Vinnie, Vince, Vincent '98-'15

So much has happened in my life over the past two years. Fortunately for you, I’ve been writing about it and publishing it on the internet for the world to enjoy. Since I will be quite busy cooking for my BBQ tomorrow, I wanted to get this out today. Although I don’t technically have two years sober until tomorrow, I have faith I will make it without a drug or a drink until then.

Two years ago I walked into a courtroom looking exactly like this. In fact, this picture was taken less than 20 minutes after my 50-month sentence was handed down.I had ingested a whole gram of meth just before I walked in to the courthouse, and you can see it in my eyes.

Of course I stole this picture from the world wide web so there are some additions to it but you get the idea, I was a mess.

13 days later I was transported to St Cloud prison where they were able to capture this gem on film, and I was able to track it down for you.

The following pictures are reminders of where my life has been. They are not in any particular order, nor could I possibly remember when or where they are all from. And sadly, these are only about half of the mugshots I have accrued over the past 19 years as a habitual criminal, I'm sure if I spent a little more time I could have tracked them down.  So, here goes...

 This of course is the infamous picture that was all over the news from the meth bust in South Rochester.

 This is a picture of a male model that happens to look like me.

 So, I'm definitely going to grow this hair out and see if maybe I can track this shirt down at a Walgreen's somewhere to recreate this look very soon.

 Uhh. I don't know, man.

 Ditto.

 Fuck me.

 This is my favorite, and was possibly the result of a broken ankle, a fight with a cop, and a little arson charge.

It looks like I was pretty cracked out here, but this is what I looked like in my early teens. 

Then there's this one. It's my other favorite. It was taken on September 6th, 2015 two days before my release from prison. I hope it is the last picture ever taken of me in captivity. There's so much I've been doing and so much I can continue to do to make sure this is where the mugshots stop. 

Tomorrow will mark my two year sobriety anniversary. Some might say that I had an unfair advantage being locked up for the first 15 months, but I don't agree. There were plenty of chances to use or abuse inside, but I chose the road less traveled. I participated in A.A. meetings whenever I could, and I refrained from joining in with the pill-popper trade that goes on inside the walls. I put everything into the six month cognitive behavioral treatment I went through at C.I.P. because I knew that I needed to face this thing head on (Head on, apply directly to the forehead...) if I had any chance of surviving on the outs. 

And here I am.

Blogging 101

After a lengthy unintentional hiatus, you are now once again able to get e-mail notifications when I publish new posts. You’ll have to take the same steps as you did before by going to the web version of the blog and following the instructions at the bottom of the page. I don’t know exactly what went wrong, but I did somehow make it work again. 

I haven’t written anything about prison for a while. In fact, I rarely think about being there anymore, and even when I spoke about it the other night, it felt like it had been a lifetime ago that I was in those horrible places. It’s been nearly eight months, and aside from a little hiccup and a 30-day loss of all of my freedoms, I’ve done exceptionally well out here. This is my 101^st post on this blog, so I’d like to take this opportunity to look back on what I’ve accomplished in this relatively short period of time.

Yesterday, my bosses told me that they value me as an employee, in fact, they said it has been years since they had an employee that was as motivated and hard working as me. They then gave me a $2 per hour raise which is incredible for me. I’m not trying to toot my own horn here but, Beep Beep, that’s pretty fucking awesome! I have worked my ass off every day since they gave me a job just three weeks out of prison. The work is often frustrating and repetitive, but I show up and I don’t complain because I am grateful to be working full-time.

I have a car that looks like it’s been through my life. It’s cost me so much recently that I could have bought a much nicer car if I had spent the money I had to on new tires, brakes and rotors, and a high-mileage oil change, all at the same time as a down payment. But, it’s mine. It’s in my name, it’s insured, and I have my license, all things that are less common in recovery than in the normal world. I spent all of that money and I could afford to do it and have money left over to spend on necessities. I’m never broke, and that’s huge.

