Journal

I had my last cigarette on Sunday night at about 10:00, so that’s the official time. For a while, I’m keeping track of the elapsed time since I last drugged. I had my last everything else at different times on Friday and Saturday, but the only one that counts is the last last one, so that’s where we start the clock.

I didn’t have much of a chance of fill you in yesterday. I’m detoxing, Danger-Boy’s program went to hell in a handbasket, and it just got better from there.

I picked him up at Debbie’s at 7:30, got to Park-Ridge at 8:15 after a detour to the store to buy a hairbrush. I got to work at about 9:00, cried most of the way in. At about 9:20, he called with the news that he wasn’t being admitted.

The cell phone picked yesterday morning to go on the fritz. I’m on Frontier’s CDMA Digital cellular service. Every time I dialed, I got a recording from Cellular One’s analog (traditional) cellular service asking for a credit card number. So I stopped home to make a few phone calls on the way to Park-Ridge.

At Park-Ridge, I made the intake counselor explain to me the reasons Danger-Boy wasn’t being admitted. Danger-Boy took this as a lack of trust. Sorry pal, but everyone’s going to ask if I got verification from Park-Ridge, so I have to be able to tell them, "Yes."

We went from there to Frontier Cellular, (it was a system problem, not my phone), then to DSS. After waiting less than an hour, Danger-Boy got to speak with someone (his caseworker is on vacation) who said his benefits case had been closed as of May 31, 1998 and the only choice available to him was to re-file. He got an appointment for next Monday.

The afternoon was far too interesting for words.

We had made arrangements for Mark to take us over to The Bill and Bob Center, (the main AA center) to meet with Dave. Dave is very good at what he does. In just minutes he had gotten to the heart of the matter, which is this:

This is Danger-Boy’s sixth attempt at rehab. The longest time he has been sober outside of any institutionalization is two weeks. As with all the other times, there is an external motivation driving him to rehab. In this case it’s three outstanding warrants in Monroe County. He figures if he addresses those issues while in rehab, he can get off easier. He refuses to accept any help on an outpatient basis.

Dave, Mark and I reached the same conclusion. Danger-Boy has been in jail over half a dozen times, and he’s been to rehab five times. None of this has worked for him in the past because he has not changed his attitude towards drugging.

He must admit that his addiction is his own problem and is not caused by external factors. Further, he must be willing to accept help unconditionally. Until then, putting him in any program at this time just wastes everyone’s time and a bunch of money.

This leaves me in a very difficult position. In order to protect my recovery, I can’t be around anyone who is actively drugging. Danger-Boy is actively drugging. Therefore, I can’t be around Danger-Boy.

I would love to help him, but if he is unwilling to accept help, I can’t help him.

He has to go. L

Amazingly, quitting smoking has been a lot easier so far this time. The only times it gets really bad is that "first thing in the morning before breakfast" smoke, and the "in the car on the way home" one.

I had forgotten about one of the effects of nicotine withdrawal. Confusion. I’ve spent the past several days in a near constant state of confusion. I can’t follow any abstractions, and have been befuddled by things as simple as the new faucet the landlord put in my bathroom. Making dinner last night was a real exercise. In fact, in the mornings, the difference between "toast" and "sandwich" has given me trouble. Things seem a little clearer today though. At least I didn’t put mustard on my toast. We’ll see if it lasts.

Lots of people ask me if I’m using a patch or gum. Nope. Cold-turkey. My reasoning is this: At some point you have to give it up and go through withdrawal. The patch or gum method only prolongs the agony as you move from higher doses to lower ones and just postpones the inevitable.

By the end of the week, I should be through the worst of the physical withdrawal, although some symptoms persist for up to eight weeks, and it can take months before you feel well. I think what is making it easier this time is that except for the first month or two after I resumed smoking, I didn’t smoke for psychological reasons, only the physical addiction. My strategy was to get my head in the right place and my life somewhat under control before quitting. So far, so good.

Willie came over last night. He’s got trouble. The job he had lined up for after graduation was for 12 months, and the US government only saw fit to give him a six-month work visa. So the job fell through and he’s either got to find another job, or move back to Nicaragua by the end of the month. He’s sad and frightened. Going back to Nicaragua means going back in the closet. I don’t know anyone who has managed that, let alone wanted to.

I pointed out to him that just because he has to leave the US, doesn’t mean he has to go to Nicaragua. He’s done work for Nortel, which is based in Toronto, only three hours drive from here. So he’s thinking about going to Toronto to look for work. Meanwhile, I called Tek Systems this morning to see what they may have for him. Willie’s degree and skill set would put him with the Maxim Group, a different division of Aerotek, but I’d still get the referral fee if they have anything. And boy could I use the money!

