Sunday, February 9, 2014
BREAKING HEARTS
One thing that us with alcohol or drug problems do, is break our loved ones' hearts. Our family, friends, anyone close enough. We just say and do these things while under the influence, that we'd never say otherwise. And we come out of the fog and realize this, it breaks our hearts too. During the last binge, I hurt someone who is very very dear to me, and one of my favoritest people of all time. And a week ago, when my mind could think somewhat clearly, I realized I hurt her, and a tear ran down my cheek, and then another... Because she means very much to me. Realizing I hurt her feels worse than breaking my heart, it feels like tearing my soul.
BINGES, AND THEN SOME
What's motivated me, primarily, to write about these experiences, was that on my last binge, from January 19 to 28, I said or texted some things that hurt a friend. And I really want to repair that friendship. I want her to understand what makes me 'tick' so she can understand why I would act in such a way.
When people with alcohol problems, like myself, get even a small bit of alcohol in our systems, we say and do things that make no sense. We become different people. I was sober for 11 months and was really bummed out on that weekend. There has been a lot going on in my life, most importantly my wife wouldn't let me see my son at Christmas, and worse she changed her cell phone number. So, I have no idea where they are and how my son is doing. Some other things too, my dad died just before Christmas, and also problems at work. And rather than talk it out with a friend I just kept it all inside. And it was too much to keep inside, and it just got to me. So I just bought some wine and stayed intoxicated for 9 days. I don't remember much of those days, but then, that was kind of the point in a curious sort of logic.
On day 9 I was so sick I could barely walk, much less go out and buy more alcohol. This is how these binges end, I've drank so much I'm too sick to drink anymore. I thought I was dying and held on to a rosary much of January 28 and January 29 and prayed to God that I wouldn't die. Maybe I was close to death, I didn't eat for the last 4 days, and my system was poisoned with alcohol. I was really sick.
Afterwards, I cleaned up the mess, 2 large trash bags of bottles and cans.
Rehab helps, but THIS is what keeps me sober, the memories of the last day of such a binge. It's the most horrible, scary feeling I can think of. Shaking uncontrollably, sweating buckets, too weak to walk to the bathroom, feeling death close by. It's really bad. This is what I remember each day for months afterward that keeps any cravings for a 'buzz' out of my mind. In fact, during this last binge I really don't remember too much of having a buzz, I just drank to stay numb, and I drank wine all day until I passed out. Curiously, I cannot stand hard liquor but it doesn't matter the form alcohol comes in, it's how much is consumed.
There was a lot of pain in my life that I just wanted to not feel for a few days.
But the smart thing, and I knew this before I took that first drink on January 19, is to talk it out. I just couldn't reach out. The ego thing, the 'attitude' thing is going to kill me. And I don't want my kid to grow up without a dad. At some point, I've got to get over this, for my son's sake.
My son and I are best buddies.
I finally did reach out to one of my friends, on January 29, I called him and told him to come over, that I needed some help. When I let him in, he saw me in this condition and was horrified, I remember the look on his face. He saw all these bottles all over the room, and was shocked, he'd never known me to drink.
My friend twice offered to take me to a hospital. I said no, but I really wanted to go to one. Detoxing from alcohol or drugs is very dangerous.
Bear in mind that on the Friday before this binge, I had no thoughts of drinking, and bear in mind that I'd gone 11 months without a drink. Then BAM! 10 days later and my body is poisoned and I feel like I'm dying.
But my friends visit cheered me up mentally, and for 3 hours I told him how I'd come to this point. Basically my life story, my rehabs, my family feuds, my dead brother, my abusive dad, my current problems, everything. A lot of how we get along physically is based on how we think mentally, and this visit was a huge boost to my mood, it helped me get better bodily.
Anyway, this was a Thursday, and to skip ahead a few days on Saturday I was well enough to go hang out that night. I cried a lot all day though, I realized some of the bullshit I said or did during the binge. Especially the friend I hurt, when I realized this my heart was broken.
Then on Sunday, hung out all day. What does 'hang out' mean? Just something I do with people like me. We kinda hang together, to get through this sort of thing...
