Today is the Big Day…

Tonight, I start a new journey – a nightshift job with much, much better pay and actual benefits for a change.  I will be all alone all night in my department, though, and that makes me nervous.  I will be master of my domain it seems.  What if there is a question I can’t answer about electronics?  What if I get a cantankerous customer thus sending my anxieties reeling? What if the register goes haywire?  lol  I will just hope for the best and do my best.  I think my worst anxiety attacks are in my past these days, even though I want to knock on wood with saying that.  I seem to never know what lurks around the corner for me anxiety-wise. 

My greatest hopes last night were to stay up all night and sleep during the day today.  That didn’t work so well.  9:30pm rolled around, two hours after my normal bedtime, and I was so sleepy I could barely stay awake and I hadn’t taken an Ambien. I was absolutely miserable.  I went on to bed after eating some lasagna and slept until my normal wakeup time of 3:30am.  A few people had suggested I sleep from 10am to 6pm like a normal night, except in the day, and I will give that a try today taking my Ambien around 9am and a my three 1mg Klonopin for the day as well – hoping that will put me to sleep for many hours.

Well, what do you all think?  Can I do this? Can I make it all alone every night? I’ve changed so much these past few months so I think this change is only a natural progression.  I live by the mantra of taking chances and risks these days.  I wouldn’t have gotten this far so soon without doing that.  I keep living every day like it’s my very last day, and it is proving beneficial and fortuitous.  That’s one of the main reasons I went so public with the blog and all my writings – feeling that if I died tomorrow then all the social conventions and misgivings I was trying to conform to wouldn’t have mattered in the long run of life.  I am really not doing anything wrong other than writing about my life freely, and I know that makes some people uncomfortable, but they can choose not to read.  A few people have emailed me worried about what my family will think if they Google my name and read what I am writing about them.  To hell with my family.  Most of them don’t like me or have ever taken much time to get to really know the real me anyway.  Most of you know me better than my own father does.  They can Google me and do their worst.  All they can do is put peer pressure on me to conform and we all know that these days, I am not up to conforming much as far as my family is concerned.  I have about broken all the “rules” that can be broken.

I would be fool to not be careful what I write about work, though.  I don’t want to lose my job and thus my independence.  That’s why you usually see me write about only the positive aspects of my employment.   We had a few idiot customers come into electronics the past few days and I wanted to write about them so badly! lol  They were true blog fodder and journal writing gems. 

Lawns to Mow…

Today also starts another cycle of my regular customer’s lawns to mow for the week.  I now have ten regular customers including Charlie’s yard next door. My lawn care business is now bringing in $500 dollars per month at $25 dollars per lawn.  I always try to call before coming over to make sure they are home and I get paid. I keep a calendar with my contacts on my Crackberry.   I will try to get a few lawns mowed after I wake up at six this evening after breakfast.  It is going to be hard to juggle nightshift and my lawn care business, though.  At least, I will have my days free and weekends as well.  Just working in sleep will be the problem. I hope to settle into a normal sleeping schedule easily.  I don’t think people would take too kindly to me calling at 8am about mowing their lawns so I am thinking afternoons will be the best bet now.  

Getting George a Job…

Sharyna suggested last night in an email that I get George my old job gathering carts.  I thought that was an excellent idea and don’t know why I haven’t thought of that myself.   My supervisor thinks I walk on water and could do no wrong, and will vouch for anyone I recommend.  George also worked at Wal-Mart’s distribution center in LaGrange for several years so I hope that helps.  I take some solace in that George’s crimes were a crime of stupidity – a momentary lapse in judgment.  He didn’t commit Grand Larson or first degree Murder.  George has always been a hard worker with a strong work ethic and consistently shows up for work even during his drinking days. Mrs. Florene will be so excited about this suggestion and I hope my supervisor is amenable to it as well.   I will talk to my old supervisor Monday and try to set this up hoping George will get parole.  It wouldn’t hurt for the parole board to know George has a 40 hour per week job lined up for when he gets out.

