Sometimes Salvation

2003 - I was still working security at the casino and doing well... that is I was doing well until another power shift guard made it to 3rd shift. Apparently he was upset with me because he was 'supposed' to be the next in line to leave power shift but I got out before him because of all the drama that had gone down. You'd think he would have been happy that he was finally out, but no... He was harboring a grudge and determined to make my life miserable because of it. Suddenly my work environment was hostile again. I was good at my job and my supervisors liked me, but grumpy guy was doing everything he could to try and make me look bad. One night I was assigned to relief duty - my job was to give the post guards their breaks. At the beginning of the shift I went around and asked all of them what time they wanted their lunch break and if the time they wanted was already taken, they had to choose a different one. That night, grumpy said he wanted 5am. I told him he would have to choose another time because someone else already had a 5am break. I told him 5:15 and 5:30 were still available. He grumbled about it and finally settled on 5:15.

So at 5am I was giving another guard their break when I received a call on the radio from a supervisor demanding to know my location. I told him where I was and he said to see him at post 4 when the guard returned to their post. At 5:15 I went over to post 4 (which was where grumpy guard was supposed to be - but he wasn't there) and the supervisor was angrily asking me why I was late to relieve grumpy guy. I explained that I wasn't late - I was right on time! He said that grumpy guy had told him his break was supposed to be at 5am. I showed him my notebook and told him 'no - he wanted 5am but it was already spoken for and he was told that his choices were 5:15 or 5:30, he chose 5:15 but was unhappy about it'. He had clearly lied to the supervisor about what time his break was. The supervisor was now angry at grumpy guy and said he would have a word with him about it. When grumpy guy returned to his post, he was clearly annoyed that his little plan had blown up in his face. I tapped my notebook and reminded him that he chose 5:15, don't try that again - then I walked away to relieve the next guard.

Things continued like this for a few more weeks, he would try to make me look bad one way or another and I did my best to deflect it. After a while though, I had enough of his shit. Even though I was good at my job and he had been discredited several times in his efforts to make me look bad, the supervisors seemed unwilling or unable to put a stop to it. Then an opening became available on 1st shift and I decided to apply for it. My 3rd shift supervisors were sad to see me go, they tried to talk me out of it - but it was him or me. 3rd shift just wasn't big enough for the both of us.

I started working 1st shift, and things were once again going well. I no longer had to deal with grumpy guy and the 1st shift guards seemed to like me. My mom and my stepdad were both on 1st shift in their departments too, and I was able to have lunch with them every so often. Things were going well at work and I was happy.

My home life was a different story. My sweetie was still getting drunk and I began to dread going home. I was never sure what I was going to find when I got there. I wasn't even sure home would be there, because my sweetie would often pass out with a cigarette lit. I kept thinking that one of these days he'd accidentally burn the building down while I was away. To make matters worse, he was spending a lot of time hanging out and drinking with former roommate number 1. His drinking escalated and so did our fighting. One evening he said he was going over to former roommate #1's place and I told him that if he was getting drunk he should just stay there - I didn't want to deal with him when he was drunk. The stress was killing me.

About 2am I got a phone call from him asking if I would give him a ride home. I could tell by his voice that he was wasted, and I said no. I told him he was going to have to sleep it off there and I hung up the phone. He called back and ranted at me belligerently - I hung up again. He called again and I didn't answer the phone, I just turned the ringer off. In the morning I had 20 voice mails. I wished I hadn't checked them, but I did. They were pretty ugly. He was ranting about how I knew he was a drunk when I met him and how dare I expect him to change now. Another message and he was he was still ranting, and trying (and failing) to slam the phone down. The third message he screamed BITCH into the phone at the top of his lungs. In the background I heard former roommate #1 tell him to call me a cunt and my sweetie obediently yelled CUNT! YOU'RE JUST A FUCKING CUNT! before hanging up again. And with that, former roommate #1 became my sworn enemy. Most of the other 'messages' were simply calling me a bitch (again) or cunt or just the sound of him hanging up the phone.

Sober, my sweetie was a leader. Drunk and he became a lemming. I wanted to locate and physically harm former roommate #1. I was also sinking fast into depression.

I saved those messages. When he finally came back home, I told him I couldn't deal with it anymore. He had to get the drinking under control or we were done. He looked very sad and tried to convince me that he was unable to control his temper when he was sober. He said he loved me but was afraid I wouldn't like him anymore if he went to treatment. *sigh* This was the fallout from vapid girl. Remember her? He went to treatment at her request and she cheated on him while he was there. I learned that this bitch had actually told him that she didn't like his personality since he went to treatment and that's why she cheated on him. It was all bullshit of course - she was simply trying to justify her own lack of morals. So I played his messages back to him on speaker phone. He looked completely shocked at first - he'd clearly never heard himself when he was drunk before. Then he looked sad. I said "What's the matter? You don't remember saying this shit?" He didn't. Message after message played. He said he'd heard enough. I said "No, I don't think you have" and played all of them. I gestured toward the phone and said "Oh yeah - that guy really loves me." By the end of them, he was actually crying. Now it was my turn to be shocked. I had only ever seen him cry once before, and that was at a funeral. He said he was sorry, he begged me to forgive him. I wanted to forgive him, but it was getting harder to do. I told him he had one more chance - just one. Screw up again and you're out. Don't call my bluff.

