in the parking lot than there were in the store so I and my coach should be busy this morning.

It has been so very nice having money for a change. I haven’t really had money in many years except for the odd bit George would give me.  It will probably be a week or two before I get more.  I don’t know when my first paycheck will be.  I will have to ask this morning.  I could get out this afternoon and hustle and cut grass with my mower.  I have a full tank of gas in the mower and an extra can of gas as well.  That might sound like a plan. I’ve noticed quite a few neighbors lately with high grass on my street. I would love a barbeque plate at Rodger’s tonight as a treat for successfully working so that might be the impetus to get me off my ass and hustling this afternoon.

It is 4:30am and I am all ready for work so early.  I am chomping at the bit to go and overly excited.  I have taken my shower, put on lots of deodorant, washed my hair, and ironed my clothes. I have my khaki pants and long sleeve Auburn shirt all laid out on the bed ready to be put on.  I put some sunscreen in my backpack and also added my orange Auburn hat that matches my shirt.  I will be wearing a Wal-Mart smock, though, on top of my shirt that is highly reflective for visibility.  It is ready to go as well, but it smells musty and well used.  I should’ve washed it last night, but forgot and just didn’t get around to it.  I was in the bed at midnight so I think I got some pretty good sleep even if it was only four and a half hours.  Good for me anyway as I have weird sleeping habits these days. It is going to take a few weeks to get back on a normal sleeping schedule after eight years of just sleeping when I felt like it. 

I feel very good this morning and upbeat mentally.  Serene and calm.  No anxiety whatsoever thank God.  It has been a long time since I so looked forward to something – so very long.  It has also been such a long time since the stars have seemed to align to allow me to do this.  I feel like I have a purpose for living now and that is a big change after eight years of wandering through life.   I ate two of Charlie’s hamburgers for breakfast and they were delicious as well. I shouldn’t have eaten two as I now feel overly full and that may trigger my bulimia, but I felt I needed the extra energy for work today.  I am having to temper my excitement so as to not get an anxiety attack this morning, though.  I have to be so careful about things like that. The littlest thing can trigger me.  It will be too easy to get so excited and to get that rush of anxiety I experience. I will take my two Klonopin at seven and hope for the best.  Wish me luck!!!  Let’s pray I don’t have any “interesting” mental moments at work!!

So Scared of Employment, But Excited as Well…

Tomorrow is the big grand day.  I start work bright and early in the morning at eight.  I am so very, very nervous, but I am not feeling that terrible anxiety today as I normally would on such an occasion. I am actually feeling very, very good today mentally and it is so nice for a change.  Mental Illnesses are so funny as in weird.  You never know what each day may bring.  Maybe that is a good sign – a good omen. Maybe I will go to work tomorrow and stun and dazzle them with my ability to do a good job without agonizing and debilitating anxiety attacks and crazy mental shit. I don’t want to embarrass myself on the first day of work with my mental illnesses. My biggest fear is having a big enough anxiety attack where I have to leave work and go sit in the quiet of my air conditioned car for an hour until it passes. How could I ever explain that to my supervisor?

The little details are going to be the hardest for me.  Not drinking at night.  Working in the mornings and dad coming at night is going to extremely curtail my drinking for those of you worried about it. It will leave me with little opportunity to imbibe in old John Barleycorn as my schedule will not allow it. Eating a good and nourishing breakfast every morning so I have the energy to work.  Getting into the regular schedule of working.  Being steady and reliable.  Taking a shower every morning despite being in a hurry and keeping nice clothes at the ready. Setting my alarm clock so as not to be late.  Sleeping at night so I am well rested for work instead of staying up listening to my favorite radio show.  Remembering to bring lots of bottled water as the heat will be oppressive. It is going to take planning and that is not my forte. These are all things they would be teaching me in vocational rehabilitation over several months and I am bypassing that. I am jumping directly into the fray.  These are things I am going to have to relearn after not working for so long.  I am going to have to relearn a work ethic as well. Eight years is a long time to have a completely open schedule with which what to do with your day is up in the air.  I am tired of that, though.  I’ve wandered through life enough these days. I want schedules and routines – something for which to get out of the bed in the morning. I’ve seen enough of the Internet, blogs and TV to last a lifetime over the past eight years.   