Sunday night, well I really overdid it, I'm still sweating, shaking, detoxing; but there's just some feature of my personality that won't let me rest like a normal person, like the speedometer is always pegged.
So while my body is still working through the poison, I decide to go to the health club. I laid down at about 7:00 pm that night, after getting home, and it felt good to lay down. I had hardly slept in 4 days, since passing out from alcohol on January 27. This is another feature of detoxing, there's some adrenaline rush that kicks in for some people - like me - that keeps us from sleeping during the ordeal. Who knows, maybe this is what keeps my body from shutting down. But after laying down, I thought I still needed to do something more.
So I'm in the jacuzzi at 7:45 pm, it's very hot, feels like 150 degrees, I don't know as there was no thermometer, I stayed in for 15 minutes and stood up, and felt really weak, really dizzy. I mean REALLY WEAK. I could barely get out, and when I did, I could barely walk about 20 feet to a pool chair. I laid down on the pool chair, and covered my self up with towels, like a blanket, but I wasn't cold. I thought maybe after 15 minutes, or half hour, I'd feel better, but at 8:15 I realized something didn't feel right. I was the only guest there, and yelled over to the attendant to call a doctor. He asked what was wrong and I said I don't know but I feel really bad.
He called 911 and the ambulance came, and it's a good thing, as my blood pressure was only 70 / 30. That's barely anything there folks. I was almost dead.
And then I'm in the hospital, and somehow recovering on my own. They didn't give me any drugs or anything, but just hooked me up to some heart monitor and put me in bed, I think I was in the ICU...
I asked for an Ambien to help me sleep, it worked, first sleep in days. I had these vivid dreams all night, and talked in my sleep. The next morning, the doctor said I was hallucinating during this sleep, I can only remember some OK dreams but they seemed real. I think I may have sleep-walked, I think Ambien does this to some people.
I was in the hospital from Sunday night until Thursday afternoon. One reason for the long stay was my diabetes had my body chemistry out of whack, every 2 hours they took a blood sample and shot me with insulin. They also said my other chemistry was out of whack too, that my sodium levels were too low. Probably the detoxing from alcohol did this.
The only diagnosis I got was that I was dehydrated. I had been sick ever since New Year's Eve with a cough and virus, on top of all of that.
I'll close for now, and thank God I'm still alive to tell these tales. Yeah, my guardian angel is a GOOD one...
When people with alcohol problems, like myself, get even a small bit of alcohol in our systems, we say and do things that make no sense. We become different people. I was sober for 11 months and was really bummed out on that weekend. There has been a lot going on in my life, most importantly my wife wouldn't let me see my son at Christmas, and worse she changed her cell phone number. So, I have no idea where they are and how my son is doing. Some other things too, my dad died just before Christmas, and also problems at work. And rather than talk it out with a friend I just kept it all inside. And it was too much to keep inside, and it just got to me. So I just bought some wine and stayed intoxicated for 9 days. I don't remember much of those days, but then, that was kind of the point in a curious sort of logic.
On day 9 I was so sick I could barely walk, much less go out and buy more alcohol. This is how these binges end, I've drank so much I'm too sick to drink anymore. I thought I was dying and held on to a rosary much of January 28 and January 29 and prayed to God that I wouldn't die. Maybe I was close to death, I didn't eat for the last 4 days, and my system was poisoned with alcohol. I was really sick.
Afterwards, I cleaned up the mess, 2 large trash bags of bottles and cans.
Rehab helps, but THIS is what keeps me sober, the memories of the last day of such a binge. It's the most horrible, scary feeling I can think of. Shaking uncontrollably, sweating buckets, too weak to walk to the bathroom, feeling death close by. It's really bad. This is what I remember each day for months afterward that keeps any cravings for a 'buzz' out of my mind. In fact, during this last binge I really don't remember too much of having a buzz, I just drank to stay numb, and I drank wine all day until I passed out. Curiously, I cannot stand hard liquor but it doesn't matter the form alcohol comes in, it's how much is consumed.
There was a lot of pain in my life that I just wanted to not feel for a few days.