I’m really not sure what to do with Danger-Boyery. He’s off crack completely, although that would probably have happened anyway because the city raided all the crack houses yesterday. He is drinking and smoking pot though. On the other hand, he respects my choices and doesn’t use in my presence.

His three biggest issues are these: 1) He doesn’t seem to know what to do with unstructured time, 2) He doesn’t know how to handle money, 3) Although he is extremely intelligent and has an ego the size of Montana, he has little self-esteem.

He went job hunting yesterday and landed an interview this afternoon. That could take care of at least 40 hours a week of time. We can work out something with the rest. Mark has suggested a way to teach him how to manage money. This method worked for Jack, another crack cross-addicted guy that Mark sponsored two years ago. Danger-Boy likes the idea, so we’ll probably do something similar.

What they did was this. They set up a joint-checking account that requires two signatures on each check, and has no ATM card. Jack deposited everything except an agreed amount. This he gave to Mark who portioned it out to him daily. As bills came in, they paid them together. After a while, Jack was able to budget his cash for the week without Mark portioning it out to him. Eventually, Jack was able to manage the all his income and bills by himself. Two years later, he’s now got a house, a car and everything. And he’s still clean and sober.

Getting a job, learning to handle money and learning how to accept trust, all will help out on the self-esteem side of things. He’s still fun to have around, and I’m still learning from him. With the exception of drinking and smoking pot, he’s quite responsible and has high standards of behavior.

I really don’t know what to do. It would be a shame to turn him out at this point. He’s off the streets, isn’t stealing, isn’t prostituting, and he’s falling into a regular daytime schedule nicely. We were in bed by 8:30 last night, and he was out like a light by 9:00.

It’s true that rehab hasn’t worked for him in the past. Could it be because rehab only tells you what to, not how to do it? I had the same problem with quitting smoking before. Yeah all you gotta do is stop smoking. But how do you do that? That was my complaint the first time. I kept telling them, "I know what to do. I’m paying you to show me how to do it." Once that sunk in, everything went okay.

I’m hoping it’ll work that way with Danger-Boy. He’s already taking to a more normal schedule, he’s actively seeking work, and wants to learn. Maybe he’ll figure out how to live life drug-free. I did it for over five years, and I’ll do it again.

Anyway, Danger-Boy’s all bent out of shape because Debbie has disappeared. He hasn’t seen her since I picked him up Monday morning. No one’s seen or heard from her. He’s just about out of his tree worrying. It seems weird. She’s always so abusive to him, now she’s gone and he’s worried about her. The cycle of abuse certainly is interesting.

He certainly isn’t being abused at my place. Unless you count my bed. He’s given up on it and sleeps on the floor. Tuesday night at lights-out he chanted, "Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite." And without missing a beat, "Fuck! You don’t have to worry about bedbugs. That thing’s too damned uncomfortable. I’ve slept on the bare concrete floor in jail and I’d do that again before I’d get back in that bed." Hmmm. Maybe that’s why I can’t get a boyfriend. J

Oh, and Debbie called.  She checked herself into the hospital for a few days.   A load off his mind.  Another worry on mine.

Of course I was zonked right out. He’d come in, turned on some lights, put stuff in the fridge, gone to the bathroom, and yours truly slept on. Then I felt his gaze, and woke right up to find him at the foot of the bed grinning. He said, "Man, you could sleep through a herd of elephants!" I replied, "Well I think the smell would wake me up." J

Since Sunday he’s gone from depressed and dejected to excited and looking forward to the future. What a transformation! He enjoys the job, but admits it’ll take some getting used to taking orders from someone 12 years younger. (I got over it pretty quick on the last contract.) He’s thinking about us getting a larger apartment together and everything.

Bad points? Hmmm. Well the apartment is small for one. When there’s two, it’s almost claustrophobic. The mornings are interesting because I have to keep stepping over him while he sleeps. I’m used to cranking the stereo first thing in the morning too. I miss my cell phone, even though I hardly ever use it. I guess what I miss most about it is that’s where I keep all my phone numbers. Almost everyone I know is unlisted so that’s a major handicap.

We really only have one major point of conflict. That’s the stereo. I like a nice fat bass with plenty of punch, easy on the midrange, and transparent crisp highs. He likes it easy on the bass, plenty of midrange, and shrill highs. The equalizer on the stereo at home is flexible enough that we can generally work out a compromise, but in the car, forget it!

A little later …

I just had to get out for a while. As I suspected, sitting here writing is the worst for me as far as not smoking goes. And, this morning I found a pack I’d stashed. I thought I’d already gotten rid of them all.

Sometimes it’s fun at work being the token fag. For instance, this afternoon Rob and I were discussing a user who is being an enormous pain:

Rob: "Fill in the blank. He’s a flaming …" (expecting me to say idiot or asshole.)

Bruce: "Queen?"

Rob: [Howls of laughter]