A little part of it in everyone

I am an addict.

Have been for 10 or so years now.

 

Rather than track marks or makeshift crack pipes hidden away, you will find non-slip sensible shoes and a wide variety of black pants and aprons tucked into the dark recesses of my apartment.

 

My name is Mel and I’m a recovering server.

It started innocently enough. Just something to do in the summers to make a bit of money. Those heady days of walking home with $40 at the end of a shift, covered in ice-cream and reeking of fish and chips- I thought I had it made.

 

Little did I know this was my gateway drug.

The summer I turned 19 I got a taste of the hard stuff and it was good. Suddenly I was working at the place everybody wanted to be. Where they went to see and be seen. We had a chef, not a cook and it was all washed down with that magical elixir- alcohol. Walking home nearly every day with a tidy triple digit sum in my pocket felt pretty good. Oh sure, I can stop. And I did. Went back to school. Went out with friends on the weekends. Did my homework. Got plenty of rest.

Then it all changed the summer I moved back to Halifax. After briefly dabbling again for a time, I got hooked. Hard.

250 seat waterfront restaurant? A strong American dollar? Low gas prices? There was a never-ending flow of cash.

Once winter hit, there wasn’t enough to keep me going. I delved deeper. I became a bartender.

Bass thumping, shaking cocktails, I lacked sleep but was on a first name basis with my contemporaries at other establishments. I worked at the hottest venue in town for a time. I lived to see the sun rise before crashing into bed.

Suddenly serving was taking over my life. I used to be so studious. I used to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Not anymore.

Sunny days, concerts, outings with friends, none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was work and making those fat dollars.

Eventually, I went away for three months. Went to see the world. Hung up the apron. Who was I fooling? We ended up sitting after hours with bartenders in every city we visited. Even across the ocean it was impossible to kick the habit.

When I got home I sank back into it. But my heart wasn’t there. I was getting tired, cranky, bitter and jaded.

I applied to school and got in. I put in my notice. Kicked the habit. Or so I thought.

 

I lasted 2 weeks before going back to my old job. But just on the weekends. And only one night. Just a quick little shift for some extra cash. No big deal. 1 shift turned into 2 a week and suddenly I was slipping back into old ways again.

Then it was back to full time. Only this time,  my shoes had holes in them, my wrists and joints creaked at every movement and late nights were a hassle more than anything exciting. The lifestyle was taking its toll. I knew in my heart and soul that I needed to stop. To make a change, a clean break.  Opportunity came and I left- abruptly and without ceremony.

But I slipped. Went back for the fix. But then the work dried up and I knew it was over for good.

 

Or so I thought….

I’m back to dabbling. My arms sticky from wrist to elbow with liqueurs and ketchup, my feet tired and back aching. I can feel myself slipping, but it’s just so damn easy…..

 

It’s a beautiful day in the neighbourhood…

Here’s a little known fact about me.

I was born with a weirdo magnet.

What’s this you say?

Allow me to elaborte.

For some reason, life’s more colourful characters are drawn to me like a moth to the flame.  Put me in a crowd of 500 people and the lone weirdo will find me. They will seek me out. They will engage in conversation with me.

 

Don’t believe me? Ask those who tend to spend a lot of time with me. They’ll confirm this.

Like the time the man friend and I were on a #1 bus so crowded that we stopped picking new people up. Miraculously a seat opened up right in front of me. I sat down and ended up sitting next to a lady who was looking for my advice on whether or not she should break up with her boyfriend based on the fact that she found another woman’s umbrella sitting on the back of her boyfriend’s toilet.

 

I can’t make this shit up.

It certainly makes for some interesting stories and strange encounters.

So it really should not have come as much surprise when this morning, I was awoken at 7:45am by somebody frantically pounding on my door and screaming.

 

Let me first take a step back.

I have, for quite some time, had my suspicions that I lived in close proximity to a deeply covert women’s shelter of some sort.  That in itself is totally cool, I can honestly think of worse people to share a neighbourhood with. I live in the downtown area of a busy city and I mind my own business, so really, who lives near me doesn’t really matter a whole lot.

So back to this morning. I stumble out of bed, grab a sweater and open the door. There is a young girl pacing in my hallway, crying and looking incredibly strung out and disheveled. She asks to use my phone and I say yes.

Her story starts to come out through tears and through her phone conversation. She has escaped an abusive relationship, but spent the night in the hospital and has been thrown out of the shelter she was staying at. She has no money, no home, nowhere to go and an abusive boyfriend who will hurt her if he finds her.

Finally, not knowing what else to do I invited her into my apartment. I help her phone some shelters and one agrees to take her in. She asks me if I can take her there and she tells me that she’s really scared. I agree to walk her to the shelter. She asks me for money. I have none. I offer her an apple instead.

I throw on a pair of jeans and my coat and off we go. She hugs me. I help her carry her belongings which consist of what she can fit in her backpack and some assorted contents in a tattered garbage bag. The garbage bag rips further on our walk and I set it down on the muddy sidewalk in an attempt to readjust. We both pick it up and get covered in mud. She is wearing slippers and hospital pants.

A Narcotics Anonymous book falls out of the garbage bag and onto the sidewalk. I pick it up for her and keep walking. She tells me that I’m going to make a good wife for somebody someday. She wants to know if she can come by if she needs somebody to talk to. I tell her I’m not sure how helpful I would be.

We get to the shelter. I ring the buzzer. She disappears inside. I wish her good luck.

I walk home in the early morning sun. It’s warm for March and the city is the kind of quiet that comes with early Sunday mornings.

I sure hope that girl gets the help she needs.

 

 

How I wish I had one more life to live…

So, as I mentioned before, I am taking part in the 30 Things challenge, albeit completely half-assed and lazily…

 

At any rate, I’ve been working hard to say yes more often instead of no to things that drag my sorry ass out of my apartment and into the world.

 

I haven’t really done anything epic or noteworthy enough to ramble on about for an entire blog post. What I do want to talk about is a different type of goal.

 

The Life Goal.

 

My Life Goals aren’t so much like “Be the CEO of a company” or “have children”. They’re more along the lines of “join the Century club” or “learn how to surf”.

 

I think Life Goals should be more experiential and slightly ridiculous. If you want to be the CEO of a company, that’s more of a legit professional goal to set, assuming you are the type of person to set such things. (I am not. We’ve been over this.)

 

I can however commit to setting some Life Goals.

 

And I’m going to share them here. Because I can. So there.

 

Please feel free to chime in and share yours. Maybe we have similar Life Goals? Perhaps we can collaborate?

 

-         Learn how to surf

-         Join the century club (100 shots of beer in 100 minutes)

-         Sing on stage with a band

-         Have a lemon tree in my backyard (this includes living in a climate that is warm enough to warrant this)

-         Visit every continent

-         Dip my toes in all 4 of the major oceans

-         Get a tattoo

-         Visit every province and territory in Canada

-         Visit all 50 states

-         Complete a 30 day yoga challenge

-         Learn how to make wine (and not the shit you can buy for $20 in a kit)

 

Some Life Goals I have completed:

 

-         See Radiohead in concert

-         Go to California

-         Drive the Pacific Coast Highway

-         Drink a beer under the Eiffel Tower

-         Learn how to ski

-         Get a piercing

-         Dye my hair a radical colour