But the smart thing, and I knew this before I took that first drink on January 19, is to talk it out. I just couldn't reach out. The ego thing, the 'attitude' thing is going to kill me. And I don't want my kid to grow up without a dad. At some point, I've got to get over this, for my son's sake.
My son and I are best buddies.
I finally did reach out to one of my friends, on January 29, I called him and told him to come over, that I needed some help. When I let him in, he saw me in this condition and was horrified, I remember the look on his face. He saw all these bottles all over the room, and was shocked, he'd never known me to drink.
My friend twice offered to take me to a hospital. I said no, but I really wanted to go to one. Detoxing from alcohol or drugs is very dangerous.
Bear in mind that on the Friday before this binge, I had no thoughts of drinking, and bear in mind that I'd gone 11 months without a drink. Then BAM! 10 days later and my body is poisoned and I feel like I'm dying.
But my friends visit cheered me up mentally, and for 3 hours I told him how I'd come to this point. Basically my life story, my rehabs, my family feuds, my dead brother, my abusive dad, my current problems, everything. A lot of how we get along physically is based on how we think mentally, and this visit was a huge boost to my mood, it helped me get better bodily.
Anyway, this was a Thursday, and to skip ahead a few days on Saturday I was well enough to go hang out that night. I cried a lot all day though, I realized some of the bullshit I said or did during the binge. Especially the friend I hurt, when I realized this my heart was broken.
Then on Sunday, hung out all day. What does 'hang out' mean? Just something I do with people like me. We kinda hang together, to get through this sort of thing...
Sunday night, well I really overdid it, I'm still sweating, shaking, detoxing; but there's just some feature of my personality that won't let me rest like a normal person, like the speedometer is always pegged.
So while my body is still working through the poison, I decide to go to the health club. I laid down at about 7:00 pm that night, after getting home, and it felt good to lay down. I had hardly slept in 4 days, since passing out from alcohol on January 27. This is another feature of detoxing, there's some adrenaline rush that kicks in for some people - like me - that keeps us from sleeping during the ordeal. Who knows, maybe this is what keeps my body from shutting down. But after laying down, I thought I still needed to do something more.
So I'm in the jacuzzi at 7:45 pm, it's very hot, feels like 150 degrees, I don't know as there was no thermometer, I stayed in for 15 minutes and stood up, and felt really weak, really dizzy. I mean REALLY WEAK. I could barely get out, and when I did, I could barely walk about 20 feet to a pool chair. I laid down on the pool chair, and covered my self up with towels, like a blanket, but I wasn't cold. I thought maybe after 15 minutes, or half hour, I'd feel better, but at 8:15 I realized something didn't feel right. I was the only guest there, and yelled over to the attendant to call a doctor. He asked what was wrong and I said I don't know but I feel really bad.
He called 911 and the ambulance came, and it's a good thing, as my blood pressure was only 70 / 30. That's barely anything there folks. I was almost dead.
And then I'm in the hospital, and somehow recovering on my own. They didn't give me any drugs or anything, but just hooked me up to some heart monitor and put me in bed, I think I was in the ICU...
I asked for an Ambien to help me sleep, it worked, first sleep in days. I had these vivid dreams all night, and talked in my sleep. The next morning, the doctor said I was hallucinating during this sleep, I can only remember some OK dreams but they seemed real. I think I may have sleep-walked, I think Ambien does this to some people.
I was in the hospital from Sunday night until Thursday afternoon. One reason for the long stay was my diabetes had my body chemistry out of whack, every 2 hours they took a blood sample and shot me with insulin. They also said my other chemistry was out of whack too, that my sodium levels were too low. Probably the detoxing from alcohol did this.
The only diagnosis I got was that I was dehydrated. I had been sick ever since New Year's Eve with a cough and virus, on top of all of that.
I'll close for now, and thank God I'm still alive to tell these tales. Yeah, my guardian angel is a GOOD one...
