Bobby: got mad this morning and stormed out. He and James had an argument over cleaning the apartment. So now we have an empty bed.

Bill: No drama here. Ray called me this morning to offer him another job, laying carpet. I need to tell him about it when I see him at DAC tonight.

James: Not happy about being the "house man". I suppose that would be "Proctor" to you Sewanee-ites. He now feels it's his job to clean the entire apartment if no one else does their job.

Kenny: His usual ADD hyper self.

Charles: Mother still in the hospital on life support. He and his brother have to decide whether to pull the plug. He's been staying with his family. We haven't heard from him in a couple days. We all fear the worst.

Gino: Still sleeping on the floor in the dining room, but I would guess that he can now move into Bobby's bed.

Me: Start new job on Monday. Got a call from a survey company that I signed up with ages ago to ask if I wanted to do a "beverage survey". They asked me some questions about coffee and soda and signed me up to go to a discussion ("focus group") on the 21st. $75 for one hour isn't too bad.

Peace Baptist Church employs two residents of David's Den to do custodial work at the church. In return, they pay the service fees of $100 weekly that we owe to David's Den. From the time that I entered the program until now, these two positions have been filled by Jerry and Pat, both of whom are getting ready to leave the program. Jerry was out of town this past weekend, and asked me to fill in for him, so I went to the church on Tuesday and he showed me the ropes. This not only in order to fill in for him this past weekend, but also by way of training me, since I'm next in line for this position. I performed the job on Thursday. Then, on Saturday, Pat showed me his job (same job, different part of church) which is, I think, the job I'll actually be taking on. Easy work. Tedious, but at least it pays my rent. Now I just have to find a real job so that I can have some cash on hand.

In recovery, we tend to have what people call "using dreams", which are exactly what the name implies. They've changed over the months since I've been in the program. They started out as dreams about me trying to sneak alcohol into my apartment. Then they evolved into me accidentally taking a drink, then remembering that I wasn't supposed to. This one last night was a new one:

I was at Sewanee, for some alumni function or other. I was at a party, I think at my fraternity house, and a friend of mine was there. This was the daughter of a professor who was the faculty advisor for the sorority that I hung out with at Sewanee. Everyone at the party was drinking, and most were drunk, except me, since I wasn't drinking. My friend asked me to dance with her. I felt a bit out of sorts, but got up to dance, telling her that I didn't normally dance unless I'd been drinking. She offered me a beer. "Have one. Just one. One won't hurt you!" I took it and drank about half of it. It's effects were not only immediate, but potent, since I hadn't had a drink in almost nine months. I tried to speak to a group of people, about an idea that I had, but found it difficult to focus because of the alcohol. "Sorry. I've had half a beer after not drinking for nine months and I'm a little tipsy." Someone who is in the program at DAC with me stood up and said, "And you're going to tell everyone in group on Monday, right?" Then I realized what I'd done. Not only that I would have to confess what I'd done, but that I'd have to start all over again, pick up another white chip at a meeting, etc. I tried to call my sponsor, but couldn't get her on the phone.

I woke up from this dream, my heart beating wildly. Its effects stayed with me for quite a while after waking.  

My schedule at DAC has changed a bit. Instead of the MWF from 6 - 9, I am now scheduled only from 6-7:30. This is part of a restructuring that the program is undergoing. I am not complaining about an hour and a half extra time of my own. Paul, my councelor, had figured that Wednesdays could be used for those who were close to presenting their first steps to work on their first steps. Susan called in yesterday and said she couldn't make it. So it was just Paul and I. We went over my first step.

The main problem I'm having with it, is expressing emotion. Something I've never done very well. Last night, I eventually came to the realization that I minimalize the importance of certain events as a survival mechanism. This has brought to light my feelings about my mother, as in what exactly are they?