After doing some reading on the web with other’s experiences with DUIs in Alabama and prison sentences, it is looking more and more likely that George will have to wear an ankle alcohol monitoring device for many months.  I know George, and the first thing he will want when he gets home is a drink and a cigar. He has written me several times about his first day of “being out” and of all his dreams.  I just hope he can settle into a more normal routine – back to things the way they were with his mother and working fulltime again.  I have the highest aspirations and hopes for my best friend.  He is going to need to work as each time he sees his parole officer he will have to pay a hefty fee.  I know this from my own experiences with getting a DUI.  Is George an alcoholic? Who knows?  He could always more easily handle his drinking than I could.  I am just going to give him the best support a best friend can give and leave it at that.

The very big question is will George drive thus violating his parole?  George hasn’t had a driver’s license for many years and drove anyway.   I had thought this, but wasn’t sure until I asked Mrs. Florene about it on the phone the other night.  We will find out when and if he gets home.  I am willing to try and carry him around some.  Mrs. Florene is at the age that she is about at the end of her driving days – not being able to see to drive at night.  I am hoping George’s cousin Monte will fill in the gaps, although George will have to pay him to drive him around. 

More FaceBook and Me…

I had an enjoyable experience on FaceBook last night.  The medium is slowly growing on me – more conducive to “conversations” – the commenting system being so much easier to use.  You get almost instant feedback and gratification for your postings with comments and “likes” coming freely.  We discussed sports as related to funding education and other assorted topics.   I’ve also set it up to where my blog postings are automatically posted to FaceBook and I hope this will bring new readers to the blog.  I have Twitter set up with FaceBook as well, but it has tempered my twittering somewhat – making me more thoughtful and careful of what I will write not to overwhelm my “wall” with blurbs.  If you are interested in befriending me then just sign up for an account which takes just a few minutes and click on my FaceBook badge on the blog which will direct you to my profile.   

Regarding the Sunset Brews and my Aggressive Unusual Behavior…

This seems to be this biggest source of contention with my readers on the blog these days – my drinking of my nightly sunset brews.  I have received more well intentioned advice and concern on this subject than more than anything in years.  I am trying to emulate the homeless Albert Vanderburg's nightly routine on Waikiki beach of this same ritual.  If you’ve known me for long, then you know I love rituals and routines. I also tend to romanticize the homeless lifestyle, and this routine seems so masculine, worldly, and helplessly homelessly romantic to me.  George will love reading about it in the blog posts I am mailing him each day.  He will live vicariously through my words and I have him in mind many nights when I drink them.  We both lived a pseudo homeless existence for the time we hung out down at the shopping center years ago every day. 

I try to tell myself that at the height of my drinking career, I was drinking 24 beers a day and that my drinking now is entirely mild compared to then.  I am not concerned at all.  I would basically crack open a beer back then when I awoke and would go to bed with an open beer on my night stand.  Maybe I am in denial, but two beers a night is a far cry from my olden days.  I was a miserable human being then.  Terribly disturbed mentally and emotionally.  The only time I have been happy and a heavier drinker was when I was hanging out with George and the gang down at the Piggly Wiggly everyday.  George could be a bad influence on me in those regards and most mornings would find us drinking ice beer as we talked, smoked cigars, and would shoot the shit as George like to say for hours.  I was a happy social drinker then.  Not the solitary “alcoholic” who sat at home drinking 24 beers a day in pain.  Or that sad individual who was grasping in pain at absolution by drinking mouthwash when my father cut the money off and gained power of attorney over me. I realize now most of my drinking resulted from a experience of a  supreme feeling of hurt, guilt, and despair.  Now? I like to have a drink to feel good and enjoy myself.  Not subdue all that distress I was experiencing.

Where will this lead me?  Only time will tell.  Some could say I am playing with fire.  I feel I am just being a pretty average Joe drinking a few beers after a hard day’s work.

One thing I am learning lately, though, is to take chances and be aggressive with my life and behavior. This also means living with gusto and doing things that make me feel good. For years, I have sat quietly at home, cocooned in safety, bored to tears, and acquiescing to my parent’s biddings of how I should live my life.   Now?  I am taking risks by returning to work.  By flirting with women at work when my social anxieties scream in retaliation.  By starting my own business when the odds of success are stacked against me due to my disability and my anxiety issues.  I feel as if I have awoken from some deep strange nightmare like some modern day Rip Van Winkle.  Like I wrote the other day, I better get busy living instead of dying.  And I was slowly dying emotionally and mentally in my previous life just a short few weeks ago and I was sober as a judge.