REHABS, A PRELUDE
I've been in rehab 6 times. That's one more time than Charlie Sheen. Unlike Charlie, I don't like to brag about it like it's some badge of honor for hard partiers. I'm kinda embarrassed in a way, in that going to rehab is an admission of weakness, although in the back of my mind I know it takes some courage to ask for help. So I'll write about these experiences. I think most people who know me have some inkling I've been in a rehab. I doubt they know it's been 6 times. I didn't even realize it was 6 times myself until I decided to count them up last month. My problem? Alcohol, pure and simple. Fortunately, I don't really like drugs, and then for 20 years I was in a job that required random drug testing.
It's interesting, I cannot take a sip of wine without going on a binge, but I can take a Vicodin, or a Zanax, and it's no big deal. Others who were in rehab couldn't live without those drugs, but could take it or leave it when it comes to alcohol. Alcohol just does something different in my body, compared to others. It makes all my problems go away, and I feel this huge pleasure rush. Biologically, what it does in my system, as with others like me, is cause this huge rush of the neurotransmitters dopamine and serotonin. I think GABA and epinephrine are also involved, but scientifically it's largely a mystery how alcohol is addictive to some people but not others.
Genetically I'm a victim of my genes, Irish and Scottish ancestry. All 4 of my great-grandfathers, both of my grandfathers, and my father, have all died from some or other cause due to alcohol. It's a huge part of the Irish-Catholic culture I grew up in. So, in a sense going to rehab made me an outcast from most of my family. Ever since I was 24 I was considered suspect at the family parties. I have a big family and they love to party. So when I showed up drinking Diet Pepsi or non-alcoholic beer, I think I made the rest feel a bit uncomfortable. The reality was I didn't care what anyone else drank, it never bothered me to drink non-alcoholic drinks while everyone else was drinking beers or mint juleps or whatever.
That's where I think it takes some courage to go to rehab. You have to be ready to become a social pariah in many cases, such as in my family. My family is very dysfunctional, by the way. What hurt the worst was my mom's attitude, she considered it a weakness. Ever since I was 24, after rehab #1 in 1988, she seemed to resent me. What's bad about that is she sat on her hands and watched my superstar little brother waste away and die at 34 of alcoholism. And, for 20 years she never tried to stop my dad from overdoing it, she just sat and watched nightly as my dad drank himself into a severe case of liver disease, which killed him. But those are other stories to tell later.
Why 6 times in rehab? Well, mostly I could never complete the whole treatment. Here's a summary:
Rehab #1, September 1988, Bellefonte Hospital, Ashland, KY: Kicked out after 2 weeks for not following the program. I told them how to run THEIR progam everyday. Didn't work.
Rehab #2, August 1989, St. Joseph Hospital, Lexington, KY: Checked in on Monday, left on Friday after I learned it wasn't covered by insurance. What's interesting about this is that afterwards I didn't drink for 4 years, just from the 'shock' value of being in there.
Rehab #3, March 2006, Ridgeview Hospital, Smyrna, GA: I actually completed 30 days in-patient and came back voluntarily for 3 weeks outpatient, and 'graduated'. It was a huge milestone in my life, although I only stayed sober for 13 months afterwards, when I got drunk at the 2007 family Easter party. But the lessons somehow sank in, and helped me in later struggles.
Rehab #4, October 2010, Ridgeview again: After staying sober on and off for 3 month spells since the 2007 relapse, eventually I just lost the battle. One day in October after the equivalent of 35 drinks, I barely made it downstairs to the kitchen and scribbled, "I need help" on a post-it note, which is how I told my wife. I went in and after a couple of weeks my ego, or 'attitude', kicked in after my mind cleared up. Anyway, there was this really pretty female patient who I started flirting with. This is a major rules violation. When the counselors got on my case about it I said, "Fuck this," and walked out. I was in there about 18 or 20 days, I forget. I stayed sober throughout November and December. On January 7, 2011 when I was taking down the Christmas tree I got depressed and got drunk. Three weeks later...
