On Becoming A Mommy

Life sure has a way of grabbing a hold of us, so that all of our attention is on these things that stand before us…sucking out all of our energy and leaving us to do little else. For these last weeks, all my focus has been on facing giants, vomiting up the shit sandwiches that are way past their expiration dates, and researching and learning how to apply the new found wisdom to my life, all while trying to hang on to whatever sanity there is left in this brain of mine.

Yet, life goes on just the same…food has to be cooked(and you damn well better believe it’s healthy food and I am continually amazed by the great recipes I am finding, trying & loving)…clothes have to be washed…the house has to be cleaned…a garden(much bigger this year) has to be planted(thank God for husbands)…of course there is exercise to be had(Jillian Michaels is kicking my ass daily and I am now going to a yoga class 2 times a week and doing it on my own)…and of course there is actual work to go to so that we can have things like food and shelter…and more importantly, children that need to be loved and tended to, which means “time“…children that don’t care that I might be in the middle of a hot flash, they just want a hug and to be held right now…children that are completely crazy for me even though I have been acting completely crazy …these children that make my life so much sweeter in spite of how many moments we have, that cause me to question how the hell I became a parent again.

This past week, in the middle of “one of those” moments…you know, one of those moments when your child(who is suppose to be completely potty trained)completely shits out of her clothes, in the middle of a packed restaurant? And you are totally not prepared because they are potty trained? And your all by yourself to deal with this on your own? After figuring out how to get out of there, without getting the ice cream that was promised to 2 little people for eating all their food, without raising attention to ourselves and getting her in our van, without getting shit everywhere, and getting her home and into the bath tub, I was exasperated to say the least.

In my mind, I was screaming, “I am too old for this. I am suppose to be the fun grandma not the mommy.” As I tearfully knelt there next to the tub, cleaning her up, she grabbed my face, kissed my cheek and said, “I love you mommy.” In that moment, she melted my exasperation and any anger that I felt. She broke up my pity party with her sweet smile and her innocent expectation of my unconditional love. In reality, it doesn’t matter to her how old I am, it just matters that I am here. Of course she sensed my frustration, but regardless she knew that no matter how I am feeling, I will still take care of her and love her. What matters to her is that she can count on me.

Today, May 14th is the 2 year anniversary of us officially getting our little people. Regardless of the fact that we had them 90 % of the time leading up to this day, it is the day that their mother, my step daughter, handed them over to us. Ironically, it was the day after Mothers Day and came on the day we had reached the “enough bridge” with her. What started out to be a temporary situation and her getting her life together, has become a long battle of fighting for the best interests of 2 little people. Each month that passes by that she doesn’t get her life together, cements their place in our home.

It wasn’t suppose to be this way and this most certainly, was not what we intended, when we started down this road. As reality set in, about a year ago, that this was no longer a temporary situation, I started this blog to record my journey of becoming an unexpected mommy once again. My life was interrupted to fit in 2 little people that had already captured my heart.
You would think that the second time around would be so much easier. It’s not. Granted I loved being a mommy the first time around. Granted I have the wisdom I gained from having walked this mommy road with my 5 children. Granted I learned a trick or two through out those years, that have come in handy in the present. Granted I have learned to pick my battles and because of previous experiences, I have the ability to see more of the bigger picture, than just what is at hand. I know what comes next. I know what I am aiming for. I know what works and what doesn’t. I know that you can’t parent each of your children in exactly the same way and get the same results.

So yeah, I’ve learned a few things along the way. Regardless, these 2 little people are their own unique persons and come with their own set of challenges. It’s just that this time, I am older and come with my own set of challenges. The one thing that remains the same, is that once again, I am watching a piece of my heart, walk outside of myself and grow up before my eyes.