My thoughts often turn back to Kevin “The Homeless Guy” Barbieux and his life’s experiences he wrote about on his blog for years.  He’s brilliantly smart, but he doesn’t take chances or risks.  He won’t work a regular job saying it depresses him.  I am finding work the exact opposite.  It is invigorating.  This “depression” has kept him homeless for most of his adult life – safely sleeping in rescue missions and using the Internet all day.  He will claim it is a hard life being homeless always playing the victim, but it’s not that bad I learned from my own experiences.  It was cold, but you have zero responsibility and your pretty much get to do what you want when you want to.   How bad can spending all day on the Internet be and not having to work?

We were a lot alike until I decided I no longer wanted be that sick dependent victim.  I had to assert myself and take chances.  I had to think out of the box and it has been extremely uncomfortable for me to do in a way.  I am pushing boundaries and testing limits.  I was miserable, but I had everything to make life existential as far as the basics were concerned.  A home.  A car.  Nutritious food. Dubious if adequate mental healthcare.  All my financial affairs were handled by my father.  My bills were paid for me.  What was lacking is that I wasn’t living.  I was just existing.  I think Mr. Barbieux has fallen into this trap for most of his life.  He’s just existing like he has done for most of his adult existence.  I don’t want to seem overly harsh in my criticism of him, but I’ve often used him as my Atlas Marker for how not to live life.  I’ve learned a lot from following him on the Internet over the years. You can play the sick victim and be the valiant sociopolitical and religious Internet critic, but it isn’t going to pay the bills and it certainly isn’t going to do much for your self esteem or emotional wellbeing when all is said and done.  You just end up some lonely guy sitting in a McDonald’s with a laptop railing against society, government, and Christianity.

Well, it is 2am and I am writing yet another long blog post having driven over to get my six diet Cokes and they invigorated me.  I often like to write the most early in the morning as I smoke and drink my nightly Cokes mom puts out for me.  I better get on the couch, get some sleep, and get ready for work in the morning.  I am excited about starting a new week.  I keep telling myself that if I can make it through working for 30 days then I will  have made a healthy habit out of it.  Please wish me luck!  I need your help and encouragement.  I know I’ve written a positive blog this past week, but it’s been a hard row to hoe for me.  I am really pushing the envelope as far as my abilities are concerned.  My life has taken on a complete upheaval in just two weeks time.  And it feels good despite all the discomfort and pain caused by changing my life so drastically so suddenly. Good night.     

Adventures in Blog Writing…

My recent forays into writing honestly about my life have really shown me what my readership can be like at times and what blogging can be like when things go terribly, horribly wrong when you are honest.  Most people don’t reveal much on their blogs except the feel good stuff – the kind of stuff you only reveal in polite company. I guess I should as well.  I’ve always had suspicions that 95% of my readership are just gawking at my unorthodox life that I blather on about like an idiot – laughing at me and marveling that a 38 year old man can live this way. Navel gazing.  Only one person who reads the blog calls me regularly and attempts to reach out to me beyond the blog and it is Kirs.  She has been very supportive about the anxiety attacks giving me tons of suggestions on how to control it. She suffers deeply as well. 

Are all these people really my friends?  I am seriously growing to doubt it.  I am just entertainment.  It is not very flattering to be honest that I have all these malignant anonymous people reading. I would quit writing the blog if I didn’t enjoy writing so much and having an audience to read it. I could just lie and write a completely feel good,boring alcohol free blog.  Nobody would ever know the difference – knowing only what I reveal in my posts.  I am a very creative writer and could paint a story of mental health bliss, AA meetings, and sobriety. I already hide 95% of my experiences with schizophrenia, psychosis, and extreme anxiety so as not to worry my readers so it wouldn’t be very hard to do. I find it depressing to write about. I find it frankly boring as well as I read countless other mental health blogs that blather endlessly about these topics.  It grows tiresome. It seems like attention seeking.

I also haven’t been drinking so much as for it to effect my writing and my life.  I have been pleasantly surprised as to my moderation.  Years ago, I would drink until I was blitzed.  I really just want to quell the anxiety and not really get drunk per se.  I’ve gotten where I don’t like the feeling of being out of control that being seriously drunk imparts. I’ve grown out of that phase of my life.