The stress of all this was starting to follow me to work. Then one day I fucked up - and I didn't even know it. I had said the wrong thing to a day shift supervisor. It was well known that she was 'on a diet' - she wasn't keeping it a secret or anything - she was always talking about being on a diet and counting calories. Once a month we got a cake to celebrate the birthdays in our department, and I saw the dieting supervisor peaking in the cake box in anticipation. I foolishly said to her "Don't do it! Resist the temptation!" I was just joking with her, but she dropped the box lid and shot me a look... She didn't know I was joking, or she didn't care - I had offended her.

The next thing I knew, I was being assigned to post duty - every single day. Before that, I had been a 'floor guard' - which I loved. Being on the floor meant I could keep moving, I took radio calls, did escorts, the time just flew by for me. Being on post, you stood by a door. No moving around. Time stood still. Dieting supervisor assigned the guards positions. It was killing me and she knew it. It also pissed me off. There were several guards who actually preferred being on post and she knew I preferred being on the floor. I knew I was being punished for my comment to her, but she insisted that it was standard procedure to rotate the guards. Bullshit. I had been there long enough at that point to know that it wasn't - and if it was, then why was I the only one being 'rotated' in this fashion?

My depression worsened and it was impossible to put on a happy face for my job. Then another supervisor (one of her buddies) started picking at me as well. Before long I was completely miserable and began to hate my job.

To make matters even worse, I came home one evening to find my sweetie passed out on the floor again. Dammit to fucking hell! This was the final straw for me. I woke him up, I screamed at him, and then I piled him into the car and dumped him off at the house of former roommate #2. I waited for him to go inside and then I went home. The next day I got a call from him - he was at his mom's house and wanted to know if he could come home. I was completely heartbroken by that point. I said "I'm sorry, no. I just don't think this is going to work out anymore - I think we should just go our separate ways." He was crying now and asking if he went to treatment, would I let him come home - and I said I no longer knew if I could do that. He'd been to rehab before but he always relapsed. I said if he was really serious about making it work, I'd think about it - but I had my doubts and I'd already given him more than his fair share of chances.

Later that day I got another call - this time it was his mom. She said he was quite a mess. I learned that former roommate #2 was unhappy about having to let him crash on his couch the night before and when he got up for work that morning he'd told my sweetie he was not welcome to hang out there all day. He'd piled him into the truck and dumped off at his mothers house at 6am, hung over and sick as a dog. His mom was even less happy than former roommate #2 about this turn of events. I told her I was sorry, but I couldn't let him stay with me anymore - I'd had enough. She said she spent the day convincing him that he couldn't stay with her and that rehab was his best option but he wanted assurance that he'd be able to come back home if he went. I said "We'll see."

So he went to rehab. And I went back to work. I'm pretty sure we were both feeling miserable at that point. About 2 weeks later, I got a phone call at work - it was my sweetie. He wanted to know if I could bring him some things from home - socks and underwear, a few of his t-shirts, portable cd player and some cd's. I said ok, I'd bring them after work.

When I got there he was waiting outside and he looked so happy to see me. He gave me a big hug and kiss, he thanked me for bringing him the stuff from home and for putting up with his shit for all those years. He also apologized and said he owed me at least 5 years of being sober. I hugged him back and said I wanted 10.

I visited him after work a few times and we went for walks together in a park nearby. It was around this time that I had my first real argument with his mom. It was her belief that I should also attend AA meetings. I disagreed - I didn't have an alcohol problem, I didn't even drink! She was very pushy about it though and said I should go just to be supportive. I told her I was sure I could find other ways to be supportive. She was quite miffed. During one of my visits, I told my sweetie about this and asked him if he thought I should attend the meetings. He thought it was silly. He pointed out that since I didn't have a drinking problem, there was no real reason for me to go if I didn't want to. He said he'd have a word with his mom and tell her to get off my back about it. He must have done it, because she dropped the subject after that.

My relationship with my sweetie was improving, but at work I was still miserable. The dieting supervisor and her buddy continued to assign me to post, and they were actively looking for reasons to haul me into the office and write me up. My shoes were too worn - verbal warning. I replaced them. I was a minute late coming back from break - written warning. I 'looked unhappy' while on post - 3 day suspension. I started looking for a job in a different department, but I was being blackballed. The only department human resources would let me transfer to was housekeeping. I'd rather smoke webbed feet than go back there. So I was fired.

