I live alone right now. And just finished washing out a can that held the soup I intend on consuming momentarily. It always freaks me out a bit, because once you've lost a bit of your finger to a tin can, it's hard to open one without the reminder to be ginger with your actions. And it's canned soup. Cheap, low in calories and a definitive reminder that a lonely girl is alone. That on top of it's a big ole city that I live in. I can manage a decent life, but there are times when a girl needs to get her drink on. I'm not gonna say that I don't have friends nearby to grab a drink with (ok, that was a bit gratuitous, I have A friend), but on a Saturday night, after listening to the sounds of the city living life outside my window, a girl wants a drink. She want's to participate in life. But, there is no one there. I've been alone all week. Working on putting together a 3 hour lecture for a presentation on Monday at Azuza Pacific University. That in itself has been a trying task, and part of me is thankful that I've not been called up for work. My bank account is not so happy. But tonight, I finally completed the written portion. 15 pages. I like to write out my script, so that there is no faltering in my presentation. I'm anal like that. But I also wanted to celebrate. Yet I am alone. I've ventured to the corner store and purchased a wee bit of Jameson to cheer me on, but have found that it's just not living up to what I had hoped it would be in my mind. So, in a semi-drunken state, I privately replied to the one commenter on my "water wears away stone" post. I'm a bit of a hypocrite in that It may take me weeks to post a blog, yet I expect immediate response to my posting. It's pretty unrealistic, but that's what I expect, nonetheless. The odd thing is that the one person who has replied so far is a stranger. I worked a job with this individual for a couple days and know him only from a professional work experience. And he has been the only person to call me out and challenge me in the one thing I dared put myself out for. So, tonight, in my semi-drunken stupor, I accepted his challenge, and I'm pretty freaked the fuck out about it. I soooo wanna quit smoking, but I soooo don't wanna quit smoking. I love it as much as I hate it. But it's on. It is the fuck on. So, sometime, eventually, tonight, before I fall asleep or pass out, I will have my last cigarette. I will rue this post and rue the post before it and curse my ever having put out in the world this thing. But I put out in the world this thing for this very reason. And a silver lining is that my sister will, in January, turn the age that all women who smoke and take the pill know, will have to quit too. So though I'm several years ahead of her, I will at least know someone else shares my love, desire and abstinence from the thing we want so desperately.
Jump on in. The water is fine.
ReplyDeleteI quit and started again for ten years before it finally stuck in 2009. And even then I had a month-long relapse as recently as September.
As I type this, my boyfriend is outside smoking where it is cold, and damp, and stupid. Now he's coming in smelling like a bingo parlor. (Somewhere along the road I started associating smoking with the desperate people I saw smoking at bus stops and outside of convenience stores.)
Yeah. I no longer want any part of that.
My "secret" was figuring out why I kept going back. I figured that out and I was pretty golden. That being said, I think quiting is a bit like getting rid of hiccups: there is no one solution for everyone.
But this is what I want to offer: don't add quitting-the success or failure-to your personal accounting. Quiting doesn't make us a better person. It sure as shit didn't make me any better. When we start again it doesn't mean we're a "bad" or have failed. It a decision. Today, I am a smoker. Today, I am not a smoker.
I offer this up because in my experience, feeling like a "failure" because of one cigarette or twenty sent me into a spiral of self-loathing that fed into my need to demonstrate that I *was* as much of a failure as I felt.
It's going to suck no matter what you do. Try not to make it even worse for yourself. Nurture rather than berate. I guess I'm just asking that you be gentle with yourself.
Dear Seeker-
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comments. And it's an easy one to forget. It seems at one point and time I needed to be consumed by self-loathing. It was the thing that motivated me in a sick sort of way. But now, now it's just tired. I'm tired. Of hating on myself all the time. So it was really great to read your comment and remind myself that it's all a choice. I can choose to be a D hater, or I can choose to acknowledge that this sucky thing will suck, and it's alright if I stray, as long as I hop back on track.
Thanks again!
Donna
Donna,
ReplyDeleteI've been waiting for another post and I just realized that my above post seemed a bit like stranger danger....
The Seeker = Gina P.
Hope this clears things up.
And that you post again soon.