Maybe it is for the best the fact I do not work any more.  I hated almost every job I ever had.  My rebellious attitude did not help matters, and I was pretty wild when I was not medicated.  I was also sarcastic and sometimes cynical toward my bosses and coworkers, but I can also say I busted my butt, yet I took pride in my work for very little money.  The worst thing is I never saved money even though Pop told me I should; I would blow it all trying to find happiness, but it never worked.  I have had so many jobs, and I even made friends at some of those jobs.  I have done every thing from weed-eating railroad tracks and a grave yard all summer, riding on the back of a garbage truck in the freezing rain, to tarring roofs and golf course maintenance.

Working on golf courses was probably the only time I was halfway content.  I enjoyed being outdoors and working with my hands and striping up the grass.  Last summer I applied to the very first golf course I worked on, but I did not hear back from the superintendent.  He probably got in touch with some of my old bosses, and I imagine they told him not to hire me; I can not say I blame him for not doing so because I told him about my mental illness and disability.  I am so quiet now my potential co-workers may not have liked me.  I wonder if people think I might be stuck-up because I do not say much, but I promise you I have nothing to be stuck up about.  I am sure my self-esteem is somewhat low, but I am a work-in-progress: Jesus is not done with me yet.

I guess I should have went into turf grass management when I was accepted into the Agricultural Institute at North Carolina State; however, I chose livestock management instead; this may have worked had I grown up on a farm or ranch.  I attended classes at NC State for a week and dropped out, as I decided I wanted to go back to East Tennessee State to earn my bachelors degree.  I really liked going to NC State, but I was commuting from Mebane to Raleigh, and it was tough on my 1984 Chevy Blazer.  I did that twice: I left ETSU again to attend NC State, and I ended up doing the same thing; I dropped out once more.

If there is one thing I miss about working, it is the calluses on my hands; they are soft now.  I look at my hands and I think maybe I took the easy way out, yet it was the hardest thing to do: that is, applying for disability.  I do not know why being on disability bothers me so, but I do know it is the best thing for me.  If I still did manual labor, there is no way I could still write in this blog because I would definitely be too tired to do so.  I often wonder what my father would think if he were here because I was still working when he moved on.  I somehow need to know he is proud of me regardless; albeit, I believe he used to worry about me and all the different jobs I have had.  My parents have helped me out so much; I would probably be dead without their help.

Work as long as you can because once you stop, the body does not handle it well.  After being out of work for so long, there is no way I could go back to manual labor; mainly because my back and knees are shot.  I guess all those years of hard work finally caught up with me, among other things.  I am so grateful for Crystal; she is so understanding and supportive of me and my issues.  I could never show her how much I love her except when my soft hands take hers, and she accepts that unconditionally.  I am very fortunate; I know that, and I will treasure all the hard work I used to do because it has made me a stronger and humbler person.

Take care and God bless!

Chris