Raising someone else’s children, and loving them like they were your own, comes with it’s own set of challenges. When I agreed to do this, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy but since I had never walked this road before, I had no idea what I had signed up for. I still don’t really know what the “right” way is suppose to look like but I do know that I would do it all over again in a heart beat. Even with all the heart ache and the life we have given up in order to do “this“, I would not think twice about it…even though I am sure we are not doing “this” perfectly, by any means, we would still choose “this” road.

Because I am so enmeshed in the “parenting” from day to day, I can’t always see how far the little people have come over these past 2 years. When I hear the insights of people that are on the outside looking in…from those that have been witness of our transformation into a family, I am reassured that we are in fact doing the right thing. People see the happy, loved, well behaved, and secure children that they are and remind us of the sad fate that would have been theirs, had we not chosen this road.

This journey of becoming a mommy again, while in my mid 40’s has changed me. I have always said that my five children, raised me up to be the woman I am today. Now, I say, these two little people, have come in to my life to work out all the quirks and rough edges…to teach me those things I didn’t learn the first time around. I think back to those first days of embarking on uncharted waters and not having a clue to what we were going to do. We didn’t plan for them to still be here but here we are 2 years later…living, loving, growing and learning how to be an unconventional family.

Today our family is 2 years old...Maybe I am too old to be a mommy…maybe there are moments that I wish I was the fun grandma and not the mean mommy that say’s “no”…but just maybe, we are all right where we are suppose to be?

P.S. I'm still not smoking.

P.S.S. I apologize for not commenting on your blogs recently. Even though I get to read occasionally, there has been no time for my computor addiction. I do plan to take some time for myself in the near future so I promise to stop by soon! Hugs and love, Lori

I shared with you last week, that I am right smack in the middle of the insanity called menopause. Even as I reached the one month mark yesterday, of not smoking, I do still question my sanity of stopping at such a time. Maybe that is why I am completely amazed that I am still smoke free and have not committed murder.Seriously.




I have tried hard to keep my sense of humor through out all of this but believe me it has been harder than hell to laugh some days. The insanity of all these things are no laughing matter. There is nothing funny about withdrawing from an addiction…the side affects that feel like you really could come out of your skin…and sorting through the issues that make me addicted to such things, makes me want to hide under a rock.



Reading this article helped me a lot and explains a lot of the symptoms associated with withdrawal. I read lots of things to help me get through and nonetheless, just reading that I would very likely gain weight, and not being able to sleep at night, feeling irritable, tired and frustrated and fighting mood swings and depression, have about put me over the edge.


Here’s a glimpse into this insanity…the first week of not smoking. It’s 2 am and I can’t sleep. I go on-line to various stop smoking web sites to get encouragement. I read that a person can expect to gain up to 21 lbs and that is just from not smoking…that an average smoker burns 200 calories a day just in the process of smoking and that just stopping, will put on the weight…that it takes 3 months for your metabolism to get to normal…that if you eat more, due to your increased appetite, and don’t increase your exercise, that you can then double or even triple that number.



Holy Hannah. Up to this point I thought the reason people gained so much weight is because they ate instead of smoked. I flipped out. I ran to my sleeping husband and he was woken up to me screaming and crying hysterically over him. You can take a moment a feel sorry for my poor husband, that didn’t know what hit him. Honestly, I think he wanted to stuff a cigarette in my mouth and call it quits for me but he didn’t. He’s such a trooper.




There is nothing funny about Menopause and the hellish insanity that living in the middle of it can bring. When you read about all these symptoms at I hate Menopause or here in a long list of symptoms… which include weight gain, insomnia, irritability, mood swings, depression, and fatigue which are all smoking withdrawal symptoms also. You have to be as surprised as I am that I am not in jail.



I have determined that menopausal woman are not suppose to be “mommy’s” to little children. A menopausal woman is no match up to a 2 ½ and almost 4 year old children, who’s characteristics include being rigid and inflexible, domineering and demanding, having violent emotions, being defiant, argumentative, and going to opposite extremes. Can you see the conflict? Can you hear the conflict? Once again, you can take a moment to feel sorry for my poor husband who comes home to this every day.


