If there has ever truly been a time when there was a tug of war between my self-control and my desire to be completely obliterated it is now. I cannot remember another point when my emotions and my desire to drink were so completely connected before, and I was so aware of it. I can understand now why people actually do fail. Thank God my life isn’t always like this.
My boss is being pressured by the executive committee to fire me. The rent is due, my car needs brakes and winter tires, my propane tank is closer to empty than not, and my boss might have to fire me. I’ve finally managed to turn my credit around, to establish a sense of stability and grounding and my boss might fire me. After a year and a half off the wagon, I just hopped back on two months ago and I might get fired.
Oh yeah, I want a drink. A bottle of red wine to be precise. Two.
My sister announced the other day that she “might want to, but doesn’t have to”. She’s right, I’m drinking water. Her statement was followed with “I’m free!” I’m undecided.
Through an unusual set of circumstances, my boss was told that I have a warrant for my arrest in the city of Dallas for a DUI that happened in 2006, and that I would be resolving the situation in February. The executive committee said to fire me.
In all fairness, it’s not that I love my job. Most days, in fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s not where I want to be and it’s not what I want to be doing. Still, I like the pay and I love the health insurance. I like bringing my dog to work and walking around in my socks. I like feeling stable.
I don’t like feeling that even when I’m doing everything “right”, I still can’t outlive my past and the person I used to be. I don’t like having that feeling I used to have right before everything fell to the ground again. I have to wonder when I will be through with the mistakes I made in Dallas, and if I’m just going to keep making mistakes?
The internal optimist cheerily asserts that this might be a blessing in disguise, with a bit of free time and focus I can find a job doing something I’m more suited to, that I’ll be happier at. I remind her that there are very few jobs available in this economically depressed area, and even fewer good jobs that don’t require degrees and that I don’t have a savings account.. She’s certain things will work out and points out good-naturedly that at least I have a job at the mini-mart. I remind her that I hate that job. She, growing tired of my arguments, insists that things are going to be fine, that they always are, and that I should really just cheer up. I roll my eyes and tell her, in no uncertain terms, that the American dream is a myth, that if my life is going to fall to pieces anyway, I might as well be high and that, at least then, I knew why my life was falling to pieces. She sighs, and we drink another glass of water.
I’m undecided. So is my boss apparently. He told the executive committee that he had to “process this”.
In the meantime, I’ve got to go spend some of this Saturday at the office to beat a few deadlines. After that I’ve got a shift at the Sunoco. She wants me to point out that the fire is warm and I’ve got enough wood for the winter. I don’t feel like that’s relevant.
She wins every time.