Rehab #5, January 31, 2011, Ridgeview again: My wife was furious after the relapse and left with my son. So I really drank a lot from January 7 to January 31. For some reason, she came back on that day, which was a Saturday, just to pack me up and take me back to Ridgeview. The staff in the detox unit who saw me just 3 months earlier were literally shocked to see me, especially the wasted condition I was in. There was a nurse from the previous visit who really liked me, she was horrified. I feel sorry for the staff at these places, they get attached to people like me, and see us at first succeed, only to come back again and again, looking worse each time. However, my usual doctor since 2006 summed it up, as he saw I was looking defeated at having failed. He said to me, "Don't feel bad. It's the really smart, successful people like you who sometimes have to come back 10, 11, 12 times. You scientists, lawyers, doctors can fix all these problems of the world, but you're the last to realize you can't fix yourselves. You have to admit, alcohol is more powerful, and surrender to the disease." Very wise and true words. Yeah, I finally learned, outside of rehab as I'll tell in another post, that I cannot fix myself. Anyway, I really tried hard in this stint. However, ego and attitude kicked in. Every day in group therapy, I argued with the counselor and other patients. I thought I knew better. I made it for 30 days inpatient, and then after 2 weeks outpatient, I took some Adderall which showed up on the routine drug tests we have to take in rehab. The Adderall was prescribed and I didn't think this was my addiction, I was in for alcohol. So I argued, "Hey, I need this stuff so I can pay attention in the group therapy sessions and classes." They said, "No deal, you can't take Adderall, so you have to go back to square 1, back to 30 days inpatient." I said, "Adios, amigos," and left. I stayed sober for 4 months.
Rehab #6, August 15, 2011 Some rehab place in Atlanta: I don't even remember the name of this place, it was in South Atlanta. How I got there? I visited my family and got put in jail by my brother and brother-in-law. The judge's verdict was to let me out of jail, provided I get directly out of Kentucky and into rehab in another state. The judge also said I was banned from Kentucky for 5 years. No, I didn't do anything violent other than break a window. But my brother pressed charges for threatening him and he made them stick. He's an asshole lawyer by the way. There's a long-running feud between us, which is another story. As for Rehab # 6, it was some inner-city place in Atlanta. I don't even remember the name. Most of the other patients were Blacks, and were addicted to crack. They thought I was cool though, for a rich white yuppie... Not to make light of crack addiction, but some of my best rehab buddies were Black crack addicts. A feature of rehab is they make you play sports each day, and we'd have these fun times on the basketball courts or softball fields, trash-talking each other and laughing. I was there for 2 weeks and insurance wouldn't pay for more. Bear in mind, this was the 3rd time in rehab within a year, and I think the insurance companies realize a hopeless case. But, there's always hope...
Enough for now, this is just an overview. So, I'll stop here, and tell the details in future posts.
Thank God, I am still alive, and yes there are guardian angels...
It's interesting, I cannot take a sip of wine without going on a binge, but I can take a Vicodin, or a Zanax, and it's no big deal. Others who were in rehab couldn't live without those drugs, but could take it or leave it when it comes to alcohol. Alcohol just does something different in my body, compared to others. It makes all my problems go away, and I feel this huge pleasure rush. Biologically, what it does in my system, as with others like me, is cause this huge rush of the neurotransmitters dopamine and serotonin. I think GABA and epinephrine are also involved, but scientifically it's largely a mystery how alcohol is addictive to some people but not others.
Genetically I'm a victim of my genes, Irish and Scottish ancestry. All 4 of my great-grandfathers, both of my grandfathers, and my father, have all died from some or other cause due to alcohol. It's a huge part of the Irish-Catholic culture I grew up in. So, in a sense going to rehab made me an outcast from most of my family. Ever since I was 24 I was considered suspect at the family parties. I have a big family and they love to party. So when I showed up drinking Diet Pepsi or non-alcoholic beer, I think I made the rest feel a bit uncomfortable. The reality was I didn't care what anyone else drank, it never bothered me to drink non-alcoholic drinks while everyone else was drinking beers or mint juleps or whatever.
