In my current state of mind, i don't believe i should be writing anything. Likely, i should be finding opportunities to be a member of a demolition crew. You know, one of those who use sledgehammers to tear down walls... Yea, that's what i should be doing.
Except. I'm not.
Here i sit. Writing pointless words i don't have the courage to speak out loud. Pretending i'm a happy, peaceful person has it's toll and that facade has come to collect it's dues. I almost feel as if my sanity is slipping away from me and i'm helpless to stop any of it.
An addiction. It's JUST an addiction. I should be able to decide to merely shut if off. That's what everyone expects. Even those who have already been able to shed the same addiction. No fuss. Like a switch. Off and i'll somehow be free.
I need to quit smoking. My husband's budget for this year dictates i need to. No pressure. My health dictates i need to, even if it's already too late. No pressure. My family doesn't think i'm capable. No pressure. My children expected instant results. No pressure. My in-laws feel the need to remind me "gently" how badly my smoking impacts our household budget. No pressure. Ad nauseum. No pressure.
Yea. Right.
What no one knows is my smoking is holding it all back. All that lies behind the mask of happy peacefulness. The grief i've never expressed, the words i've held back to not hurt when the painful truth should've surfaced, the lies i told to survive, the angers, the frustrations, the self-loathing, the self-doubt, the worthlessness i was taught to feel, the... well, everything no one has ever seen.
I'm afraid i will be a different person and those few who love me will cease to care because they won't know who i am anymore. I realize this is unlikely and love doesn't just take a nosedive like that, but i can't help the fear. It's there and it grabs at my insides like a snake squeezing the life from it's prey.
The less i smoke the more frightened i feel.
Every time i try to cold turkey, all it takes is one bout of anxiety and, poof, i've failed again. Failed everyone. Even as i satisfy myself.
Maybe my mother is right. Maybe i've never been "right in the head" enough to be okay and smoking hides those things... Maybe she's wrong... I don't know. I'm terribly afraid though. Regardless.
All i know is i need to quit. And it hurts. Can i be stronger than this pain? I don't know.
I feel adrift and lost.