… only for a moment though, because he comes with his own set of symptoms. In all my research to find some answers and help for these maladies of mine, I came across this web site called Body Logic, about Andropause, which is male menopause and my dear lovely husband has most of the symptoms listed. You men are not off the hook and come to find out that more men suffer then what gets talked about. One of the symptoms listed is Irritable Male Syndrome which I always knew existed(sorry guys)but didn’t know the medical community had an actual name for it. Just reading that alone, gave me some pleasure. Anyways, there is a whole slew of symptoms which he has and now we know why our household has gone completely nuts…and I’m not the only one!




If you can imagine for a moment, a menopausal woman who has recently quit smoking, married to and living with an andropausal man, who also has recently quit smoking,…living with and trying to be “Daddy and Mommy” to a 2 ½ year old little girl and an almost 4 year old little boy. Can you imagine what life is like at our house? The dynamic’s in our home right now are explosive, emotional and exhausting. This is no laughing matter…but maybe it is…cause seriously, it is kind of funny when I lay it all out like this.


Recently, I happened to catch the Dr. Phil show which is surprisingly rare, but the woman I care for had it on and on this day it was about Menopause and Andropause and they brought up Bioidentical Hormones. I must live under a rock, because I had never heard of this before and come to find out that it’s been out for a long time. In fact Suzanne Summers wrote about them in her book, Ageless, The Naked Truth about Bioidentical Hormones. I have not read the book yet but I have been researching them and my husband and I, are quite possibly going to give them a try.




I know my husband and I aren’t the only ones going through this so I want to share with you what we are finding out. In doing my research I came across this web site and this one,that explain bioidentical hormones and what they do for men and women. I also came across this blog, Holy Hormones, that is written by a woman, that has gotten a lot of help from them. She also shares a lot of good information about women issues so I would recommend giving her blog a visit.
　
So here I am, exercising like crazy and cooking and eating really healthy on top of everything else I already do in a day, just to maintain some sense of control over these things. I am doing everything I can to get a decent night sleep but it’s not happening. I am doing everything I can to not let the shit sandwiches kick my ass completely. I am doing everything I can to maintain some sense of peace and tranquility in our home in spite of the hormones that are shooting all over the place. The truth is, I am just trying to hang on to my sanity here and if you have any information to share with me, it would be greatly appreciated by me and anyone that has to be around me.


If you are ever wondering why I haven’t stopped by your place and commented or written a new post in awhile, you now know why!

A Rite of Passage

When I entered my sophomore year of high school, I anticipated the initiation into high school, as I had heard tall tales of this rite of passage from those who had already experienced the thrill. At that time, I lived in the middle of rural Minnesota…on a farm and surrounded by small rural communities…the town I lived closest to, had a population of 50, with a general store, a feed mill, a bar and 2 churches. What more do you need?

The country school was closed, so all of us in the area were bused to the surrounding towns for school. While I was shipped off to one school, in a much larger town, many of my friends went to another, which was the one I wanted to attend because it was smaller and more of my friends were there. I hung out in this town more often then in the one that I was forced to attend.


Even though I went to school in the one town, I continued hanging out with my friends in this other town and participated in the activities that took place at their school. One of the traditions at their school, was the initiation of sophomores into high school.


The initiation was this…all new sophomores were randomly kidnapped by seniors, in groups of 2 or 3, after dark, when they least expected it. They would be blindfolded, given an unknown drink that had to be guzzled and then put in the back of a truck or in the trunk of a car. Then they would be driven around long enough to confuse the hell out of them… down country roads, field roads and even through woods and fields, before they were dropped off in the middle of no where, to find their own way back to town. Now remember, this was a time before cell phones so it’s not like we could call someone, to come pick us up.

This rite of passage ritual took place each September. Of course this ritual was not condoned by the school but they didn’t stop it. Parents knew about it and much like with our drinking, turned their heads to it and thought of it as harmless fun. No one was ever hurt in the process of this initiation and for the record, as far as I know, no one that didn’t already drink alcohol, was forced to drink it. It’s just that pretty much everyone drank already.


