Sometimes it’s Okay to Give Up

 

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Through some harsh life battles, I can count many a day where I was ready to give up.  Throw in the towel.  Just be done.  Depression is horrific and the voices running through your mind actually ENCOURAGE you to give up.  That’s right, not only do you feel like shit, your “inner you” is trying to make you give up the fight.

I honestly don’t know how I’ve made it through all of those times.  Probably my great support system, medications, therapy, and a lot of just white-knuckling it.  There’s a blog I read, in which the author keeps finding herself on the verge of giving up, giving in to depression and anxiety and fear.  I get that, totally do.  I especially can see how having no one on your side would make you feel that way even more.

Because sometimes, the only reason I don’t give up, is because I worry what would happen to Kizzie.  Sure, DSB would take care of her, but her momma would be GONE.  Giving up, following through and really doing it — that’s permanent.  There’s no coming back from that kind of giving up.  And I’ve lived years skirting that edge.  The things that kept me from stepping over the line were invariably my parents and my pup.  And now there’s DSB to think about, too.

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The quote above really speaks to me.  Something about trusting your own madness is very right, and it’s something I’ve only come to embrace within the last year or so.  If we don’t trust in ourselves, we find any way possible to keep the truth from coming out.  About our (actual and literal)  madness, about our shady intentions, about hidden secrets.

Something I have given up, for good, is lying.  Being dishonest in any way.  I am now and forever more completely transparent.  Before DSB, lying was like breathing to me.  I did it without thinking, without reason, just because.  It usually didn’t even register to me that I had lied.  It was just something I did.  I spun a tale to make myself look better, mostly.  Or to make myself look a certain way, at least.  I didn’t trust enough to show my true colors.  I wasn’t true to my real madness, if you will.

About a year ago, DSB sat me down and we had “the real talk.”  More of a “come-to-Jesus” talk, as my mom would put it.  He told me that he knew I was lying about a lot of things, and about how he didn’t trust me anymore.  He told me that he couldn’t be with a person he didn’t trust, but he wanted to be with me.  I had to change my lying ways so that he would stay.  It was the biggest motivator of all time.  I didn’t want to lose him, and I knew that all of the lies I told were destroying me.

What I didn’t realize was the extent to which the lies and deceit were destroying me.  I was constantly on guard, worried about who was going to find out what, worrying about what would happen when they did find out, because they always did.  I have always been a poor liar — ever since I was a little girl.

I am reflecting upon this now, because for the past several nights, out of nowhere, I have found myself checking my gut for signs of anything amiss.  It used to be, I had so much to worry about.  And now I don’t.  Everything’s out there for the world to see.  I am not suffering any consequences, because, in general, I am doing nothing wrong.  This is a new world to me, and even though this has been going on for over a year, it feels like I’m just now noticing.

Noticing how nice it feels to just have a conversation and not make things up that I will have to account for later.  Noticing how much more trust and faith DSB has in me, in the words I say, in the actions I show.  There is no more worry, and there is no more fear.

Sometimes it’s ok to give up.  It’s ok to give up lying, drinking, cheating, negative things.  It’s even good.  It’s never okay to give up on yourself, and I am so very thankful to know DSB always always ALWAYS has my back.  And I am the reason he is still here and my quitting the lying is the only way we made things better.  Things are better for everyone, now.  Everyone was affected by my lying, and my relationships are now very uncomplicated.  For that, I am truly grateful.

 

Wherein I Come Clean About Smoking

I quit smoking toward the end of December this past year.  For the most part, I did pretty well, considering.  I had a few slip-ups, but nothing major.  I struggled, fought, and pretty soon it became easier, if not just plain easy some days.

I reveled in the non-smoking life.  I could breathe, I wasn’t coughing all the time, my hair smelled good.  I could smell a cigarette at 50 yards and, at times, I could have sworn I was allergic to cigarette smoke.  The secondhand smoke just affected me that much.

Toward the end of January, things started getting difficult.  DSB’s health was to take a turn for the worse, and that stress-free life I so enjoyed was over.  I had become complacent about my quit, too.  Not changing my patch when I should, not popping a lozenge when my brain told me I wanted a cigarette, not blogging about the struggle.  I lost track of the fight within me to stay quit, and I got lost somewhere.

It started out with just stealing a cigarette here and there.  Within the last two weeks, I’ve been buying a pack here and there, smoking a couple, a dozen, the whole pack here and there.  Cigarettes are an addictive bitch, and I’m not talking about the nicotine.  For the past two days, at home with an immobile DSB (health problems out the ying-yang, oh yeah!), waiting on him hand and foot, doing nothing but trying to run this house all by myself, I’ve smoked regularly.

