Thursday, August 31, 2017

She 3


This is the third in a series of posts that starts here.

 

The pain in her life was more than any one person should have to suffer. There are many forms of abuse out in the world, and she was a victim on many levels. She needed courage, she needed hope, and she needed to be loved. I prayed for her to find the courage to be strong. I gave her hope that her future could be bright. And I showed her it is possible to have fun in life: to smile and laugh every day without fear or restraint.

She gives me a lot of credit for helping her get out of a terrible situation, but I tell her every day that she is the one who did the work, I was merely there to support her and tell her she was wanted.

 

We continued our coffee dates. We would meet for hours before work that passed as minutes in our paradigm. We could talk the whole time, or sit in absolute silence without awkward tension. I have never felt so comfortable or connected to a person, and we locked in on each other and smiled for no reason other than pure delight.

It was tough for a while to hide our emotions from the people we worked with. At one point, well before I ever talked to her or told her jokes, I may have told a few people there that I would marry her someday. This was before I knew she had a husband, and before I found out that she likes country music. I had that very thought that moment I was standing in the bar at my interview: I didn’t think it, something said it, “There she is.” I knew what it meant.

A few days after we started talking, and privately meeting up for our coffee rendezvous, somebody took something out of context and started a rumor that we were sleeping together. This, I assure you, was not true, but it spread like wild fire and we were both talked to by management and the person responsible was reprimanded and slowly the rumors quieted, and we continued in secrecy.

This is a good point to mention that there are two beautiful creations as a result of the marriage. She has two amazing daughters that gave her hope and strength and happiness in her life when there was little else to be grateful for. I won’t write too much on that subject now, but it will be relevant to a later post.

 

We wanted to spend more time together but that would be difficult to do with an ever-prying husband and children to take care of at home. Me going to her place was out of the question as he didn’t know about me and surely he would fret. She lives fifty minutes away, so travel for us is less manageable than you might think. But, we managed to see each other before work, and we would often go for drives after work, meeting in the Lund’s parking lot down the road as not to arouse suspicion amongst the other employees. We were in our own little world when we were together; nothing could get between us.

A few weeks had passed since we exchanged our very first words through the kitchen window, and the inevitable happened: he found out.

 

To be continued…

 

Tuesday, August 29, 2017

She Part 2


This is the second in a series of posts that starts here.

 

Finding out that the person you are falling for is married is disappointing to say the least. All of the daydreams and fantasies that played out in my head would be for naught, and I would still have to see her at work every day, smiling, laughing, and living a life I wanted to be a part of. But that isn’t what happened. She carried with her a great sadness, and only briefly and on occasion would she let go and smile. I needed to know more.

We had a brief but friendly conversation over Facebook Messenger on June 27th during which she told me she had been reading this blog. She gravitated toward the subject matter because she had been dealing with a very similar situation to my bad years, for the past few years herself. We agreed to have coffee together, and found a spot to meet midway between our respective houses, The Depot Coffeehouse.

We sat, I listened, and we drank coffee. She sipped hers slowly as she spilled her story to me as I gulped ferociously at my morning java as I always do. Now, what we talked about is private, and he isn’t here to defend himself, so I will only share this post that I wrote shortly after our first meeting. The last paragraph was written as a result of our conversation, and it motivated her to start the process of change in her life that she had so desperately wanted to for far too long.

That meeting was the first of many. I was in a bind for a moment because on a technicality, she was married. But mentally and physically she had removed herself from that relationship long ago, and I know from experience and Wayne Gretzky that we miss 100% of the shots that we don’t take, and I knew that I wanted to be a part of her life. I just needed to summon the courage to figure out what the next step should be. Then I realized there aren’t any set guidelines or steps to life. I realized that I had already been doing all of the work necessary to be the person I wanted to be, and if I continued to do what I was doing, my life would come together in the shape it was going to be: I was no longer in control, my God of my understanding would guide me, and give me the courage to deal with whatever was given to me.