They showed me yesterday what I will be doing.  It was as I had expected. I won’t have to deal with customers  which will be a boon for my social anxieties.  I will be gathering the carts with this little battery powered contraption that pushes them. It comes replete with this bright little yellow light that blinks to warn motorists.  I will bring the carts inside through a large opening in the building and ready them for the elderly greeter to pass out to incoming customers.  The guy that currently has my job said he is going to work at McDonald’s in a few days for better pay.  We talked awhile.  He said the job can be physically taxing at times getting all the carts together for the pusher.  He said the supervisor is cool though.  He also exclaimed how hot is was in the summer out in the parking lot, but you know me and I love the heat.  “You will fry,” he said with me being so white. “Bring plenty of sunscreen for your face and neck, and wear long sleeves, pants, and a hat.”  He is going to show me the ropes tomorrow so the morning should prove easy being coached along.  I hope the four hours fly by so I can get home to write about it for which I will be very excited to tell you all about it.

I am scared – very scared.  I am going to have to hide this from my father unfortunately. He just wouldn’t understand. Luckily, I work in the mornings and I only see dad at night around ten for thirty minutes.  I hate the subterfuge and should just be honest about it, but then again, I have to be able to make choices about my own life for a change without having to ask for permission.  I so want to work and be partly self supporting. I am tired of sitting around this house all day with nothing to do.   I think it will be so crucial to my self esteem that has been so lacking for years. I really have felt like the dregs of society lately not being able to support myself and earn money.  It is demeaning my parents having to do everything for me. No 38 year old man should be in the position I am in with regards to dependency on their aging parents.

There is also so many things I want to buy as well after not having money for years. I only get nice things at Christmas.  I want to upgrade my computer.  A new DSLR camera would be nice as that is my favored hobby these days.  I would love an iPod Touch or an iPhone.  Just being able to buy extra food when I need it would be a windfall – to drive down to Sarah Jay’s eatery and eat breakfast would be a joy most mornings. There have been some weeks lately that I have run out of food and it is so demeaning to ask for more.  It will get mom and dad in such an extreme stir.  They make me feel like crap for asking and not being frugal with my food. I just get hungry sometimes.  I am a big guy and $85 dollars a week in groceries it proving not enough.    

I am going to give it my very best try tomorrow and see how I do.  I have two Klonopin to take before work for the anxiety.  This is my trial by fire after not working for eight years.  My supervisor assured me I would be able to handle the job since I walk miles every day as I told her.  She was being really supportive.  I think she could sense my apprehension and fear.  I was really nervous yesterday and about couldn’t sign all the paperwork from jittery fingers and hands. I also feel like I am doing something very terrible and wrong.  I guess I am as far as my father is concerned.  He will eventually find out for sure.  It will be World War Three no doubt.  I am a grown man, though, and should be able to make some decisions for myself and my life. Surely, you all can’t begrudge me for wanting to go back to work? Can you?  Can you at least try and see my point of view? 

A Working Man…

I applied for several positions at Wal-Mart a few weeks ago on a whim online.  I really didn’t have much hopes after filling out the very lengthy exam and questionnaire.  They asked a lot of personal questions about work history.  I haven’t worked in eight years except for a month at the Piggly Wiggly a few years ago as a grocery clerk. A job for which my father made me quit.  It drove him crazy that I was making my own money.  I just got the call they want to hire me thirty minutes ago.  I was just floored, elated, shocked, and so excited!   I will be the cart handler at what I assume is minimum wage for four hours every morning.  My job will be to gather the carts in the parking lot with a mechanical battery powered pusher and bring them inside and keep them stocked and ready for customers.

“Will y’all work with me and my disability?” I asked the nice lady on the phone afraid to reveal I had schizophrenia.

“Yes sir,” she said and she didn’t even ask me what disability I had. “The job just involves a lot of walking and you need to be able to walk.”

This was looking more promising by the moment.

“I can’t make over $600 dollars a month or it will effect my disability check,” I then told her. “That’s one of my biggest worries about taking the job.”

“We will work with you on that, sir,” she replied. “We will manage your hours.  We just need someone who will work hard and will be reliable and steady.”

I don’t know if I will be able to do it, but I am going to give it a good man’s try.  The lady acted like it was a job for which they are having problems filling the position.  She sounded just as excited as I was when I said I would take it.  It must be kind of a crappy job.  But I’ve wanted to work for months now.  I am a hard worker when I set my mind to it.  The first thing I am going to do with my first paycheck is to buy that camera part to get my camera working.  I have missed it more than anything in the world.  It has been over a week and dad has said nothing about it since he said he ordered it.   I just hope I can manage my anxiety.  If push comes to shove then I will get a new doctor who will prescribe me stronger medications that will allow me to continue to work.  Well, here goes my trial by fire and either a great accomplishment or my worst blunder in years.  Sometimes, you just gotta take a chance and try, though.  The worst thing that can happen is that I have to quit because of the anxiety.   Let’s hope not and pray for the best.   