Much like our “start of summer ritual“ of jumping off the bridges, naked, into the cold river, we anticipated this rite of passage with excitement yet with a little bit of fear. Like I said, I had heard many tall tales of previous “kidnappings” and thought it would be fun. We knew it was coming once school started. We just didn’t know when. It was always in the back of our minds to be prepared but they knew us well enough to catch us off guard. These seniors were our friends so how mean could they be? I was a tough farm chic, how bad could it really be? (At least, I thought I was a tough farm chic. I weighed like 90 lbs. LOL)

I learned very quickly, the night of my initiation, just how mean my friends could be. I was taken with 2 of my good friends on a Friday night, from the parking lot, during a football game and we were already on our way to being drunk. After we were blindfolded and put in the back of a stinky farm truck, we were driven around for an hour. They took our shoes from us before leaving us in the middle of a field. At the moment, I was just so thankful that they hadn’t taken our clothes, but that didn’t last long because walking in a cold field, barefoot, is not pleasant.


We had no idea whatsoever of where we were and it was so dark we could barely see each other, let alone where we were going. So there we were in pitch dark, starting to feel the cold, but laughing our asses off at the pure thrill of it all.

We started walking and after all they had given us to drink, of course we had to pee. Dropping our drawers was no problem for my one friend and I but for my other friend, she would not hear of it and said she was holding it until we made it back to town. We walked and we walked.


Believe me, we were no longer laughing once the reality of this night set in. In fact, my friend,(the one who was holding her pee) who was kind of prissy, who had a history of crying when she was drunk, started crying. This wasn’t new to us because this is how she was. She was the “good” girl. She did good in school, was a cheerleader, and was involved in her church . She was the girl that the teachers and parents thought was good and pure. In reality, not so much. I kept her secrets. I let her keep the persona of being the good girl. I took the blame for her often so that she could stay out of trouble. She loved to have a good time and then cry about it.

We walked until we found a little patch of woods and looked for wood to start a fire. We found a few pieces of wood but we were unsuccessful in starting a fire so moved on. By this point, my prissy friend, started yelling at our other friend and I, blaming us for not finding our way out of there. Can you see where this is going? Yep, she was the poop on our party. She would not stop complaining and whining. She was acting like such a piss ant that we started calling her Miss Piss Ant. With the potty mouth that I had at that time, she is lucky, I did not call her the names I wanted to call her that night. She is lucky that we did not run from her and leave her all to herself to find her own way, because believe me, she would still be there today. Don’t think we didn’t consider doing this but she was our friend.


My other friend, had a flask of cherry slow gin with her, so whenever Miss Piss Ant, got too unbearable, she took another chug, which only meant that she continued getting drunker than we already were and so she was of no help in finding our way. She was my friend that was known to drink until she threw up, but in the mean time did a lot of stupid stuff , the kind of stuff that usually pissed other people off. In fact, I think she pulled me down on the ground at least a dozen times. And of course she thought it was funny. Me, not so much. She could have cared less whether we found our way out or not. And she had no problem spouting off obscenities at Miss Piss Ant. Seriously, at one point I considered leaving both of them behind to fight it out on their own and find my own way back but the rule of the game is you have to return together.

We finally found a gravel road and just as we relaxed in knowing that this road would lead to another, which could lead us to town, we heard a loud growl in the silence of the night. We screamed out from being startled and started running. If you have ever walked on a gravel road barefoot, then you know that running on one is just as painful. But, when your running from a farm dog that wants to take a bite out of you, you don’t really feel the pain on your feet until the next day.


Now remember, Miss Piss Ant, the poop on our party friend, that wouldn’t pee outside? Either she peed in her pants when she was startled or while running down the road. Once we had gotten far enough away, we stopped and she told us that she had peed in her pants. We laughed our asses off, but her, not so much. It served her right for being such a piss ant.