For weeks we continued to talk outside of work. For weeks I watched her struggle with her life at home as it was and as it had been for years. And for weeks I gave her advice as unbiased as it could be; from my perspective as a recovering alcoholic. And on a daily basis, I watched her gain her own courage—her own strength from within—to move forward with a decision she had made long ago. She had found a piece of her life had been missing, and she set out on a journey to find it. She found that she could be happy. She realized she could smile every day.

We kissed.

 

To be continued…

Sunday, August 27, 2017

She


It’s been nearly four months since I had my interview at the Lafayette Club. I’ve written extensively on the subject as time has allowed over the summer season, but I have one subject I’ve only barely broached.

I remember clearly being lead around the enormous compound by my future boss on the day of the interview. I was dressed in tan slacks with a blue plaid shirt tucked in, brown leather shoes to match my belt and watch: I looked like I wanted a job. Maybe I even used “product” in my hair like some sort of model. A lot of people say I look like a model.

I remember the tour well because something significant happened; I saw her for the first time. She sat across the bar doing paperwork (an employee not a patron) as I stood and tried to listen to the history of the dining room. I stared. I had never seen such a beautiful woman. My brain told me then that I would take the job because I needed to get to know her. I knew then that I needed to taker her on a date. I don’t think she ever looked up, but I hoped that if she did, she would feel the same way.

Time passed, I started working behind the line, and I got to see her more often. I was scared to talk to her at first; in fact, I would look down every time she walked by in fear of her catching me staring. Fears get in the way of a lot of our lives, so I decided that plan wasn’t working. One day she was on the opposite side of the line and I offered her a sweet potato fry, and she accepted, and she smiled. The smile nearly buckled my knees. I whispered in French, “Tu me tues.” You kill me.

I needed a plan. I decided to kill two birds with one stone: I would bring hilarious jokes to work every day and tell them to her. She would laugh, and I would get to see her smile.  So I did. Every day I would bring the funny, and every day she would laugh, and every day I would get to see her laugh. And it just kept going.

 

Each day of our lives represents opportunity to better this world. I have found over the past few years that if I continue to do things to help others: to make them laugh, to listen, to care, my life in turn becomes more whole. Each day I am given I try to figure out what I can give to this world, and when I focus on that instead of myself, good things seem to keep happening, so for today, I’m going to keep doing what I’ve been doing, because what’s happening is incredible.

 

Every day we would talk over the foodservice counter (through the window in kitchen speak.) Every day I would learn a little more, and I would want to know more. And one day, we became Facebook friends. And that’s when I found out she had a husband.

 

 

To be continued…

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Debt


Making amends is a broad term for an alcoholic/drug addict. There is a spectrum of situations which require our attention, and not all of them make you feel good at the time. I have been working on my amends for over a year now, and yesterday I took a big, if not financially crippling step toward repairing an old debt.

About a year before I went to prison I was still desperately hanging on to my old apartment in Fountain. I was months behind in rent, and hadn’t paid my utility bill… ever. Needless to say, my power was shut off and I lived like an indoor homeless man from mid-summer, to the depths of winter using flashlights to illuminate the garbage I surrounded myself with like meth paraphernalia and… nope, just meth paraphernalia, and the oven as a source of heat. I worked, but not very well, and I spent most of my free time as a travelling drug dealer. Rarely would I let anybody in my apartment because I was too lazy to pick up the dog shit or the debris I lived in.

At one point I allowed another drug addict (or maybe three) to move in with me under the conditions that she pay all back rent and utility bills. Just like that, the power was restored, and my landlord was happy again. Three days later there was a knock on my door and when I opened it up, the landlord handed me the worthless check she had been given and stormed off. As I was going back up the stairs, my phone rang and it was Tri-County Electric calling to tell me that the power would be out again until a real payment was made. Stolen checks are not allowed as a form of payment in reality, fortunately I was not part of that or I could have been looking at forgery or fraud, or who knows what. I kicked everybody out before the winter came. I managed to get caught up on rent, but I never was able to get the power restored.