I choose to write honestly about my life experiences because it is cathartic for me.  I’ve said it before, but my blog is therapy. It would be much, much easier for me to just lie and paint a perfect picture.  The anonymous commenters would stay away and my regular supportive commenters would be happy.  The anonymous commenters only come out when things are going wrong, controversial, or negative – taking delight in my downfall they think.  

Now, I’ve got extremely crazy overbearing people trying to call my father and interrupt his hard earned vacation and to worry him.  He only gets to see his grandchildren maybe twice a year, but these people don’t give a shit.  They just want to control me and get me in trouble – taking joy out of “turning me in”.  People calling themselves bitches and saying they care anyway.  They are calling the pharmacy so they allege (and there is no way in hell one of my father’s employees would give out his cellphone number).  They are saying they are going to find my brother in Virginia.  That is stalking and against the law! Who’s the villain here?  I don’t care.  Go ahead and call.  What can happen except to ruin my father’s vacation and make him worry about me?  There is little he can do being in Virginia.  You are not going to coerce me as you are attempting to do Marsha.

I’ve also got all kinds of anonymous yahoos boisterously blathering on about my faults and foibles.  Now I know how Kevin “The Homeless Guy” Barbieux must have felt when he wrote about such controversial topics honestly as homelessness and political dissidence on his blog. It made him quit writing about his life and writing his blog, and he had such an interesting story to tell we could all learn from. He was always so stirred up and crazed by the comments he would get.  It really stirs the crazies up. Well, I have a much thicker skin than he does though. I am not going to quit writing, but this post will probably kill my readership, but I don’t care.  I started out with two readers, Pipe Tobacco and Annabel, and will start again. The blog is definitely taking a different direction these days that I find so interesting to write about with me getting out of the house for a change.  I will garner a new readership that enjoys reading these kinds of posts. 

People try to control you and cajole you into thinking their way and towing the line I have learned in life.  Guess what people?  I am 38 years old.  It is America and a free country.  I have the choice to do with my body what I will and it is nobody else’s business unless I allow them entry into my life.  I am not breaking any laws.  It is just amazing to me the parallels with what I am experiencing on the blog to my father’s own way of doing things.  It is uncanny the similarities.   Coercion.  Malice.  Threats.  Derisions.  Demeaning comments.  Such controlling people.  It runs the gamut.  Is America really a free country or are we all controlled by peer pressure and social mores?

It is obvious I didn’t go camping last night as I am writing this at home at 5am.  I felt mentally shaky last night and decided just to stay home and rest, drinking my sunset brews, and I sat on my porch watching the neighborhood fireworks.  The neighbors really put on a show last night and it was fun to see.  They always go all out and must spend a fortune on all those fireworks. I also felt better for watching my British comedies.  Hyacinth was in fine form last night and so was Mr. Humphries.

Later in the evening, I walked down to the convenience store to pick up a bottle of wine and some cigars.  I then walked back up to the park to sit in a swing and listen to Coast to Coast AM.  Tonight’s show was about psychic vampires instead of traditional blood sucking vampires.  It was okay.  I’ve heard better.  It was hosted by Ian Punnett.  My favorite Coast host.  He made it worthwhile.

Yesterday morning, I drove down to Wal-Mart for the preliminaries of being hired.  I had to sign all the tax withholding paperwork and they had to make copies of my social security card and driver’s license.  I start work Monday and I am so excited and scared at the same time.  Can I do this?  Have I bitten off more than I can chew mentally?  The lady assured me it was a job I could handle even with a disability.  Next? I have to drive down to Opelika to the Social Security office to report I have returned to work and to report my pay which falls into the acceptable limits.  The will give me a receipt as proof that I did this.  It is very, very important that I do this from reading Social Security’s website.  The lady at Wal-Mart assured me they are going to work with me on this as far as my hours are concerned so I won’t go over the pay limit. If they don’t play nice, then I will just quit. I just can’t jeopardize the $1300 dollars a month I receive in help with my medications with Medicare part D. 

