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| A quick webcam shot of the backyard, where I almost lived. |
"You can only help people who want to be helped."
I cannot think of any situation where this saying is more applicable, than in the case of substance abuse.
My new "boss" and her husband are substance abusers. I knew that when I signed up to move into their house to assist in the lady's cleaning business and drive her around.
I also know her husband is rip-shit mad at her for losing their son, which could work out, if they would stop drinking so much and cut down on the gambling.
Still, I moved in. I sat with them for hours at night, while they drank, and I tried to talk some sense into them.
As my good friend, Amy Lee Coy says, "You cannot compete with substances."
This is so true, but I have a bleeding heart for abusers, so I tried to counsel them.
They are getting along better, but substances do as substance does.
They lied to me.
I had an appointment this morning to get my N.C. license. Husband and wife had to work, so they made arrangements for their friend to give me a ride. I planned to go. I need my license because mine has expired.
They need a driver.
The master plan came out last night, as we sat in their back yard.
Per usual, they were drinking, while they both began to tell me what they thought I ought to do, since the bills are due on Saturday.
Apparently, they expected me to pay rent, which they surprised me with after I moved in. When I explained I have no money, the wife said I would be able to work off the three hundred dollar, all inclusive rent they wanted, find a job, then pay cash in October.
Even though I wasn't drinking when we discussed the original terms, I had no idea the booze was talking to me.
It all sounded so great. I would get my license, use her car to look for a job, while I made sure she got to work and helped when she needed me to clean. She said she would pay me ten dollars an hour to work for her, since she had more work than she could manage by herself.
I felt proud that I am willing to clean toilets for so little money.
Last night I found out she barely makes enough to cover her drinking habit, let alone an employee.
Turns out the couple had a plan to help me get work in the gas station up the street, which pays seven bucks an hour. I would be lucky to clear four hundred and eighty dollars a month. With a three hundred dollar rent bill, that won't be enough.
Of course, I was not pleased with their suggestion.
According to what they wanted, I would be a driver and baby sitter who would work for minimum wage to be turned over to them for nothing more than drunken company.
He said I need to get down off my high horse.
If he only knew how much I truly have...
Um, not gonna work.
I don't get drunk.
I don't subject myself to drunks.
Somehow, I thought I could help them.
They don't want my help!
ONTO PLAN B...
'Till Friday,
P.S. Today is my Dad's 65th birthday. It's gotta suck to find your 40 year old daughter in such a mess. I'm so sorry, Dad. Thank you for being here for me. I swear, I am doing the very best that I can. I truly appreciate all of your help. With Love, Hugs and a promise, next year will be much better. Happy Birthday. I love you.
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