And my body is pissed.  And I am pissed.  I’m coughing and hacking and I reek of cigarette smoke.  I started to think about how great I felt in December and most of the way through January.  How good it felt to be quit, how nice the air was moving in and out of my lungs, how my wind was better, how I had more energy.

They are absolutely fucking right when they tell you that quitting smoking now will greatly reduce serious risks to your health.  And you feel amazing.  I think the Surgeon General should put that on the pack, too:  If you quit, you will feel amazing.  Part of it is that you’re not smoking and part of it is that you tackled a huge beast and you are WINNING.

I’ve been lying in bed reading The Orange Buffalo by Grayson Queen, which so far has been amazing, and he is writing about (in this particular section) about drinking and disillusionment and the quest for perfection, and Grayson Queen helped me (about 15 minutes ago) to have my own personal epiphany.

I do NOT want to smoke.  I do not want to be a smoker.  I want to quit and have healthy lungs and live to see my nephew grow up and get married and have kids of his own.  I don’t want to sneak around with cigarettes and lighters and be a smelly, smoky mess.

The other part of this personal epiphany, is that, yes, life has become quite stressful and that I, however, do not have to feed it.  I can deal with it, I can manage.  Without cigarettes.  And without a bipolar meltdown.

My personal epiphany:  I am happier without cigarettes.  I feel empowered when I don’t smoke.  I like the non-smoking Rosa better than the chain-smoking Rosa.  And I definitely like the not-sneaking-around Rosa better than the sneaking-around one.

I have come to far to start telling lies again.  I have come too far to give up this quit.  I’ll be restarting that fight, effective 23 minutes ago.  I will wake up in the morning, and I will not smoke, no matter what.  I have patches and lozenges and I will use my tools.

 

Less Pressure, But Still Obsessed

Wellpers, as  you all know, NaBloPoMo is over.  When I first started, I kinda thought, after the dust had cleared, that I’d take a long blogging break.  What I didn’t realize is how ADDICTIVE writing and reading other posts and making new bloggie friends would be.  Putting my thoughts on paper every day gives me a great way to track how I’m doing and to see where I need to modify my behavior, for better or worse, to come out smellin’ like roses.

Thanksgiving week was pure hell (and it’s not over, because I don’t count Sunday as the first day of the week), and I think most of that had to do with DSB’s refusal (up to the bitter end) of Thanksgiving festivities, and the fact that I had just quit smoking.  And I have learned a lot about both of those things here within the past week.

What I have learned about DSB’s refusal of Thanksgiving is that he genuinely doesn’t like attending.  He doesn’t like all the people and he doesn’t like the family dynamic.  Even my fairly “normal” family (as in, we generally get along) bothered him, although it is altogether possible that some people were being bigger assholes than usual.  It’s the hormones, the lack of nicotine, the protectiveness…it’s all of that and it’s ugly when you throw it in the mixing bowl and stir.

I’m not sure if DSB will “do” Christmas yet or not.  I hope he does, because it means a lot to me, and selfishly so, I hope he would just sacrifice and go anyway.  Good gawd that sounds terrible, but it’s what I wish for and no one said what I wish for had to be nice.  What I truly wish is that DSB could get caught up in the beauty of the season and forget all that little petty BS.

Now let’s take the quitting smoking.  It has been rough and bumpy, but is overall going quite well.  Yes, I have slipped a few times and had a cigarette, so my quit hasn’t been perfect, but I still think that’s pretty good.  I’ve gone from smoking three packs a day down to maybe 1.25 cigarettes a day, and some days none.  I think I have to give myself props for that even though there are a lot of naysayers out there.

And to them, I really just want to say, “Eff you.”  Because seriously, you have no idea how  hard this is.  You have no idea what I am going through right now and I hope you never have to wean yourself off what is perhaps the most powerfully addictive substance on the planet.  Studies indicate nicotine is more powerful than heroin, crack, and meth.  And how many people succeed in getting off those things?  Not tons, folks.

So, what I ask of those people, is to cut me a little slack.  Be extra kind to me.  Go out of your way to avoid me if you can’t say something nice and encouraging.  Even the most well-meaning people can be complete dicks when it comes to something like this.  Don’t tell me I’m not doing this right when you can’t even manage to quit your Oreo cookie habit.  Don’t tell me I’m not doing this right when you can’t even manage to go a day without drinking.  And don’t tell me I’m not doing this right if you haven’t done it before.

Well, now that I’m all wound up, I think I’ll go throw some dishes around and hope they shatter on the floor.  Now THAT would be good stress relief (if only DSB would clean up the mess).  😀