We walked that night for many hours. Eventually, we found a main road and we knew where we were. I learned that night, that walking on cold tar is much better then walking on cold gravel. I am sure walking in cold wet pants was quite unpleasant for Miss Piss Ant…enough to make her learn her lesson about holding her pee and being too proud to drop her drawers when it was necessary. I think she toughen up a bit after that night.

My other friend, ended up throwing up along the side of the road and while I was holding her hair back, a car came along and gave us a ride to town. Thankfully, this wasn’t against the rules.
　
Once we got back to town, we realized how filthy dirty we were after walking and falling down in a field for hours. We looked at each other and laughed. Some how having survived this rite of passage together, we felt closer in spite of some of the drama that had taken place during that night. As we walked down the main street of town, we found our shoes hanging from a sign. After putting our shoes on our filthy feet, we stood in the middle of the street and hugged. We passed the test. We could now say we had done it. We could now tell our tall tales to those younger than us. You can be assured that when we became seniors we had our opportunity to initiate our sophomore friends as well.


For some reason, this story came back to me the other day. In thinking about it, it kind of reminds me of how I am feeling right now. In a lot of ways, I feel like I have been blindfolded and dropped off in the middle of no where, am lost and I am trying to find my way home. This place that I am at right now, feels foreign to me. I feel like someone has taken my clothes and left me naked in a land where no one knows my language. I feel like someone(me) has removed the blindfold from my eyes and I am seeing things I don’t want to see. I am seeing new things every day. Sometimes, I want to put the blindfold back on.


I am still smoke free. Isn’t it amazing that something as simple as removing smoking from my life, can reveal such a mess? Can cause me to act like such a mess? Of course it’s not just the “not smoking” anymore, that is the only issue…it’s all that was hidden underneath it. I question my sanity at choosing to do this when I was already in the middle of an insanity all of it's own, called menopause. I am a mess. I am not liking myself very much right now. I am taking baby steps in learning how to be gentle and good to myself though and if you know me, then you know this is big for me.

I am learning to breath through these moments…to stop holding my breathe. This is my rite of passage. I will find my way home. But, first, I should probably find my clothes.

Something to Smile About

My time here on the computer has become even more sporadic then it was before. I miss it...I miss writing more than anything. I miss getting around to visiting you more often... but I keep thinking(and praying)that soon, I will get my life to be more manageable and it will allow me time for myself, in this way.

Since I quit smoking, I have been facing my giants head on. I've come to realize that if I don't face these things, and make some changes in me, I will eventually start back smoking again. I've quit before and it's the same things that keep sucking me back in. If I don't learn to face my fears without hiding behind a cigarette...if I don't learn to deal with my stress in a better way then with smoking...if I don't learn to deal with my emotions and start expressing them, whether it be anger, sadness, hurt or frustration, without stuffing them down with a cigarette...if I don't find new ways to reward myself or to celebrate without a cigarette...if I don't, eventually I will go running back to them, just like I've always done. I don't want to keep doing this.

Fighting giants can get pretty ugly. Stopping myself in the midst of a sweaty battle and taking a good look at my reflection in the muddy waters, I tell myself to keep moving forward. I can get pretty stinky some days. I don't always like what I am seeing in myself. I don't always like anyone around me either. Seriously, I am serving up a bowl of pissed off soup with this shit sandwich. Some days I don't know if I am coming or going. Inch by inch, step by step, I am living without smoking. I am living and breathing without a cigarette in my mouth to help me do it. Amen.

Every other time that I've quit, I never addressed these things. In the past, I quit for my children, and my grandchildren because they wanted me to. I quit, but deep down I knew I would go back eventually. This time, I quit for me. This time, except for the two little people, my children and grandchildren don't even know that I've quit. I didn't tell them yet, because I know they are tired of being disappointed when I started up again. Sometimes they do read this blog, but most of the time, they are too busy. Remarkably, they are not smokers and even though they hate my smoking, they have never been mean to me about it and have done nothing but support me in quitting. This time, I want them to come to know that I quit for me and that it's different this time. But, only time will tell...I just don't want to disappoint them.