I've always discounted the event in my life when I was four years old. My mother and I moved in with my grandparents. (We had been living with my stepfather, but he and my mother separated). My mother went into a residential rehab program, and my grandparents claimed custody of me. I lived with them until I was old enough to move out on my own (after college). My mother was around, but I saw her infrequently. I do remember being excited whenever I knew she was going to be coming over. And every now and then I was allowed to stay the weekend with her (and boyfriend du jour). I've always minimalized my attachment to her, though. I placed my grandmother in the position of "mother" and relegated mom to a sort of "aunt", when I don't think this was really the case.

When I was about 8 years old or so, my mother couldn't be there for my birthday. I was saddened by this. She left me a note on a small piece of paper, which I cherished above all the other gifts I got that year. I kept it:

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I'm trying to paste a copy of it from flickr, but I've been having touble with flickr lately.

Anyway. It's difficult for me to identify my feelings currently, let alone dredge up feelings I never knew I had when I was a child. 

So this weekend, Bill "went out". He showed up around 10:00 Saturday morning. It was decided that the other residents of David's Den would be given the vote as to whether or not he stays. This is new. We've never been given decision making power before.

Yesterday morning, after devotion and a brief discussion of Bill, we decide that he stays. Hopefully, things will work out. After that, I went to my doctor's appointment with Doctor Harrison, one of the psychiatrists at DAC. My primary purpose in doing this is to get a renewal of my prescription for Zoloft, which everyone keeps telling me I need. Except the doctor. She seems to think I don't need it, but that "it won't do any harm".

I drop off the prescription at the pharmacist. Later, I go to pick it up. This is what happens.

Pharmacist: I'm gonna need you to fill out the application for Zoloft because we're giving you the name brand instead of the generic.
Me: Okay.
Pharmacist: Yeah...we're giving you someone else's supply. Do you have your tax return available?
Me: Uh...no. I have my W-2's, though.
Pharmacist: We're gonna need those, too.

At the DAC pharmacy, they give you a bill, you pay it at the cash register, then you take the receipt back to the pharmacist. I go over to do this, presenting my bill for $4.83 along with a $20 bill.

Cashier: Do you have anything smaller?
Me: No.
Cashier: (sighs) Do you have a debit card?
Me: (pausing to think of what to say) I really don't want to use it.

Cashier looks at me as if I've just spoken Swahili to her. We stand there for a few seconds before I reluctantly reach for my wallet to take out my debit card. I pay for the prescription and return to the pharmacy window.

Pharmacist: Do you have your W-2's?
Me: Yes, they're right here.
Pharmacist: They wouldn't make copies for you?
Me: (a bit confused) who?
Pharmacist: (pointing at cashier window) Them.
Me: I didn't ask.

Eventually, the copies are made and left at the window of the pharmacist, where anyone could just walk up and take my W-2's home with them. I hope nothing bad comes of this.

  I guess. At David's Den.

Last night, I come home from DAC, and realize that Bill is not there. "Where is Bill?" I ask. "He went to Grady today," was the reply. Grady. I've never had to go there, but I've heard stories of waiting for hours upon hours at Grady Hospital. God, keep me from injury.

This morning, Bill is still not there. All of his stuff, which he had in storage, is there now, but not him. He arrives around 10:00 this morning, and Pat, our "house man" allows him in. They talk. I ask Bill if he's okay. He shakes his head, no. I suppose he "went out" last night (relapse). I'm assuming I'll hear the full story later today.

And, in other news, one of the cats is dead. There were two rather small cats (I'm guessing just up from kitten status) who lived outside here, near our apartment. Various people in the building would put food out for them. One was black, with a white bib and paws. I call him Midnight Jr. because he reminds me of the cat that was (and still is) at the old place. The Siamese is dead now. I passed him/her on the way out of the complex, lying in the middle of the road. I never gave her/him a name.

The guys in David's Den with me attend Peace  Baptist Church. I think this is mainly because a) this is the church that runs the program b) church is required and c) they have no church of their own. I attended for the first 8 weeks of my stay at David's Den. A much different experience than what I'm used to, but interesting nonetheless.