Someone asked why I started back drinking.  I was simply to quell the anxiety I was experiencing.  I don’t think people realize from my writing about it how horribly crippling this anxiety was.  I was miserable and was willing to try anything.  The medications my psychiatrist prescribes just weren’t working and I am not to see him for another eight weeks.  I had to do something to make myself feel better and it was working.  It is medicine. I am simply self medicating.  I will have to work very hard to not let the drinking spiral out of control, but I think I can do it.  I’ve felt so much better it is amazing.  Would you begrudge a man simply wanting to feel better?

Spring Harkens...

What a gorgeous day!  Blues skies and sunshine is the focal point today.  They say we may even get up into the seventies. 

Nengaku wrote in his blog yesterday something that really touched a chord with me...

One line in the movie that I had a very strong reaction to - "Happiness is never real unless it is shared." My first reaction was "what a load of crap - I'm happy as a clam and I'm living all alone...." and then suddenly it occurred to me that I'm sharing my happiness every day with all my (blog) readers!

What has been so joyful and meaningful lately is to share with you on this blog my recovery from alcoholism and mental illness.  Like Nengaku, I am sharing my happiness with you all.  There have been some days where I am almost giddy with joy and happiness.  This is not normal for me.  Normal was dour, drunk, and depressed. No wonder most people in my life had left me by the wayside seeking greener pastures.  If they could only see me now!

I've spent a lot of time this morning at my hobby desk.  I like nothing more than assembling and painting my rolling stock kits.   Little works of art get to grace my bookshelves until the day arrives that I erect some bench work and rails and get a railroad running.  Hobbies are made of dreams, and I dream everyday now. 

The Short Goodbye

Joni Mitchell's Shine was playing in my computer room as me and Rosa sat in my den and discussed "things".  I've known this has been coming for awhile so was not surprised.

"Let's spend some time apart," Rosa told me sounding so cliched as we drank our coffee.

I watched longingly as she got in her car and left -- an empty coffee mug the only thing betraying her presence.  It was as if a vast gaping hole opened up in my heart.  I knew this was coming, though.  I am just too limited because of my station in life.  Mental illness.  No money to hardly do anything.  I don't blame her for spreading her wings and soaring to greener pastures. She has a car now.  A part time job.  She will soon have a new apartment.  I guess there was just no place to put the relic of a boyfriend that was me. 

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.   

Lazy Daze...

No one was down at the shopping center this morning.  I briefly saw Dexter walking to who knows where, but he didn't stop to chat.  I sat reading a Robert Jordan book as I drank a coke and smoked cigarillos. 

I tried to stay up all night last night, but didn't make it far past midnight.  I got so sleepy I had to go to bed.  I will try again tonight.  I want to be prepared come Monday night and the start of my job.  My Anonymous commenter seems to think I won't show up.  He may be right, but I am going to give it a good try. 

Not much is planned today.  I took Rosa home at lunch and came home to eat my last microwave meal.  Honey roasted chicken and mashed potatoes with chives.   I am now listening to Dr. Joy Browne, and will listen to Dr. Laura next.  Mom will come about two with my groceries for the week and we will fill up my car.  I hope you are all having a good day.  Mine is going well so far -- these last days of freedom. 

A Busy Mind...

Lately, I've felt better than ever mentally.  I am no longer morose or depressed.  The paranoia is gone.  I haven't had delusions in months.  I do have what I call a busy mind.  I can become easily overwhelmed with a lot going on.  I am scared this will effect my job performance or my ability to work at all.  My grandfather always said that the most important thing you can have is your health.  He died at age 55 of a brain tumor.  I believe him.  I want my brain to be healthy. 

I remember back to my younger and more virile days of my youth.  I could do any job.   And now a simple job at McDonald's has me worried and stymied.  Rosa and I were eating supper as I asked, "What if I can't do it?" "Just quit," was Rosa's reply. "You don't have to do anything you are uncomfortable with."   I want to do this though.  I want a new computer.  I want to be able to afford to get my license renewed.  I don't want to have to call Mom and Dad every time I just need some cokes, cigarettes, or food.  I am completely dependent upon them for my well being.  I want to be a self-supporting man. 

Oh well, I will know Monday night if I can do this or not.  That will be the litmus test.  If I can make it through that first third shift without a "busy mind" or my anxiety attacks, then I will have a major hurdle jumped.  It is going to be an interesting ride and I can't wait to write about it Tuesday morning!

Questions...