What little I slept under the influence of meth was underneath several blankets on a couch in a living room about 20 feet away from the oven. I would shiver all night, possibly from the cold, maybe from detox, and I would wake up to my alarm after a few hours and start the process all over. Drugs, work, drugs, sell drugs, drugs, nap. That was my life.

 

On my credit report is a single derogatory mark. It is a collection account for the electric company that kept me in the dark because I couldn’t pay. I owe them $762 and yesterday I called them and said that I wanted to pay my debt. She sounded excited as I’m sure many people don’t go out of their way to pay off a debt from almost four years ago. I agreed to a payment plan over six months at roughly $120 per month, the first payment being yesterday. I have the ability and means to pay this debt, so there is no reason I shouldn’t.

 

Everything I have ever done—good and bad—makes me who I am. I am grateful I have stories like these to look back on; to help put things in perspective now and give me guides to progress. I am not proud of everything I have ever done, but I am accepting of my past, and as I continue to make amends in every form, the past becomes clearer, and there is less to regret and now more to look forward to.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Thermophore


So what do I do with five dollars at Goodwill? I buy none other than the world famous Petite Thermophore. Not only does its penetrating moist heat temporarily relieve pain, it actually creates its own moisture from the environment around it.

I thought I would take a break from my normal recovery-related blog posts to share with you a product I find so fascinating, I thought I could come up with 700 words to describe it and its features and benefits. I will go for as long as I can, and I hope you laugh at least twice.

The Petite Thermophore is and automatic moist heat pack. It can assist in relieving all muscle tension in all parts of the body as you will see below in some of the pictures I have provided. The application of moist heat-fomentation-is a commonly prescribed therapy in medical practice today (1991). The body responds to moist heat by dilating the blood vessels, increasing the blood flow to the area under treatment. This increased circulation speeds recovery by bringing in fresh blood cells and taking away the wastes which may hinder healing. (I think it’s important to note that those wastes are then filtered through the liver and turned into feces.)

This particular hot pack stands alone in the industry as being more effective than other electric heating pads because it delivers very moist heat. Moist heat is especially useful in treating pain caused by muscle spasms from strain and tension.

Now that’s all pretty boring, but it was necessary for me to use the word moist as many times as possible in a blog post.

 

Now here’s what I find interesting. I love marketing, and without good pictures of what this product can be used for, I wouldn’t have taken a second look. But here we are. As I look at the box now, I can’t help but wonder where these people are. I wonder what their lives were like back in the early 90’s. Did these actors get a phone call from their agent asking them if they wanted to do some modeling? Was the guy in the middle excited that he finally landed some professional work? Did he run home from his job at the shoe store to tell his cat they would be “eatin’ good” tonight? Why isn’t the lady on the left smiling? Is that part just stock footage of a kidnapping? Does she know she’s a part of this? Have these people ever worked in the modeling industry before or after? Is there like a medical therapy moisture pad actor’s guild? No. Google says no to that last one.


I did a little more research and found that this product is still made, but the box is different. It retails for $38.09 and I found a different brand that looks more like a brown mustache-poop.

I plan on going to more Goodwill stores and other thrift outlets because somebody I like likes them, and I like that. I hope to be able to bring you more of these terrific finds in the future, and maybe someday I will open a thrift store of my own where I sell only horrible used medical goods.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Whole


I recently passed a milestone at work. As of August 8th, I have been there for 90 days. As is the idea of being sober (not just being sober, there’s actually a lot more that needs to be done as you maybe have read over the past (almost three years. (Has it been nearly three years since my first post already? Holy shit!)), things just keep getting better. I now have medical, dental, and vision insurance like most of you “normies” have had for years. Maybe it doesn’t even sound like a big deal, but it is to me.