I really do have these remarkable children. In spite of the imperfect mother that I am, they have become these great young adults...who, if I knew them outside of being their mother, would want to be their friend. Each of them, are so amazingly different from one another. Yet, each of them make me feel so loved and honored...more loved and honored than I feel that I deserve. Each of them, have given me the gift of grace, time and time again. And without them, I would not be here.

Even though these days have been on the hellish side of life, I have seen rays of sunlight shining through. Every day I wake up to these smiles...

It's these smiles, that are the last thing I see before I go to work(usually)...it's these smiles, that greet me every day upon my return from work...it's these smiles that I see, most of the time, just before bed...it's these smiles, that keep reminding me not to smoke and why I'm not.

They give me something to smile about every day...just looking at them, makes me smile.

Last weekend, my brother, who is my best Friend(well, besides my husband)watched the little people for the weekend so my husband and I could have a break for a night. He even took them to a Minnesota Twins baseball game! They had a blast and so did he. I think they tired him out! He is getting married in October to this really great woman and they hope to have children. They will make the best parents but until they do, I tell them they can borrow ours whenever they want!

Last, but not least, my little A man (2 year old grandson),is getting to come for a very short unexpected visit this weekend!!! His other grandparent's have a wedding in our area and they asked if we would like to have him for the weekend. Are you kidding me? We can hardly wait!

So the 3 little trouble makers will get to have some fun together while I chase them around and hopefully get some pictures of their trouble making. And believe me when I say, these 3 know how to get into trouble together!

Two Weeks!

It's 2 weeks today that I have gone without smoking! Yes, it's still crazy hard. And yes, I still crave cigarettes but I haven't given in to them. And no, I didn't think I would make it to this point...hell, I didn't think I was going to make it through the first day, let alone 14 whole days. I am facing my giants one day at a time.

This past weekend was my first big test. We had a couples shower for two of our good friends. I knew there would be lots of drinking and smoking. We couldn't miss it but part of me wanted to because deep down I thought I would be too weak to resist. At one point in the night, I wanted to smoke so badly that I went into the house to warm up and to take a break from being around it. I sat in the house and told myself all the reasons why I wasn't smoking...having to tell all of you that I smoked was one of the reasons I didn't. Knowing that I would have to start this whole hellish process over again is another reason I didn't. It was a long night but I made it.

Going into the weekend, everyone told me, that it would be okay if I gave in and had one. But, I know better. I know me. I know that one would never be enough. I know that one will lead me back to smoking.

I know I have a long ways to go before I'm in the clear. I know that I still have a lot of giants butts to kick. But, for today, I am proud of me. I am proud I have made it this far. And I have all of you to thank....so thank you, for supporting me and helping me to believe that I can do this. Seriously, you guys rock!

My Giants

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do. Eleanor Roosevelt

I picked the word “courage” to be my token word for 2009 and once again, life has served up to me, these opportunities, to learn the full meaning of wearing courage. These lessons that involve letting go, relying on my resiliency to keep getting back up when I fall down, accepting and yet trying to change my human flaws that try to rip my confidence away, as I try to put on the face of bravery, are brought to me…to keep me humble as I face “my giants” with courage.

In this present moment, the giant I am facing and fearing is “not smoking”…or so I thought. The thing is, in this past week I have found that “not smoking” is only the outside layer of my giant. Underneath the “not smoking”, are years of layers, of ugly filthy issues that stink from being past their expiration dates. I am on day 11 of not smoking and every single day these issues expose themselves to me and I have nothing to hide behind. I told you smoking was “it” for me but I never realized how much I have hid behind it. How much it was my false courage. I have called alcohol, “liquid courage”, and now I call smoking, “courage on a lit up stick”.