Rosa and I were sitting on the couch.  She was watching some banal television show.

"What are you going to do in nine months?" she asked me.

"Would do you mean?" I asked.

"Your disability will run out and you will have no way to pay for your medications."

"I am hoping they will have a pay-to-stay-in plan I can utilize," I replied.

"What about your Dad and the medications?"

"We will still be able to do that," I told her. "Work will start at 11 PM eastern time.  They are on central time."

"What if you have one of your panic attacks?"

"Then I will just breath deep and take a break.  Probably go have a cigarette."

"I am just scared for you," Rosa told me. "I just don't want things to get messed up."

"And that's why I love you," I said. "You genuinely care about me."

Rosa is in the kitchen now making some supper.  We are having cubed steak, creamed potatoes, and creamed corn.  The smells are wonderful.  I realize there are so many questions to me returning to work.  I can understand Rosa's concern.  It is going to be okay, though.  I will know in a few weeks if I will be able to continue. 

Do you want fries with that?

Well, I am the newest employee of McDonald's.  The interview went well.  I start Monday night and work from 10 PM to 7 AM.  Boy, am I ever going to be tired that first night.  I won't be the first time I've worked third shift.  In the early nineties, I worked as a forklift driver in a towel warehouse third shift.  I enjoyed working third better than any other.

I think this job is important to me learning to work again.  It is an entry level job, and will allow me to build up a resume again.  I will be very nervous come Monday night, though.  I am so scared I will have one of my vicious anxiety attacks due to the stress.  We will just have to tackle that when it arises.  

The Big Day...

"I think I may have a job," I told my nurse this morning during our every two week injection ritual.

"Oh, I am so proud of you!" she exclaimed as she gave me a hug.

I left the doctor's office and went by my father's pharmacy.  He was handing me my Benadryl as I told him about the job.

"Just don't go for the interview," he said. "I can't see you working at McDonald's anyway."

"I'll think about it," I told him. "I really want to work."

I left the pharmacy and went by my parent's house to get my Social Security card.  I never can get my mother's maid's name straight.  I call her by her sister's name.  She gets pissed off.   "Helen!" she said brusquely correcting me. 

Well, today is the big day.  Sadly, I can't afford to work and it is probably going to be the stupidest thing I have ever done by returning.  I am awash in emotion this morning as I ponder what to do.  I looked online and the job is most likely going to be third shift -- third shift at minimum wage.   Doesn't sound too appealing does it?  I am going to give it the good college try, though.  I hope to be working by this weekend.

Long Drive...

Well, I just got finished driving all the way to where I could be working.  It is 40 miles round trip.  I was worried I couldn't afford the gas to work there.  My fuel gauge only dropped a little bit. 

Now, how to convince my father this is a good thing?  He won't understand my desire to be independent or self-supporting.  He will say I won't work very long and I may not.  But, you know what?  I am going to give this a damn good try.  I am going to bust my ass for my boss these next few weeks and maybe, possibly, transfer to the McDonald's in town. 

Personally? I am so excited.  I want something to do with my days and there are just no volunteer opportunities here in town.  I will be working and learning, at the same time, how to work again.  Getting up for showers.  Being somewhere on time.  Performing my duties.  It will be a good test to see if I am still up to this despite my limitations.  I really haven't worked since 2003.  It has been a long, long time.  And just think of the blog fodder working at McDonald's will provide!

Joining the Crew...

I have an interview at McDonald's tomorrow at 11:15.  I just got the call from the manager a moment ago.  This was an online application where I had to take a test.  She said I scored a "green" on the test.  The job would be in Opelika, Alabama which is about a thirty minute drive from my home.  She basically said I was hired and asked me for my pants and shirt size for the uniform.  The interview would be a formality.   I am so scared.  I got so nervous my hands and knees started to shake.  I haven't worked in years.  This would be such a big step for me and my independence. 

Is the Grass Really Greener?

I've been thinking this morning about the grass always being greener on the other side, or is it?   I know I feel this urge to work, but I am very lucky.  I have most things that some in third world countries would die for.  A home.  Plenty of food.  Warmth.  I also have the freedom since I don't work to go to two AA meetings a day.  That is going to be my goal:  to get really active in AA.  To make it a lifestyle.  A new sober life.  To be of service to others.  I am still going to keep trying for vocational rehabilitation, and I am going to listen to my father for a change.  I think by being active in AA I will make new friendships, a paramount goal of mine.  Healthy friendships.  Friendships to last a lifetime. 