My sweeties mom said to apply for unemployment again. I told her it was pointless - no one ever won an unemployment case from the casino. Not ever. I applied anyway, and it was denied. She said to appeal, and said she'd come with as my advocate. Having worked for the unemployment office, she knew the mediators and felt her presence would be in my favor. I tried to explain to her how the casino did things, that they wouldn't just be sending 1 or 2 supervisors to contest it. There would be several people there. While helping me to put together my case, she wanted to know the names of the supervisors involved and I rattled off a list. She became angry at me and said there can't possibly be that many people involved. I insisted there was. I knew that I was going to lose whether she came with or not. She was clueless as to how they operated and didn't believe me.

On the day of my appeal I had some small vindication. She was sitting next to me in the waiting area when they arrived - all 7 of them. 6 supervisors plus 1 person from human resources. She was shocked that they would send so many people just to fight my appeal... I had tried to warn her that this was how they worked. The only thing in my favor was that they were obviously surprised that I had someone with me and that made them nervous. She sat next to me taking copious 'notes' - useless information really, but they wanted to know who she was and what was she writing down. She replied that she was simply taking notes, she was my advocate and there for moral support which I clearly needed since they sent 7 people just to dispute my claim. She offered to let them see her 'notes' and they declined. From there on out though, it was a disaster. It was my word against theirs and they were blatantly lying about my work history. In the end, they won - but she did apologize to me for under estimating them.

By this point, my sweetie had completed his rehab and I allowed him to come home. I had to apply for welfare to make ends meet, and I started looking for a new job. It had all taken its toll on me though. I had a few interviews with no success. I kept looking, but then one day out of the blue I had a monster panic attack. I was sitting in my car in the parking lot of a prospective employer and I just could not bring myself to go inside. I got tunnel vision, the world went dark, I couldn't breathe. I remember I sat there just shaking...and then I decided to just go back home. As soon as it passed I did just that. I went home, crawled into my bed and just cried into my pillow until I fell asleep.

I told my sweeties mom about it and she suggested I see a therapist. I tried to find one, I called several -  but as soon as they would find out I was on welfare they were suddenly 'not accepting new patients'. Nice. Finally I got a referral to the county run facility. By this time I was suicidal and willing to see anyone.

I was assigned a therapist and went in to see her. We spoke for an hour and then she made another appointment for the following week. When I went in for that appointment, we spoke some more and then she told me that she was leaving the facility for a job in the public school system. She referred me to another therapist. I made an appointment and went in to see therapist #2. She was sympathetic, and offered some suggestions on dealing with my panic attacks. I saw her for about 3 weeks and then one day she said she thought this other therapist could help me better. Enter therapist #3. By now I was becoming frustrated. Every time I was given a 'new' therapist, I had to start over from square one retelling my story of how I came to be there because none of them had written any of it down. Therapist #3 was of the opinion that my sweetie was the cause of all my problems and advised me to dump him. I refused. I told her that he had just completed rehab and that I wanted to give him a chance to make it work. I was unwilling to dump him now just when things were getting better between us.

In addition to the therapists, I was also seeing a psychiatrist and his nurse - mostly the nurse. It was their job to prescribe antidepressants, etc.. Every week, I'd see the therapist and then I'd have to wait around to see the psychiatric nurse who'd ask a few questions and prescribe some drugs, then the psychiatrist himself would come in and ask a few more questions and sign the script. I was prescribed so much shit, I can't even remember all of them anymore. I quickly learned that I have a low tolerance for antidepressants. The side effects were killing me. One drug made me so jittery I couldn't sleep, another left me feeling so disconnected that the house could have been on fire and I wouldn't have cared. Another made me physically sick and yet another made me sleep nonstop round the clock. The psychiatrist was growing annoyed that none of the drugs he prescribed were helping me and started suggesting stronger stuff. He suggested lithium but I shot that idea down because I was aware that it required regular blood tests and I'm terrified of needles. When he suggested electroconvulsive therapy, I said absolutely not! Then he found out that I was applying for disability and acted offended. I explained that my case worker had suggested it because it could take a while to find the right combination of drugs to help me and I wasn't getting enough money to pay my bills on welfare. I was falling behind on all of them - he didn't care. He acted like he would be personally penalized if I received disability.  

Meanwhile therapist #3 had given up on me. I wasn't willing to take her advice and dump my sweetie so she said she couldn't help me and suggested I go to group therapy instead. In my opinion it was one thing to speak with someone one on one - it was another to have to talk about my problems with a whole group of strangers. I wasn't interested and stopped going to that facility altogether. In my opinion, they failed me.

Throughout all of this, my sweetie was taking care of me. True to his word, he was staying sober but he was growing concerned about the side effects of the drugs I was prescribed. I lost months of my life to the side effects of those drugs. When I spent a whole week doing nothing but sleeping, he asked me to stop taking them. No problem sweetie...they weren't helping anyway.

One day I realized that it had been months since we fought about anything. We remembered that we loved each other and we began to enjoy spending time together again. He was my best friend and ally. He was the only antidepressant I really needed, as long as I had him I knew things would work out ok.