Thursday, March 31, 2016

Time to Make a Move

Again, I must interrupt my series of posts on jobs because a rather important event is about to happen in my life and I absolutely want to share it with you. Just shy of seven months as a free man, I am happy to report that, as a 37-year-old, I am moving out of my mother's home. Again. Maybe for the fourth time in my life, and hopefully for the last.

I alluded to this in my last post but not before because I didn't want to get overexcited about it until it was actually approved by my agents. Now it is official, and I can proudly relate this information to you: I AM MOVING! This Saturday, in fact. Just two short days from now.

I have actually written about this move before, but as a failed attempt at leaving the nest possibly too early. I'm moving into a house with two sober guys from the program, one of which I was in prison with, and I've worked with for some time. He no longer works with me, but we remain friends. I don’t know the other guy, but he’s sober, and that counts for a lot.

I’ve been to see the house once. It’s small as you can see in the picture I haven’t added yet, but I’ll have my own room, so it isn’t like a sober house environment. There isn’t a house manager that watches over us, or anybody to give us random shakedowns and breathalyzers. I have my agents for that. This is a step forward.

It couldn’t come at a better time, in my opinion, as I will be moving on to the next phase of I.S.R. on the 9th of April. That will open up a lot more time that I can spend doing things that I want to do like go to more meetings, and spending more time with my family. I am also finishing the last three hours of my community service this Sunday, which I believe I mentioned previously.

It’s all lining up. Everything is going well in so many ways. So I need to be really careful. For somebody like me, good news can be all I need to trick myself into thinking I deserve a reward. Maybe I can go out and celebrate with just one drink, or just a little crack (“A little” crack doesn’t actually exist. It’s an all or nothing drug. For more information, go here). I mean, at this point I’ve built myself a pretty good network of people that I can reach out to if the urge hits me, but it’s always good to layer on the protection.

This disease of mine can also be described as an allergy. When I drink or do drugs, things just go haywire. My body responds differently to them than normal people. Also, my allergy in particular is a little more severe than say, a gluten allergy. Oh, also I don’t believe that’s a real allergy, but I’m not a Doctor. Anyhow, let’s say that somebody with a gluten allergy accidentally ingests some flour. Well, maybe an hour or so later, they fart a little and that causes some slight discomfort or embarrassment. Well, when I ingest a little alcohol, or maybe some meth, my world flips upside down. I can no longer take care of myself financially, mentally, or physically. And this allergy affects others, too. For example, if I smoke crack, you may no longer have a television, and some of your smaller valuables may go missing, as well.

Simply put, chemicals make me not give a fuck about you or me. And I’d really like to avoid all of that so that’s why I’ve immersed myself in this program of Alcoholics Anonymous. And I’m not worried about relapsing because of my new place and my new freedoms, I’m excited to see what I can do with them. And I’m really happy to be able to share of this with you people. And for you that are new to this blog, I encourage you to see where it all started almost two years ago with just five pieces of writing paper, and a 3” flexible safety pen behind the unforgiving bars at St. Cloud Men’s Reformatory/State Prison. Until next time…


Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Jobs Part 6



For a little while, I had a job that could have been a career. I say that because it’s the only job I’ve ever had that had more than just insurance benefits and vacation. I have written a few times about working at the Kemp's ice cream factory in Rochester, but I will expound here a little more.

I was drug and alcohol free when I started there, so I easily passed the drug test to get hired on. It was that big change in my life, though, that I believe was the catalyst for my relapse shortly thereafter. I was far away from any of the people that cared about me. I didn’t have a support network there, so I made the decision that I could try controlled drinking, I just wasn’t sure when. I waited a while, and during a relationship I started with an amazing woman I thought I loved, I made plans to go on a cruise. I’ve said this all before, so let me skip to the downfall as it relates to work.

I came back from the cruise, broke up (I was dumped) with my girlfriend, and really started hitting the bottle. It didn’t take long for the urge to hit the hard stuff and that’s when I very quickly started using meth. I had tried it before, but I had never been so financially stable that I could afford to use all day, every day. I really took a liking to the stuff, and I really liked the new friends that seemed to like me and my never-ending stash of fun. Very quickly, work became a nuisance. I wanted to get high all day, and it was annoying to have to sneak into the bathroom so often to smoke my bubble. I started using my sick days. Then I used up all of my vacation days. And then I found out that they gave you two days paid for funeral leave and there was no limit to that. So, my family started dying off left and right. First my grandparents, then an uncle. And then they called me out on my lie by asking me to bring proof in an obituary or anything like that. And that’s when I decided I didn’t need their stupid job with benefits, and I could sell meth full time to pay the bills.

Which brings me to my next job: Meth Dealer. It came with no benefits. I did however lose my real friends, contact with my family, weight, respect, self-esteem, all of my worldly possessions, a car, someone else’s car, my apartment, my real job, my status as a college student, oh yeah, and all of my fucking money that I thought would pay the bills, and so much more. Every penny I made went right back into “The Game.” Don’t get me wrong, there were days where I made thousands, but that would just make me want to party harder. I started sleeping in hotels which became very expensive, not just because the room was expensive, but because I would invite people over to get high for free. Well I guess it wasn’t free.  I never really understood how I could afford to spend $100 a night for a room, but not $500 a month for rent. Ugh.

As a drug dealer, I was needed constantly. I drove all day, all night, sometimes for three or four days straight. From city to city, and back. To my dealer’s house, and all over again. It was constant.

Shortly after I had an accident in which I woke up hurtling through the air at 70mph, I was helped into making the decision to quit. A friend of a friend came to get me from Rochester and brought me to a small town about 45 minutes south called Fountain. I didn’t know it at the time, but this is the area I would live in for many years, and I would make some great friends, and make some great stories.

Alright folks, I still have a couple more posts to do on jobs, but I do have some big news coming up so get ready to be excited for me! Until next time…

And Counting

I remember vividly waking up at 5:19am, one minute precisely before the lights would come on; the indication that it was time to stand a...