Oh McDonald's, Where Art Thou?

Ferret dressed as best as he could out of a trash bag, and was waiting on me on the corner of Cherry Drive for me to pick him up at 11:30.  He was impressed with my car and couldn't get over the fact my parents gave it to me.

"The only thing my mother gave me was a hard time," he told me as I drove.

We went to the AA meeting which was routine and then I set out to put in applications at various places.  I hit three McDonald's, one grocery store, and the Wendy's in Lagrange.  Ferret was growing impatient with the time it took for me to fill out applications so I brought him back "home."  I am hoping to hear from at least one or two of the McDonald's.  It will be a lengthy drive, but I am willing to try anything at this point.

Ferret picked up his white chip at the meeting signifying he is going to try sobriety.  I should be a better friend, but I am very skeptical.  Getting a home should come first before getting sober like the Housing First model.  I know that sounds strange, but it is terribly hard to keep from drinking if you are an alcoholic and homeless.  You have tons of time to fill and drinking fills it and makes the hours of the day fly by.  I agreed to take Ferret with me to any meetings I attend.  We will see how tomorrow goes and if Ferret is still willing to go.   

Dreams of Work

I laid in bed for a long time last night thinking about working.  I was tabulating the amount I could make a week at minimum wage.  The money really adds up over the weeks.  I grew so excited!  I hate to keep harping on working, but I feel this is the next step for me.  That first step of independence after being dependent for years. 

My main concern with working is will I stick with it once I start.  I know myself well, and work will get routine and tiresome over time.  I have my disability to fall back on and can live on it if need be -- that is a tempting deterrence to working full time.  I used to be so conditioned to going to work and rarely missed a day.  I worked for years, drank, and still only missed a day or two.  The hardest part for me will be getting up by alarm clock and taking a shower every morning.  Perseverance!  Will I quit to just languish in my meager disability allotment?   I think often of Kevin, The Homeless Guy, Barbieux, and think we are a lot alike in this regard.  I have no doubt he has already quit his job as he hasn't written about it in weeks.  Maddeningly, he is writing a blog about Pit Bull attacks which serves no purpose other than to stir up arguments with Pit Bull owners -- so Kevin can prove he is right that Pit Bulls are dangerous.  His priorities have always been so skewed.

I still haven't heard from Circle K or McDonald's, but I applied online.  I am now thinking it would better serve myself to drive down and get an application.  There is just no substitute to putting on some nice clothes and pounding the ground for a job, visiting every place in town.  I did find a temp agency downtown and need to talk to them as well, but my social anxieties are getting in the way.  I feel I look weird and people are staring at me.  "Doesn't he look odd?  He looks mentally ill!"  I seem to believe they are thinking.     

Process...

A shower has been had.  My fine blonde/brown hair is combed and held in place with a light spray of hairspray.  I have on a comfortable pair of khaki pants and my favorite flannel shirt.  No coat.  The temperatures are supposed to get up in the sixties today.  Rosa is washing the last of the dishes in the kitchen after breakfast.  I just heard her turn the dishwasher on.  We are about to embark on our several hours journey down to Opelika, Alabama to visit vocational rehabilitation.  Am I nervous?  Hell yeah!  But I will survive.

I am terribly impatient and realize voca. rehab. is a process.  Much paperwork will need to be filled out.  Medical records expunged.  Tests taken to determine my aptitude for a job.  I will probably be assigned a case worker or possibly a social worker.  I am excited.  I am excited to be moving forward in this point in my life.  To be sober enough just to tackle this new avenue of life is a novelty to me. This time of the morning would usually find me too drunk to do anything, but sleep off a hangover.

Lunch will be at Red Lobster.  I have a gift certificate from my brother and his wife.  Those delicious garlic biscuits will be consumed along with their crisp and cold salad smothered in blue cheese dressing.  I think I will have the fried catfish fillet and a baked potato.  Rosa was heard mumbling about fried shrimp this morning.

Well, let me go read my daily AA devotional and watch The Weather Channel for a bit.  It is going to be an exciting day!