Saturday, August 19, 2017

A Fresh Start

Today I quit smoking.


I've been smoking for a week and it was killing me.  Killing my spirit.

I didn't exercise, didn't do housework, barely left the house.  I stopped walking, stopped playing Pokemon Go, stopped my life.

I spent too much money on smokes.

Netflix was my company.

My breathe is wheezing, I've been on the verge of a cold, and have the most horrid taste in my mouth that never goes away. The headache finally stopped just a couple of days ago.  I've had barely a day with more then 5hrs sleep and I'm tired.  So tired. Tired of myself and my stupid self indulgent ways.

But how do I change? I've tried and keep ending back here, in this same place. Disappointed, disillusioned, depressed.

My husband showed me his love today. A touch.  A glance. Hope.

I asked for help.

He bought patches when I asked, along with a supply of chocolate, chocolate self-saucing pudding, ice cream, bourbon, and cat food.  The cat food was not for me. Obviously.  The bourbon was. I declined.

I am sitting on my bed where I have napped, played Candy Crush, and indulged in reading the Twilight Saga once again in an effort to banish myself away from all temptation. I am slightly ill from the chocolate and plagued by that bad taste in my mouth and a wheezing cough that I know will take days to resolve.  The chill of the evening is encroaching and I wonder how I will sleep without pharmaceutical aid given the restlessness that is sure to come as i adjust to life without my addiction.

I wonder how I got to this place. 

A place where sleep is as elusive as hope.

A place where I have achieved so much but have no confidence.

I have my degree, waiting for the outcome of my PhD that cost me 6 years and my belief in my ability to be successful.  I have my children who are now approaching adulthood with the scars I've inflicted upon them with my mistakes.  My inadequacy. I have my husband of 25 years who loves me even now, broken, damaged, ugly.

I should be happy.  

But I'm not.

Another sign of my imperfection.

But when my husband touched me, when I saw the desire in his glance, a spark of hope ignited in a dark corner of my mind.


Maybe I can get up one more time.

Maybe it's worth fighting another day.

Maybe I can be the person I want to be.

Maybe I already am.

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