So many feelings and stresses that I was able to stuff inside, just by a puff of courage. I was able to still that quiet voice inside of me…I was able to keep quiet those things that wanted to scream. I could pretend I didn’t feel like crying…smoking stopped the tears from falling. Back in the day, drugs did this for me. It’s why I was high, every moment of the day, for years. With smoking cigarettes, I didn’t get high anymore, but it became it’s own high.

I remember the very first time I smoked. I was eleven. A year later, a friend of mine, taught me and another girl how to smoke for real(to inhale), in a back ally behind a bar, that all our families were in, celebrating a wedding. The 3 of us sat with a tray of drinks we had stolen from the bar, a joint and we each had a pack of cigarettes. He made us keep smoking until we were doing it “right”. Then we smoked the joint. All I remember is that for the first time in my life I felt free from internal pain. I was numb and numb felt good…it felt perfect. I was hooked.

I came to believe that as long as I was numb, it didn’t matter what was said or done to me. I could stand before my father and just watch his mouth move. It didn’t matter that he didn’t like me and that when he spoke to me, vile words came out of his mouth…it didn’t matter or penetrate to my heart…or so I thought. A guy could smack me and I would not feel it…it didn’t matter…or so I thought.

And thus, through the years of living and growing, and countless guys in my life, it didn’t matter how many bruises were left on my body or on my soul, it didn’t matter…or so I thought. I was violated on so many levels and I coped by hiding... by being numb, but that doesn't make it okay. Keeping it a secret your whole life doesn't make it go away or mean that it doesn't matter.

Since I became free of drugs, I have dealt with many of these issues over the years…to a certain point. I came to realize that these things that happened in my life, do matter, but there is only so much you can with things that are in the past. Of course there is forgiveness and grace and letting go. Even though I’ve tried so hard to not remember, I am human, with a memory that cannot forget. Maybe I’m not suppose to? Maybe there is another lesson in it for me? Or for someone else along the way?

Removing this layer of smoking has unearthed this truth for me. Standing naked before all of you and the rest of the world has brought me to my knee's... Realizing that as long as I keep hiding behind things like smoking, I will never see clearly what I need to see. Seeing clearly might hurt but in reality it won’t kill me. It's time for me to be truely courageous. It's time for me to face my giants. Much like David when he was fighting Goliath, I must rely on something bigger than me. And that scares the crap out of me.

I feel so caught in the middle right now. I look back to 12 days ago and the safety I felt in my smoking. I had no clue to what lay inside of me and the layer of denial that protected me. Right now, in this moment, my body, soul and mind scream for that familiarity. I feel empty and lost. I am scared. These layers that are exposing themselves to me, leave me naked and robbed. I am feeling. I am crying. I am humbled.

In my mind, I fast forward to what it could be like in 6 months from now. I want to be there. It’s getting from here to there without anything to hang onto. It’s facing “my giants” without false courage, whether it be liquid or on a stick or anything else for that matter. It’s like I am free falling and praying that I land some place soft…some place better.

It's not so much that we're afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it's that place in between that we fear . . . . It's like being between trapezes. It's Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There's nothing to hold on to. Marilyn Ferguson

Thank you for all your kind words of support. Thank you for not judging me or looking down on me. Thank you for your prayers and good thoughts. Thank you for standing with me as I face my giants. Thank you for reaching out your hand to me and pulling me up. I love you guys!

Addiction

I have debated, for the last couple of days, of whether I should write about this or not because I know in doing so, I risk being judged or people not understanding. Since this is my place to write about things in my life and I really need to get this out, I am going for it. I need to vomit this from my soul before it drives me bat shit crazy. Confession is good for the soul, right?

The honest to God truth is, I love smoking. I have had a love affair with smoking for a long time. I started smoking when I was very young and even though I have quit at various times since then, it is the one thing I continuously find myself going back to. I am not proud of this fact.

