Dear Old Man

Dear Old Man,

I work for you, you are not my father, you are not my friend, your opinion is not wanted nor welcomed. You think my lifestyle sucks ass, you think that because I’m a millennial I don’t know what hard work is. You think I am entitled and spoiled because my parents gave me everything they could. You think that you are better because you grew up in a generation that had to work for everything they had with out any new technology. This is what I have to say about that. Fuck you.

Fuck you, and your opinion. I did not come here to get a lecture, I did not come here for you to dictate my life. I am not your daughter, I am not your niece, or even someone you know enough to make any of those judgements. You don’t know who I am or what I am capable of. You have known me for less than a month. I work for you, you should be telling me how grateful that a young couple has fallen into your lap and is willing to do this kind of work for you. You should realize what blessing it is to have able bodies working for you. I will leave and someone will appreciate me and my youth. And you? You will get a regular workamper who is retired, that may or may not have the stamina of a young 25 year old. Who may or may not be as fast. I am not denying that they will probably have more knowledge, more wisdom, more experience under their belt. But can they lift 100+ lbs.? Can they run around for 8 hours straight during one of your banquets serving and busing tables and cleaning and picking up thrash? How many retired people have you seen working at a restaurant? Either as a server, bar tender, or cook?

You know you need me, us, more than we need you. You know that we will find another job within the week. You know you don’t have your shit together and are trying to blame me for your lack of preparedness. You’re right, if I leave this job the next workamping job will have me do the exact same thing that you are having me do. But they may not be jerks like you and your son, they may be more organized and more prepared and more knowledgeable, they may be nicer and more dedicated. You are not about to tell me that you think this is the very best there is, because if thats what you think then you are so full of yourself.

I feel good about myself, I am happy about my life choices. When I am old I won’t care about material things, I will care about all the wonderful memories I have all over the beautiful states. I will remember my adventures fondly, and you will be so irrelevant I will not remember you.

Let me catch you up (with pictures)

We got to Colorado without the trailer, cuz it was getting worked on. We have a love hate relationship with work, but I mean is manageable.

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Plus this place is gorgeous!!!

 

Okay so then we went back to Utah, and we finally made our engagement official!

Then our truck broke down and my parents had to come rescue us and we got to haul our trailer back with a dodge durango, and now we are back in Colorado.

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How did I get here? 

In the backseat of the truck, Cam is driving and some homeless dude is in the passenger side. Cam has been driving around for the last two maybe three hours trying to find someone to ask about where to find them or how to or what. And he did. He found some guy and he asked him and sat there and convinced him to take him to meet someone. I’m afraid he’s going to pull out a gun on us and rob us. Is that bad? 

I almost just lied, damn. I started typing something that I knew was not true. But I wanted to make the situation seem better than it actually is… which is shitty. I almost did the one thing I promised not to do. I am so cared and so sketched out. 

Cam says he’s hoping to get suboxone, that the guy might know where to get them. I think I’m gonna be sick. I refused to get down the truck, so I’m here with the two of them. I mean where would I even go you know? The guy actually talked to me. And he seemed respectful. 

I’m typing this as it happens by the way. Like this is happening today, right now, as I type. We are here. Ugh. All I can think of is, what I could be doing if I had dated that kid that wanted to be a doctor when I went to college, or if I had made it work with Cortland or anyone else that seemed or showed interest at all at any point of my life. 

We are in some sketchy mobile home park, and we are just sitting here, waiting for the guy to come back. I don’t even feel mad, I feel like I’ve been here before, getting mad or upset isn’t going to help anything. Leave is what I need to do. Forget about workamping, forget about trying to make shit work. I need to leave. I don’t know why I stay, I don’t know why I’m here. 

Crossroads

I’m in a hospital room, the walls are bluish grey, the lights are dimmed. Cam is dozing off on the bed. He is withdrawing from heroin. Again. For what seems like the billionth time. We got here last night after a long day of driving and arguing, we found a place to camp for the night and then this morning we found the methadone clinic. Except his insurance is from Washington. And it doesn’t work here, and with out insurance is $350 dollars induction fee plus $100 dollars for the week. Which is basically all the money we have. So the next option was to see what the ER could do for him. They basically said that he could go to detox with prescriptions they would give him or he could just walk out with out nothing. He almost chose to walk out, but decided to try detox. 