This is a life transformed from the days where I was not only uninsured for my life and body, but any vehicle I was in. I didn’t have my license, but I drove (packed to the gills with drugs and cash.). I didn’t have medical insurance, but I polluted my body with every chemical I could find. I didn’t have vision insurance, and I couldn’t see. I did not have dental insurance, but surely I ate crystal meth. Somehow I made it out alive from that lifestyle, but it wasn’t for lack of trying to die.

About a year-and-a-half ago, I strolled into the University Of Minnesota School Of Dentistry, which is where people go if they are uninsured. It had been a decade since I had seen a mouth doctor, and I was expecting the worst. Somehow, I had made it ten years without developing a cavity; possibly due to the incredible sums of alcohol I ingested, and I was given a routine cleaning and they fixed up a few teeth. If you’ve never read this post it gives you a better idea of where I was almost two years ago. It’s also from the old blog, and there’s some good stuff associated with it if you navigate around a bit.

Anyhow, I have an appointment with my new dentist coming up on Thursday, and I’m a little worried that my obsession with sugar might have an adverse effect on my oral hygiene. We shall see, and you will read what I will write. Right?

 

It’s been a taxing summer. I’ve been working roughly 50 hours-per-week for a while now and it does take a toll. This week however, I have an extra day off. This Thursday I will be taking an A.A. meeting to the Ramsey County Detox Center with a few friends from my home group. This will be my first time doing such a thing, and I am hopeful that we are able to convey our message with buoyancy. As an alcoholic, I am sometimes prone to selfishness. As much as I hope we are able to “save” a few struggling alcoholics from taking that next drink, I am hopeful to get something out of this as well. I’ve never been in detox myself, but I should have been countless times. It will be tough to see the condition that these people are in, and that’s what I need to see to remind myself of what I was, and what I can be if I ever think I can pick up that first drink.
 
 The only thing I have control over is that first beer or shot. As soon as it goes in, the animal instinct takes over and the day is done, the week is gone, and the years fly by in a fit of alcoholic fury. There is no longer sanity, morality, or me. I am just gone.

That is why I must continue to do what I do: I want to be me. I want to live. Life is love, and I love life.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Babe-O


It’s already August. Where does the time go? It seems like yesterday I walked into the Lafayette Country Club for the first time with trepidation and had my interview. On the 8th of this month, it will have been 90 days. Labor Day weekend marks the end of the busy season for most restaurants, and that is just over a month away now: the children will be going back to school, and the world slows down again. I’m hoping that for me, I will be working fewer hours, which will also mean making the drive to the club less often.

I said in the beginning of this new adventure that I might be thinking about moving closer to the Lake Minnetonka area, and I still am, I just haven’t had time to think or move as my days off have been consumed by recovery, and…… somebody new in my life. I’ve been hesitant to write anything because this will be the third time since I started my new blog that I will have told you about a new lady in my life and I don’t want you thinking that I’m one of those whores that you see on the television shows. I’m not ready to give anything away just yet, but it is a very real result of this blog that we started talking, and it just kept going. That’s all for now on the topic, but I’ve broken the ice. We’ll see how she takes it, and I will proceed with caution.

Back to work: My arms and hands are riddled with burns, cuts, and blisters. Nearly all of the hair on my lower arms has been singed off and when it grows back it’s all thin and creepy, and the tip remains white and curly from the initial heat shock. I still love what I do, and I look forward to going into work—most days—every day (sometimes.) Back to what I said there before my hilarious word-play: I still love what I do. I love the challenge that each day represents, and I keep my cool under the most stressful of rushes when it is most important to do so. Once the busy season is done, I can start moving around to other stations and learning new things, so I can be ready to be even more useful once the busy season hits again.

For now, I will continue on the path that I have made for myself and enjoy the life that each day brings me. I have found that without anger and resentment, I am left with only happiness and love, and that is what I choose to bring into this world every day I wake up. Staying positive is the name of my game, and the game is good these days.

 

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...