My Thoughts for the Day…

George is Jumping on the Work Bandwagon…

“What is your biggest obstacle to returning to work?” George asked me last night as we sat in my den smoking cigars.

“Anxiety/Panic attacks,” I replied. “Nothing would scare me worse than getting caught at work and having one.  They are a horrible, extremely physical experience.”

George looked deep in thought for answers.  George, as do I, wants me to be independent.  He thinks my father is a bad influence upon me.  He thinks dad is a control freak and it is none of his business what a grown man does with his life whatever it may be. 

“I wish we could get you something to take when you get like that,” George finally said.  “We could dope you up and put you to work!”

He laughed.

I haven’t had a anxiety attack in two months cross my fingers.  I am hitting the streets today to look for more jobs – putting out my reach as far as possible.  I want some of my dignity and pride back.  I also want a new computer and diet Cokes and Tylenol and aspirin when I need them.  And no more bullshit when I run out of groceries.  I just want to drive to the store and buy me some sandwiches with MY money. 

A Case of Temptation…

I went to bed around 8pm and slept until 2am.  Strange hours.  I still don’t know what makes me tick sleep wise.  I paced the floor for several hours until sitting down to update my template and write a blog post.  I realized this morning that I no longer read one single blog other than mine.  All my favorite authors quit writing or wrote so infrequently it was frustrating.  Has blogging become passé?  Am I just some old relic from another time when I should be on Facebook writing milquetoast material at best because all my former classmates are reading?  I could never write about my illness (unless it was cancer or a cold) on Facebook or my struggle with addiction. 

George and I only managed to drink one case of beer – him much more than I.  That other case is calling my name this morning.  I was always a morning drinker.  I would start drinking as soon as I got up.  When I worked at Auburn University, I would have a beer in my bedroom just to get going for the day and to stop the shakes.  But I have jobs to apply for today.  Bigger goals.  The drinking will just have to wait.    

My Thoughts for the Blogging Day…

Lucky is a he I found out today.  I thought it was a she.  Lucky walked away from me after eating tuna to reveal two of the biggest gonads I have ever seen on a cat.  Those have got to go.  Snip! Snip!  Lucky also got in a big fight last night.  It awoke me and Maggie and I went and turned on all the outside lights. I was still very groggy from all the beer I drank.   I could see Lucky by Joyce’s house.  Hair bristling.  And screaming like a banshee.  He’s got a nasty scar on his face to show for it.  Getting fixed will stop all that I hope.  If I can only get him to trust me and off to the Vet he will go.

George left in time to get his mother to church.  We both had beer for breakfast in characteristic alcoholic fashion.   George was happy, though, and so was I.  I needed a release last night.  I needed a friend to talk to.  I badly needed the anxiety I constantly experience to fade away.  The beer did that for me.  Better than any clonazepam could ever do that dad so carefully doles out like candy to a kid.

A Job Offer…

I got a call yesterday with a job offer.  You may remember I applied for a bunch of jobs a few weeks ago online in a fit of aggravation at my parents.  It is for a cook at a fast food place and it is for third shift.  I really don’t want to work third shift and declined.  “We’ll call you back if something in the day opens,” the lady said. “You passed the online test with flying colors!  Your reference Dr. so and so said you were highly recommended.”    I really want the baggage cart guy position at Wal-Mart.  I applied this morning.  I just want to hang out and gather the carts all day at minimum wage.  The only downside to working at Wal-Mart would be seeing my ex-wife all the time.  She practically lived there when we were married.  I am sure China’s GDP loved it!

My Thoughts for the Day…

Food Situation Rectified and Dad’s Obsession…

I went to bed last night at eight.  I was just exhausted from the previous week. George woke me up at ten with a knock on the door.  He had a vegetable and cornbread plate from his mother on his way to work in Lagrange.  On it was a cauliflower, broccoli and carrot medley with a lemon butter sauce, creamed potatoes, and white creamed corn.  There was also three pieces of Mrs. Florene’s scrumptious cornbread.

“I know you,” George said. “You are thinking this is charity.  Just enjoy the meal and call momma in the morning and tell her how good it was.  You would thrill her soul and she loves you to death.”

