In Which I Am Called a Hero

Sigh, she called me a hero....I had my appointment with the Idaho Housing Authority this morning, and it went really, really well. She was asking all of these questions about our current living situation, etc...and when she saw the plethora of kids in a 2 bedroom, she was curious as to how that worked. I explained that Hannah has her own room, the boys all share, and I sleep in the living room on a hide-a-bed, and that is when she called me a hero. How cool is that? I don't see it as being heroic, but it is really good to find someone who sees it not as "white trashness" but simply something that has to be done and therefore I did it. If that makes sense. But it DID go really well, and if everyone sends back their verifications in a timely manner (and believe me, I let all of them know that they best get their forms signed and sent back ASAP!), I could have a voucher within two weeks. Wow.

Of course, it is just the beginning; she told me I need to start looking now for a four bedroom home, one that will agree to having the rent subsidized as well as qualify for the program....they don't help with the deposit, so that is a concern, and I don't have enough beds. Or dressers. Or a couch that isn't a piece of shit (literally; it was used when WE got it, and...you know). We also don't have any other furniture other than the kitchen table and three bookcases. But I have to trust and believe that if I keep an open heart and throw this out to the universe it will fall into place, right? She also told me I could actually put my own ad in the paper, so if you guys have any great ideas, let me know.

So that was some potentially great news, which came at a great time. Last night at the meeting, we found out that one of our members killed herself early Saturday morning. She was court ordered to come to AA, having gotten her second or third DUI last year, and has been coming faithfully two nights a week for the last year or so. She would show up visibly smelling of alcohol to at least one of those meetings a week, but still came, and in the last few months actually shared on occasion; we all thought that she was perhaps "getting it," perhaps finding things to be a little easier, but apparently not. I don't know; I certainly knew her to talk to( our meetings on Monday average between 10-15 and on Friday 35-40, so when you see the same people at every meeting, you KNOW them), but I wouldn't say we were friends, so my sadness isn't on a personal level. I mean in the sense that I am not going to go out of my way to go to the memorial service on Friday or anything like that. Still, it is sad on a very elemental level that it seemed like a reasonable alternative to hike out in the middle of the night and blow her brains out with her boyfriend's gun. Easier to quiet the torment and anguish and guilt of an active alcoholic lifestyle THAT way then to do the work required to stay sober-and that is both frightening and so, so sad.

So a little bit of good, a little bad, and that seems to be what life is made of. We didn't have the Internet here yesterday, and I was out of the office until noon today, so there is a ton of actual work to do-makes me really, really glad I have a job I love!