Yup. I said it. I am a big old baby. I know what’s coming. Anxiety and Depression, as if I don’t already face that enough. Stress and a wave of emotions that have me up and down like someone who is genuinely Manic Depressive, which I am not typically.
In short, a fucking roller coaster. I don’t want to deal with it. I also know however, that cancer is just around the corner if I don’t quit. It’s fucking inevitable, it’s in my family, it’s in my bloodline, and there is no way I get out of this life without some kind of long, drawn out, and dramatic exit
. I mean….have you read my blog? I am a fucking Drama Queen, so it would be inevitable karma, that I end up being one of the millions who end up with Cancer.
But I am afraid.
I can hear a voice in my head whispering “get over it you big ass baby,“
But I am not ready. I am not ready to give up the single solitary coping mechanism that I have had since I was twelve years old. When I didn’t have friends, when I didn’t have family, when my dad was smacking me around or throwing me down the stairs, I had smoking.
It’s always been there like this toxic hug ready and willing to accept me when no one else in the world will, and therein lies the problem with comfort.
When we get too comfortable, we get complacent and we forget to do the things that matter to better us and help us continue this thing called rising.
No matter what I have been through, smoking has always been there, it has been my absolute best friend. That’s a hard relationship to break when you haven’t had anything else to cushion the blow of some of the experiences that I have had.
So the trick is to find something to push those buttons, the trick is to find something that gives you the same or a similar sense of comfort, without causing you harm.
How the fuck do you do that?
I mean sure, I could theoretically replace smoking with working out, that would be healthy, but I have absolutely zero desire to do that. My weight has become another comfort for me, it’s the one thing that I am in charge of, that can’t be changed or altered by anyone but me in the world.
It has become my armor against the world and as much as I hate how much of it I have put on, I also recognize that I don’t like repeating myself.
Last year I lost a ton of weight, I worked out by going for hikes around Vancouver, BC. I walked circles around that city all summer long, when winter came I stopped going for walks, and I started taking a new medication that added a shit ton of weight to my body.
The thing is, I lost weight. I did that, it’s like writing the book, i wrote the book, I don’t need to do that again for awhile because I just did it.
I don’t like repeating myself. I went to the gym once.
I had no interest in doing it again, I find nothing fun about talking to my girlfriend while we work out. I find absolutely no joy in working out in a room full of strangers. “Okay but no one likes working out,” yeah then why do it? I have made a concentrated effort to not do the things that I don’t want to fucking do.
When I quit working in the Church, I decided then and there that I was never again going to do the things that I didn’t want to do.
I wasn’t going to listen to people telling me that I was going to hell for being a Witch, or blaming me for being sexually abused.
I wasn’t going to put up with people who say stupid shit like “get over it“, when it comes to being abused.
I was legit no longer going to do the things that damaged my soul, and that was such a freeing experience.
It gave me this sense of power over my life that I had never really felt like I had. I no longer had to participate in day camp which ultimately always made me sad because of some of the struggles that the kids and their families dealt with on a daily basis.
I was no longer going to work with entitled day camp leaders, who said stupid shit like “I’m so entitled I don’t know how to make a sandwich” Yes, that actually happened.
I am no longer going to be around people, places and things, that tear down my soul, and while I know smoking is unhealthy for me, I just can’t bring myself to go through the emotional break down I will have when I finally do cut the butt for real.
That being said, I am fully aware that I am working this up into my mind to be a hurricane style shit storm of epic proportions when it’s probably not even going to be that bad, so that hasn’t helped.
I find when we’re afraid of doing or being something, that’s usually because it’s precisely where we are meant to be, and that can be fucking terrifying.
Because what next? When you’ve finally achieved all your dreams, hopes, goals and wishes, what comes after that? The expectation that you can do anything you set your mind to has always been a bit overwhelming to me.
Because frankly my mind isn’t as strong as I’d like it to be, I spend a great deal of time arguing with myself about the things I want to say, versus what I actually say. I often imagine scenarios that don’t show off the best possible version of myself, and I am absolutely terrified to let anyone down.
Fear I admit, controls a great deal of my life, and it’s something that I am genuinely working on, it’s difficult for me though because I am not used to being afraid.
I have always shown power and conviction in the face of fear, it’s only recently that fear in general has made me…stop and think before I act or speak.
I think the switch came the time that that thing happened and I almost died. I think that was the trigger that made me really appreciate and understand the delicate nature that is our existence as humans.
I am more aware of how fragile I am now, especially because of that thing that had happened that one time. I am aware that I am not going to live forever, and that scares the shit out of me. But nothing scares me more than being a hundred years old, still smoking ciggarettes.
Yes, I plan to live to be one hundred, because…damnit, I fucking deserve a long life after what I’ve been through and yet even as I write this I am considering pouring salt into my hand and taking a nice deep swallow as I light a ciggarette.
God I am one seriously unhealthy bitch.
Sending all my love,
Devon J Hall