“Your house is so clean,” He told me as he walked in. “That is a good indicator that you are doing well.”
When my mental illness strikes, my house will turn into a disaster area. It is a direct barometer of my mental health.
“Let’s go for a ride out Spring Road and just talk,” Dad said.
We got in his car and headed out that dark country road. A heavy fog had rolled in and it looked like a spooky scene out of a Stephen King novel.
“Dad, do you think I can get a part time job again?” I asked.
I could see the tension build in his face.
“You worked for years and just couldn’t take all that shit,” He said. “You are like your mother. She can’t take it as well.”
“It just makes me feel worthless sometimes not being able to support myself fully.”
“What’s number one?” Dad asked me.
“What do you mean?”
“Your number one priority is staying mentally healthy and sober,” He replied. “Without those things everything else is meaningless. You just concentrate on doing those two things.”
“I know,” I said kind of sullenly. “I just get tired of living on so little. I just thought it would help my self worth to work a simple job.”
“Let’s see how you do in the next few months and we will see,” Dad said. “I may need you to start working down at the pharmacy again. We will have to get you a pharmacy tech’s license though.”
I thanked my father for the offer. It gave me a glimpse of hope for the future. I really would like to have a small part time job these days. I will just have to wait and see what the future brings.