I could give you a hundred reasons why I love smoking but I’ll just name a few…I enjoy it. It‘s how I deal with stress. It calms me. It’s been my one constant friend. It’s how I celebrated. It’s how I rewarded myself.
It's my escape...my one indulgence that I don't have to share. I could also say it's because it's so part of my nature to like/love those things that are so bad for me.

Smoking has been my vice…my “one” thing that I do. I am not a big drinker, even though I will on occasion, enjoy a few too many. I’ve never like candy all that much. Food has never been my thing(actually been my enemy)…don’t get that much pleasure out of it, even though I do enjoy favorites. I am not a shopper. I don’t care if I buy new things. I don’t get my hair or my nails done. I am not into gambling. I’m not into video games. I’ve not ever had a hobby because of lack of time or desire to find something that interests me. After writing all this, I realize how boring I must sound.

Last September, I shared that I had cut down on smoking and was going to quit. I didn’t. Not only did I not quit, I started smoking even more. Yes, I was disappointed in myself and beat myself up good for it. Regardless, I still enjoyed my love affair with cigarettes. The bottom line is, until 8 days ago, I was smoking and smoking a lot…and I didn’t care.

Last Sunday, I had my last cigarette. At the end of today, I will have gone 8 days without smoking. I quit. I quit because I have had enough. I quit because of the cost…I really cannot afford them. I quit because of how bad they are for my health. I quit because of the example I set for my children and grandchildren and I know how much it bothers them that I smoked. I quit because smoking does not match up with my other life style choices of eating healthy and exercising. It makes me a hypocrite. I quit because my love for “it” has been greater than all these things I listed here and that is just wrong. I quit because not all love affairs are good...they even have an ugly side to them. I quit because it is time.

I have quit before and I don't remember it being this hard. I am determined to beat this addiction because I am tired of it beating me. I would have to say that quitting cigarettes is about as hard as beating my addiction to drugs. My love affair with drugs almost took my life and I cannot stand idly by and let cigarettes do that to me. Cigarettes have controlled my life, much the same way drugs did. I hate admitting this. I hate that I am so weak as to succumb to something that is so bad for me. I hate that I love something that is so bad for me. I hate this.

I am taking one day at a time. I sit here typing and my body hurts from the cravings. My chest hurts worse then it did when I was still smoking. I am so irritable and agitated at times, that it feels like I could come out of my skin. My nervous energy keeps taking away my ability to concentrate and I swear to God, half the time I have diarrhea of the mouth…help, I am talking and I can’t shut up!

I haven’t been able to sleep very well and if I do sleep, I have nightmares. I feel like I have lost my best friend. I feel so sad…I am near tears constantly.

I miss it. I know all of these things are a normal part of withdrawal. I know these things will eventually pass. I know it will get better. But, right now, in this moment, I feel flipping crazy. There is such insanity in addiction. Here I am, flipping nuts over a shit sandwich of my own making and now I have to somehow vomit this completely from my life.

Please don’t judge me. Please don’t lecture me on the harm of smoking. I am well educated on these facts. Please don’t tell me how stupid it is because I am first in line to call it what it is. Please don’t preach at me…in the past, I have preached at myself enough for a hundred preachers. Right now, I am trying to be really good to myself, in spite of how much I might deserve a slap across the head.

My motive in writing this, is to not only vomit this out of myself but to make myself accountable to all of you. I also wrote this in hopes that someone out here in the blogasphere, that has walked in my shoes, would be willing to share with me any tips or advice to help me beat this. I am open to hearing anything you have to say except for lectures or preaching. If you don’t feel comfortable sharing the fact that you are a former smoker in my comments, I understand. Would you please e-mail me instead?

If your someone that prays, I would appreciate your prayers. I believe in the power of prayer and I know it was my faith that saved me in my drug addiction and many other things. Everything that is in me is crying out(I should say screaming out)to be released from this thing that I hate, yet have loved so much. I must kiss this love affair goodbye, once and for all.