I promised George I would call Mrs. Florene and let her know how much I appreciated this meal.  I sat sleepily in the bed eating the meal as I listened to the radio and Maggie begged for cornbread.  

I went back to bed only to be awakened at midnight.  It was dad with my medications and some groceries.  He had brought two large loaves of bread, sliced cheddar and pepperjack cheese, and plenty of deli sliced turkey.  I was so thankful and relieved. 

“I now know what being addicted to something is like,” dad said, piquing my interest as we sat in my den watching The Weather Channel .  “I have been staying up till two or three every night on the Internet until I am exhausted.  I slept till eleven today and that is unheard of for me.  I haven’t done that in years.  I am obsessed.”

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen!” I thought to myself as dad left saying he was going home to get on Wikipedia.

We had gotten on a discussion of the Shroud of Turin and dad couldn’t wait to get home to read about it.  He was surprised what I knew about it with me being kind of irreligious these days.   I am fascinated with the theory that Jesus lived until his seventies, married Mary Magdalene and had four children by her. 

On Returning to Work…

Sometimes, I get a wild hair up my butt and want to go back to work.  Part of yesterday was spent filling out online applications for employment at local businesses.  The impetus for this was that I read on Social Security’s website that I could keep my Medicare health insurance coverage for up to eight years with no premium after I start back work with the “Ticket to Work” program.  I could also keep my disability benefits for up to nine months as I worked during a trial work period.  Through “expedited reinstatement” I could get back my benefits any time I was deemed ineligible to work due to medical reasons for three years after the trial work period.

I know it is just a passing thought, but I so long to be independent.  I want to be able to buy me a diet Coke when I want to, and I want to be able to go to the grocery store and just buy me some food when situations arise such as what happened these past few days.  It can be very demoralizing for a 37 year old man to be completely dependent upon his parents for everything.

Global Cooling in Andrew’s Casa…

A few months ago, I wrote about an experiment were I was trying to lower my thermostat to save on heating costs.  Well, in my all or nothing fashion, I lowered the thermostat to 62 degrees and was miserable for about a week – having to wear multiple layers of clothes to stay warm.  I am very, very cold natured.  For the longest time, my thermostat has been set on 82 degrees.  I have gradually lowered the temperature every few days until I am now on 75 degrees and I am actually comfortable.  I have grown acclimated to this new temperature.  Someone wrote on the blog to try this and they were right.  I am hoping dad will congratulate me any day now about my new lowered utility bills.  Mind you, he has never complained about my utilities, but I want to do my part to conserve my disability allotment.  It is just one small way that I can feel “in control” of my situation and life.

Computer Project for the Day…

I dread this, but it needs to be done.  I need to uninstall the ATI Theater 550 TV tuner from my Dell and put it in my newly built makeshift computer.  I dread even getting out the screwdriver and flashlight, but it’s bugging me that I can’t have The Weather Channel playing all day in the corner of my big screen LCD monitor.   I’ve got both computers working perfectly, and I am so afraid I am going to screw things up.   That computer repairer’s nemesis, static electricity, is always in the corner of my mind.  

Sleeping Beauty

I am getting in the habit of sleeping for longer than normal periods.  I slept until 1:00 PM today.  I was asleep at midnight.  Very uncharacteristic of me.  I hope this is not a new trend. 

The whole afternoon will be spent with me gearing up for work.  Dad expects more out of me than his normal workforce.  I have to be johnny-on-the-spot. Nice clothes.  Neatly combed hair.  Teeth brushed.   Everything manicured to a T.   For the deliveries, I am the "spokesman" for the store and the only thing certain patrons see.  I want to portray a good visual for these people's only tangible link to my father's business.   Let me get in the shower and get busy.  

Day One -- A Pill Counter...

Today was the first day of the little part time job my father gave me.  I have my own little office with a newer Dell computer and Internet access.  I spent a long time today in the pharmacy's basement organizing all our hospital beds to see which ones worked and which ones needed parts. 

This afternoon I got caught by a pill counter doing my deliveries.  I had to stand at this little old lady's front door while she counted the hundreds of pills I delivered making sure she wasn't shorted.  I couldn't help but smile.  Thankfully, all her pills were in the correct amounts and in the correct bottles.  I think the little old lady was actually disappointed that nothing was amiss.  She looked ornery and like she just needed a reason to bitch and moan. I hope when I grow older I do it with grace and not become a mean and crotchety old soul.