Their pastor has requested that they "fast" for forty days from various different things. They have some sort of schedule that explains what they're fasting from each of these forty days. Today, I think it's food (from 6am to 6pm) and liquids other than water. Sometime in the near future, it's television (which they think is 24 hours, rather than the daylight hours - they need to check).

Oddly, this "fasting" coincides with my giving up of meat for Lent. I usually give up alcohol, but, well, that's already a given at this point. And for the past few years, I never made it through Lent with no alcohol.

Having no knowledge of the liturgical calendar, I find it mildly amusing that they're actually observing Lent - without their actually realizing it. I've started calling their church "Baptist Catholic". (I've told them that I'm not Roman Catholic, but they don't seem to be able to remember that fact and constantly refer to me as such). I also find it interesting that most of their fasting only takes place during the daylight hours. As if we were in Ramadan. Perhaps they're Baptist Catholic Islam.  

Well, I met with my counselor last night at DAC. The program is undergoing structural changes and I'm part of that (or, rather, I guess, simply effected by it). Monday I begin a new schedule: 6pm to 7:30pm, rather than the entire 6 to 9 Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Whatever will I do with that extra hour and a half in my day? I've submitted my second draft of my first step to my counselor, and I've a feeling that I'll be soon presenting it in group. Once I've done that,  I will go to "after care" schedule, which will only be Mondays and Fridays. This is potentially good news, but the part I'm not looking forward to is that once I no longer have DAC on Wednesdays, I would like to go back to choir rehearsals, but will probably be required to attend Bible study at Peace Baptist Church. If only I could find a job, I might be able to move out of David's Den. I have a friend who might be looking for a roommate, to cut his costs. Alas, the job search continues...

Well, I have another interview tomorrow morning. I've been through two telephone interviews and all of the applications process online, and this is finally a face-to-face interview. Today, I'm going to the airport to see if the place is accessible by MARTA. Which I don't think it is. The Delta offices appear to be NEAR, but not AT, the airport. And it doesn't look like any buses go by there. I might have to borrow a friend's car. Hopefully, I can get in touch with her tonight.

My storage continues to be a problem. I managed to borrow the money for January, but now February is due. I moved about half of my stuff out and into a friend's basement, but they seemed a bit taken aback by how much stuff I had. People don't seem to realize that I have enough belongings to fill a two-bedroom apartment. I wasn't a transient up until recently. What do people think? I did manage to find another friend who said I could use his basement for the other half, but he's incredibly hard to get in touch with. I did manage to file my taxes yesterday, so hopefully this will help for February.

Well, this past week, one of my housemates, Carey, announced that he was leaving to go back to Chicago to be with his mother. No problems there, we all wished him well. He was supposed to have left Saturday afternoon. The bus, he said, was due to leave at around 2:00pm.

Saturday evening rolls around and, although Carey has packed all of his belongings, they are still sitting in his room. Carey is not around. Surely, he has not left without his possessions. Nobody knows what's going on. A little after midnight, Pat comes into my room and wakes me up so that I can change the pass code on the lock (because I'm apparently the only one who knows how to do this - I don't know). Carey has not returned and it is now after curfew.

Sunday morning, I leave for church. Arriving at the bus stop (the first bus passes by around 6:15am) I find Carey there. His sponsor was providing the money for the bus ticket. No go, for some reason. Then he was going to move in with his sponsor. Again, no go - something to do with his sponsor's roommate not moving out when he was supposed to or something. Carey spent most of the night at the Waffle House down the street, drinking coffee, he said. He looked horrible. He was waiting for the bus, although it's quite a long walk from where we were standing to the Waffle House. Not sure what the story was there. I told him that everyone was still at home, and he should go and get his stuff, or at least get out of the cold.

I think he finally went to get his stuff yesterday afternoon. I hope he's okay.