That's where I think it takes some courage to go to rehab. You have to be ready to become a social pariah in many cases, such as in my family. My family is very dysfunctional, by the way. What hurt the worst was my mom's attitude, she considered it a weakness. Ever since I was 24, after rehab #1 in 1988, she seemed to resent me. What's bad about that is she sat on her hands and watched my superstar little brother waste away and die at 34 of alcoholism. And, for 20 years she never tried to stop my dad from overdoing it, she just sat and watched nightly as my dad drank himself into a severe case of liver disease, which killed him. But those are other stories to tell later.
Why 6 times in rehab? Well, mostly I could never complete the whole treatment. Here's a summary:
Rehab #1, September 1988, Bellefonte Hospital, Ashland, KY: Kicked out after 2 weeks for not following the program. I told them how to run THEIR progam everyday. Didn't work.
Rehab #2, August 1989, St. Joseph Hospital, Lexington, KY: Checked in on Monday, left on Friday after I learned it wasn't covered by insurance. What's interesting about this is that afterwards I didn't drink for 4 years, just from the 'shock' value of being in there.
Rehab #3, March 2006, Ridgeview Hospital, Smyrna, GA: I actually completed 30 days in-patient and came back voluntarily for 3 weeks outpatient, and 'graduated'. It was a huge milestone in my life, although I only stayed sober for 13 months afterwards, when I got drunk at the 2007 family Easter party. But the lessons somehow sank in, and helped me in later struggles.
Rehab #4, October 2010, Ridgeview again: After staying sober on and off for 3 month spells since the 2007 relapse, eventually I just lost the battle. One day in October after the equivalent of 35 drinks, I barely made it downstairs to the kitchen and scribbled, "I need help" on a post-it note, which is how I told my wife. I went in and after a couple of weeks my ego, or 'attitude', kicked in after my mind cleared up. Anyway, there was this really pretty female patient who I started flirting with. This is a major rules violation. When the counselors got on my case about it I said, "Fuck this," and walked out. I was in there about 18 or 20 days, I forget. I stayed sober throughout November and December. On January 7, 2011 when I was taking down the Christmas tree I got depressed and got drunk. Three weeks later...
Rehab #5, January 31, 2011, Ridgeview again: My wife was furious after the relapse and left with my son. So I really drank a lot from January 7 to January 31. For some reason, she came back on that day, which was a Saturday, just to pack me up and take me back to Ridgeview. The staff in the detox unit who saw me just 3 months earlier were literally shocked to see me, especially the wasted condition I was in. There was a nurse from the previous visit who really liked me, she was horrified. I feel sorry for the staff at these places, they get attached to people like me, and see us at first succeed, only to come back again and again, looking worse each time. However, my usual doctor since 2006 summed it up, as he saw I was looking defeated at having failed. He said to me, "Don't feel bad. It's the really smart, successful people like you who sometimes have to come back 10, 11, 12 times. You scientists, lawyers, doctors can fix all these problems of the world, but you're the last to realize you can't fix yourselves. You have to admit, alcohol is more powerful, and surrender to the disease." Very wise and true words. Yeah, I finally learned, outside of rehab as I'll tell in another post, that I cannot fix myself. Anyway, I really tried hard in this stint. However, ego and attitude kicked in. Every day in group therapy, I argued with the counselor and other patients. I thought I knew better. I made it for 30 days inpatient, and then after 2 weeks outpatient, I took some Adderall which showed up on the routine drug tests we have to take in rehab. The Adderall was prescribed and I didn't think this was my addiction, I was in for alcohol. So I argued, "Hey, I need this stuff so I can pay attention in the group therapy sessions and classes." They said, "No deal, you can't take Adderall, so you have to go back to square 1, back to 30 days inpatient." I said, "Adios, amigos," and left. I stayed sober for 4 months.