I moved out of my mom’s house. Again. Some of you probably did that for the last time in your teens, and I think that is pretty normal. I’ve done it a couple times in my teens, a couple more in my twenties, and again in my thirties. I want this to be the last time, so I need to work hard to keep on the straight and narrow. I think I’m doing alright so far.

I have rekindled relationships with my family. Some I communicate with and see more often than others, but I am part of the whole again, and I can tell you that I can see now what I was missing out on for all of those years. I’m no longer afraid of them finding out all of my terrible little secrets. They know, and they accept me for who I am and what I’ve been through. I love them. I love you guys!

I’ve gotten over my fear of being around people and in public places. That was a tough one. For months I had trouble looking people in the eye and having normal conversations. Actually, I still have some difficulty, but it’s getting better. Anxiety doesn’t seem to rule my life anymore. My favorite part of every week is going to my home group and gathering for fellowship afterward with a group that has become very close over the past few months. I hope this continues for many years.

That’s a lot of progress in just under eight months. I am excited to see what the future holds. I know I have a lot of work left, but I am up for the challenge. I don't have everything I want yet, but I have everything I need. I’m loving life.

etc...

It's Thursday morning and I'm exhausted. Yesterday went very quickly, but it took a lot our of me.

I started work at 6, but I had been up since before 5 kicking nothing with restless legs. I was very busy at work. I don't sit while I work, and I worked straight through all of my breaks. My Fitbit says I walked over seven miles and took over 13,000 steps while I was at work.

I punched out at two and walked six blocks to catch the train to the University of Minnesota School of Dentistry, where I was due for a routine exam. I'm always so worried about being late for anything, that I arrived with 45 minutes to spare. I checked in, handed her some new insurance information, and slumped over in a chair. I will be as early next time, and I will wait nearly an hour as I did this time, but I will never be late.

Anyhow, I was greeted by a Dentist, not a student, and told that I would be in and out in under an hour. I liked the sound of that. I sat in the chair which began to recline as we went over the basics as is the standard for any medical visit. She looked over my information from my previous visits, and she went to town.

45 minutes later I was all cleaned up. She said I had been taking care of my teeth, which I was happy to hear from a professional, because I have. I had no cavities or even any areas of concern, so we parted ways.

I've been paying insurance for months and I hadn't used it. The original plan was to use it to see a Doctor about my RLS, but I don't know how to call  a Doctor so I just deal with it. Anyhow, my insurance covered the whole visit which was great because I have a lot of expenses coming up and I thought I'd be out $100.

Fast forward a bit, it's just before 6pm and I head out for the last session of my fourth step workshop. The last part of this "fearless and searching moral inventory" deals with sex. Well, I've got a few pages to write and I'll just leave it at that. (Right this moment I found out Prince died, RIP.)

Ten minutes after that lets out, I go upstairs to where I chair my home group. It's been my favorite part of every week for a long time now. As usual, it's a great meeting and I leave with a sense of happiness. I make the short drive to The Nook on Randolph and Hamline where we suffer through slow service and have a blast playing cards against humanity. It's been a long day and I'm somewhat relieved that I have to be home by 10:30 according to the law.

I sleep, fitfully at best.

I'm awake at 5am again. I toss. I turn. Fuck it. I watch a few episodes of Its Always  Sunny, and I get ready for the day. I drive to the Firestone shop by my work to get an oil change and to have them make sure nothing will fall off or explode on my road trip this Sunday. I get a call saying everything checks out except for the front brakes. Sweet, I can afford to have that done.

And here we are now at 12:50pm, Thursday afternoon. These days, weeks, and months have been flying by. I wish I could make the fun parts last longer but I can't, so I will just try to enjoy them even more.

I am really pumped for Sunday down in S.E.MN. Food. Fun. Friends. That's what it's all about.

I'm tired. I'm done writing. 

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 9^th 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…