I think I am going to like this job.  There is certainly little pressure upon me.  The deliveries usually only take about two hours a night.  One caveat:  I can smoke in my father's van while doing deliveries.  He said he didn't mind as long as I did it with the window rolled down.  I will be there bright and early tomorrow afternoon ready to make some more money for my Model Railroad empire.    

Good News!

McDonald's lobby is closed after 10 PM when I will be working.  Only the drive-thru will be open and that assuaged a lot of my fears.  I am assuming I am going to be a line cook.  I'll be slingin' some burgers tonight, baby!  I feel much better about that rather than having to run a register and dealing with the public. 

Orientation went well.  We went over what will be expected of me and things such as health insurance plans. My first paycheck will be on Feb. 25.  That is a long time away. 

I pray Dad gets here on time with my medications.  Should be around 9:30 and I have to be at work at 10:45.  It takes about thirty minutes to drive there.

The Time is Here...

Well, today is the big day.  I didn't stay up much longer after midnight last night despite my best efforts.  I just got too sleepy and crashed in the bed.  My blog advertising check came in the mail this morning.  I drove down to get it cashed, but Wal-Mart oddly wouldn't cash it.  I will have to brave my ex-wife and my bank it seems to get the money.  That money is going to be used for gas to work. 

I have to be at work at 3:30 today for orientation.  What that entails I do not know.  I do know I will be getting my work uniform.  I am so excited and maybe this is a good sign.  I am worried I will panic though without sleep.  We will just tackle that when it arrives.  

Scheming...

I realized today that I don't even have to tell my parents I am working.  It is none of their business.  I am a grown man.  Dad will arrive every night around 9:30 with my medications.  I will have already showered.  I will leave the house at 10:30 to be at work at 11 PM.  I will be home at 8:30 AM in the morning in time to get my injection for my schizophrenia every two weeks at 9 AM.  There is no reason for them to know.

But you know what?  I feel wrong for doing that.  I still feel as if I am a teenager all over again.  It is hard for me to believe I am 35 years old.  The boundaries between my family and I have become inexorably muddled over these past few years of my dependence. 

When I took a job working at the grocery store at the shopping center where the gang hangs out, my father berated me so badly.

"I can't believe you did that without consulting me," I remember him telling me over the phone angrily. "You need to quit."

I quit the job due to the pressure my family was putting on me.  It was actually the perfect job to suit my disability.  I didn't go into the trial work period which is so precious.   There was no stress involved.  All I did was wrap vegetables and fruits all morning in plastic wrap to be sold.  I should have never quit that job.

But, think of this... Isn't there something terribly wrong with just having to hide going to work?  My best instincts tell me that I am caught in a terribly unhealthy relationship.  I have worried and fretted over this so that I feel frazzled.  

A Helping Hand...

I sat in the parking lot of Wal-Mart behind the wheel of my mother's car.  It had been about an hour and I had smoked over three cigarillos.  People came and went from the store, and I had a good time people watching.  Soon, mom came ambling out.  She looked worried and tussled. 

"Feel my hand," she said as she got in the car.

"Your hands are just a shaking," I told her as I cranked up the car.

"I am having one of my panic attacks," she told me. "I saw so many people I knew in Wal-Mart, and I have so much to do.  I just wanted to come and go quietly."

"Never fails," I told her as I drove out of the parking lot and got on highway 29. "Never fails to get caught by a lot of people when you feel ill."

It was a short drive to my father's pharmacy.  Dad was off for the afternoon and mom needed some copies of a living will she was carrying.  Shaking hands and all, she went in the store only to return a few minutes later.

"What makes us do this?" she asked me as I drove to my grandmother's house.  "Why can't we just be normal?"

My heart went out to my mother as I replied, "It is going to be okay.  You've done a lot today and need to lie down."

"I sleep all the time, though," my mother told me.  "I stay in the bed.  I can't even run errands without getting upset."

I knew how my mother felt as I drove us towards home.  I had agreed to drive her because she was having a bad day with her anxieties and panic attacks.  I thought of my own returning to work.  Could I?  Could I be so brash to think I can work with my "busy" mind and my anxieties?  I am going to try.  I am going to be at work 11 PM my time Monday night and hopefully third shift will be far kinder than first or second -- the busiest times of the day for fast food.

There comes a time when you have to face your biggest fears, and try to overcome your most limiting liabilities.  You're only given so many chances in life until they no longer come.  I hope to make the most of this chance to work -- a chance to reinvent the mentally ill man that was always so afraid of change -- so afraid of others and afraid of being independent.  As work draws closer, I grow more resolute that I am doing the right thing -- the most important and life changing thing I've done in years.