Rehab #6, August 15, 2011 Some rehab place in Atlanta: I don't even remember the name of this place, it was in South Atlanta. How I got there? I visited my family and got put in jail by my brother and brother-in-law. The judge's verdict was to let me out of jail, provided I get directly out of Kentucky and into rehab in another state. The judge also said I was banned from Kentucky for 5 years. No, I didn't do anything violent other than break a window. But my brother pressed charges for threatening him and he made them stick. He's an asshole lawyer by the way. There's a long-running feud between us, which is another story. As for Rehab # 6, it was some inner-city place in Atlanta. I don't even remember the name. Most of the other patients were Blacks, and were addicted to crack. They thought I was cool though, for a rich white yuppie... Not to make light of crack addiction, but some of my best rehab buddies were Black crack addicts. A feature of rehab is they make you play sports each day, and we'd have these fun times on the basketball courts or softball fields, trash-talking each other and laughing. I was there for 2 weeks and insurance wouldn't pay for more. Bear in mind, this was the 3rd time in rehab within a year, and I think the insurance companies realize a hopeless case. But, there's always hope...
Enough for now, this is just an overview. So, I'll stop here, and tell the details in future posts.
Thank God, I am still alive, and yes there are guardian angels...
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
WORTH IT?
Each morning I kneel and pray, and say thanks Father, for my little boy. Of course. And then, I ask him to bless my detractors: my son's mom, coworkers who make work a pain and not fun. And I ask for guidance to be a good manager, and I thank God for my employees, one in particular ;) and I say thank you Father for my job, and for my health. Even when work sucks, and I've had a cold for a week. Yeh, I'm grateful these days to have a job, and to only have a cold...
Work isn't fun, like it used to be. It's really not worth it, but would doubling my pay, like I'm gonna request, make it suck less? Probably not but there's the good I can do with the additional money. Yeh, I can give it away. I have most of what I need. And I thank God for that too. Sometimes I tell myself I don't like money, sometimes I believe this, and now I think it's true, but yeh money is useful.
I live now only for my son, my little buddy and my best friend, and it's so hard to wonder what he's thinking now. I haven't spoken with him in 3 months? I don't know the last time we talked? It's the worst pain a dad can feel, or any parent can feel, wondering where their little son or daughter is and are they ok, and especially are they they thinking, "Dad doesn't care about me that's why he never calls or texts." I just sent his mom a text, simple question asking, "When can I talk to my son?" Probably no reply again. I just checked skype, he's not online.
So I just wonder, here alone, is this worth it? And I wonder why. And I never wonder, really, did God hear my prayers, but I wonder why nothing happens.
And is it worth it, after all, to simply try to do my job as best as I could?
When it causes friends to become former friends, a brother to become an enemy, and loyal employees no longer loyal?
I'm thankful at least tonight I'll sleep, since I didn't sleep last night.
And what will tomorrow morning bring, more of the same? and I wonder really what BS I'll have to deal with tomorrow.
I think God says for me to move on, I've done my best and be proud of that. He said today, "It's not worth it, it's just a job."
And knowing that, I feel relieved.
It's just a job, it's not worth it.
Work isn't fun, like it used to be. It's really not worth it, but would doubling my pay, like I'm gonna request, make it suck less? Probably not but there's the good I can do with the additional money. Yeh, I can give it away. I have most of what I need. And I thank God for that too. Sometimes I tell myself I don't like money, sometimes I believe this, and now I think it's true, but yeh money is useful.
I live now only for my son, my little buddy and my best friend, and it's so hard to wonder what he's thinking now. I haven't spoken with him in 3 months? I don't know the last time we talked? It's the worst pain a dad can feel, or any parent can feel, wondering where their little son or daughter is and are they ok, and especially are they they thinking, "Dad doesn't care about me that's why he never calls or texts." I just sent his mom a text, simple question asking, "When can I talk to my son?" Probably no reply again. I just checked skype, he's not online.
So I just wonder, here alone, is this worth it? And I wonder why. And I never wonder, really, did God hear my prayers, but I wonder why nothing happens.
And is it worth it, after all, to simply try to do my job as best as I could?
When it causes friends to become former friends, a brother to become an enemy, and loyal employees no longer loyal?
I'm thankful at least tonight I'll sleep, since I didn't sleep last night.
And what will tomorrow morning bring, more of the same? and I wonder really what BS I'll have to deal with tomorrow.
I think God says for me to move on, I've done my best and be proud of that. He said today, "It's not worth it, it's just a job."
And knowing that, I feel relieved.
It's just a job, it's not worth it.
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