I can’t help but think about how young the doctor is, how he’s the same age as Cam. And I can’t help but think what if I had dated someone like the doctor instead? What if I’m supposed to be with someone like that? Cam is snoring as I write this, we barely slept last night, and I’m just sitting here typing this on my phone feeling hungry and tired and done. Cam cried when he made the decision to go to detox, supposedly because he was upset that he has made himself go through this yet again. Because he is concern about what I’m gonna do and tell our new employer whom we haven’t even met. I don’t even know how I feel, I’m just indifferent, I’m empty? 

I feel like I’m at a crossroads, I’m continuing on straight on this path, but I’m looking to my right and left wondering if they’re better. Or maybe, I missed the turn at the last crossroad, and now I’m going straight and I’m looking for a right or left turn, I can’t turn back but going forward doesn’t feel right anymore. So what do I do? 

I can’t just decide to leave, this is scary. So I’m stuck going forward hoping that it will get better, And if it doesn’t then hopefully at the next turn I have the courage to take it. I can’t keep going like this, I hate it. I hate the situation and myself and him. 

He’s a Dreamer

We are in a rest stop somewhere in Idaho, we spent the night here but haven’t gone anywhere yet because Cam is withdrawing. I could drive but I think he’s waiting for it be later in the afternoon so when we roll in to Salt Lake he can hit up his old dealer. Two days sober, because he had to be is better than nothing right? 

It makes me so sad because you should hear him talk about his hopes and dreams. It also scares me because if his hopes and dreams aren’t realistic then why try. He wants to build tiny houses, he wants to bring his daughter along with us, he wants to find a remodeling job like the one he use to have. He wants to get a smaller trailer for us, no he wants to get a fifth wheel, or a camper. Maybe a van. A bus is what he really wanted in the first place, let’s do that!  He wants to buy an enduro, or a 4wheel, he wants to remodel our trailer and get a king bed in here somehow. 

He loves to dream, and maybe heroin helps him with that. His dreams are not always big. I mean he wants to get back into rock climbing and 100% encourage him to do so and hope he does, he wants to join a gym, I really hope he does too. Get a mountain bike, that might be harder to do because we are dirt poor, but yes it can be done. 

I think he loves living in his head, and that’s scary. It’s great to have dreams and to dream big but if your dreams are not realistic then what? We barely have money for gas, we need other things first before enduros or tattoos. But at the same time I feel like if he has the ability to dream big, it means that he still has hope right? 

I’m really sad

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Cam at Ruby Beach, WA.

I am always in a bad mood, I am always ornery or stressed out or sad or upset or crying. I cannot remember a day in this journey where all I did was just smile all day. It’s always be mad, cry, smile, be mad again. I blame Cam, I really do. He says it’s my choice. It’s my choice to cry, its my choice to be upset.

Which is true, but I cry because he has spent our last 20 dollars on heroin instead of food. I get upset because he’s high a 3 am and wants me to stay up and watch movies with him and cuddle and have sex but I work the next day. I am always ornery because if he’s not high and I want to cuddle he tells me to go away and stop bugging him because he feels sick. I get mad because I need a new pair of glasses, I am to the point where my depth perception is off because my prescription is so old, and he says we don’t have money for that. Yet in February he spent over $1,000 on heroin.

Today is my last day as a volunteer, I got another job lined up for us in Colorado. He is already trying to get out of working there. He is saying I could work there for our spot, and he will go look for a job at the nearest city. I am stressing out, because we have to drive home first get the trailer looked at first and then go to our next spot. I just don’t think that’s gonna go as smoothly as it should.

I know that this is an abusive relationship, I have tried to talk to him about it and he denies it. That alone tells me that I am right. He doesn’t beat me, he doesn’t yell or shout at me, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel abused. His addiction always comes first. We rotate around him and his needs for heroin. He manipulates me, he lies to me, he’s not romantic. When I act silly, he gets mad, he can act silly because he’s high, I can’t because I’m sober.

Yet, despite all that. It’s my fault. Because I’m the one that stays. Because I’m the one that doesn’t just kick him out and let him fend for himself and let him get home however he can. It’s my fault because I’m the one that is not strong enough to say no, I’m the one that let’s him get to me and my emotions.

I keep thinking that it will get better once we get out of this tiny rainy town, he did great last summer. We are pretty sure he has that seasonal depression thing, and this place doesn’t help with that because it is always so grey. So we keep thinking once he is in a warmer, dryer place and he can start all his climbing, running, hiking, biking, etc.. he’ll be better. Last winter he started to get bad too, but the summer he did good. So maybe this time it’ll be the same? Then I will find a job somewhere like Arizona or California where the weather is always a bit warm and sunny.

I keep telling myself to just wait, to be patient, to be okay. I’m just so sad. And scared.