Maybe April: Day Three

I saw him do it

When I was young, I stayed with my father’s family. Mommy and daddy had me young, they struggled with addiction, they were in and out of my life until their untimely death. Many say they wouldn’t have made it that far if they didn’t have each other – it was their codependency that kept them alive. Mom’s family was riddled with alcoholics. It made sense for me to stay with my father’s family.

It’s a curious thing growing under these circumstances. No one tells you anything, you kind of piece it together all by yourself – with your tiny childlike mind. Tiny broken facts gathered from eavesdropping sprees. You sit with this and find a way to make it your own. How else are you to carry on? It’s the only truth you have. When people ask, you’re not quiet sure how much to tell them. You’d think invested grownups would tell you how to deal with it. How would they, how could they, when they themselves haven’t spoken to you about any of it.

My granny died just before my second birthday. I’ve seen so many pictures, I wish I remembered her, from what I hear she was a wonderful woman. It’s a strange thing, her death – everyone just says, ‘she went in her sleep’. I wonder if there more to it, was she sick? Everyone’s comfortable just leaving it there.

Then there’s my uncle, the man who raised me. It was wonderful living with uncle Jeff. He’d always make his girlfriends bring me something when they came over for a visit. There was a range of them – a mixed bag of skittles. I couldn’t keep up – it didn’t matter, my affections depended on what they’d bring me. I remember this one lady brought me a ragdoll. I remember thinking it was a clown at first. I loved that ragdoll. I might have had a name for it. I guess I still can – Bev, not short for anything, just Bev.

My life/upbringing is nothing like this. I wonder if it could’ve been. Our lives really could’ve been different to what they are now. All stemming from decisions taken before we had any say in them. I have a say now – in what my life can look like. I just got to break free from all those other decisions. Break free isn’t the right word maybe. Maybe make do, make something of my reality, to create a new one?

P.S. I titled this ‘I saw him do it’ to hold myself accountable, I’m a witness to my own life. I see you!

Today was an amazing day!!!

Day three done!

The love of your life

A distinction

 

I’m 29 now. I remember the first time(s) I fell in love. Between 20 and 22, with two different people. Before these loves, I was completely oblivious to what it was.

I’m now in a loving relationship. It’s going stronger by the day and I’m happy.

The other day my friends asked me if he’s the love of my life. I said no, without much hesitation. He’s the great love of my life, I said.

Those four words, LOVE OF MY LIFE, describe to me what happened between 20 and 22 with those two individuals. The experiences with them were very different. In one situation it was unrequited love, it was acknowledged but not necessarily returned. In the second instant it was everything, I was given mind, body and soul.

 

This is how I experienced the loves of my life whether things were good or bad:

• The sound of a door opening, I hoped it was them.
• A beep on my phone, I hoped it was them.
• When I turned a corner, I hoped they were on the other side.
• Elevator doors opening, I hoped it was them inside.
• In public spaces, it was them I hoped to see.
• Footsteps.
• My name hollered.

See this was everywhere. It wasn’t a thing of logic. My body had physical reactions to what I was feeling, a lot of adrenaline. I spent three years anticipating. Every single time it wasn’t them, my heart would sink in disappointment. Knowing this disappointment wasn’t enough; the anticipation would come back, as strong, over and over again. So many moments of breathlessness.

This is what my life was. Excitement, anticipation, disappointment. It was heroin.  I swear there were times when I thought I was going to throw up.

 

These feelings quelled over time, as most things do. I however wanted to replicate this. This is what I knew as love. I was still addicted to that rush.

It never happened. For years it never happened. I thought I’d reached my love quota. I’d peaked too early.

I then found the great love of my life. A knowing came over me. I always knew. He was the one around the corner, I always knew it was him calling/texting, I knew his footsteps – it was always him. This is, again, how it always is, whether things are good or bad.

 

I’d rather this. From heroin to kale.

 

 

Ye Cigarettes My Addiction/Lifestyle/Habit

So here’s the thing, I’m a smoker. I’ve been on the cancer sticks since 2007 and man what can I say, it’s been great.  Nothing beats sucking on all that death when I’m tightly wound up and just need to calm down. Feels good just holding it and seeing the Grim Reaper’s soot leave my lungs, body and mouth; gives me such a good realise. Don’t even get me started on a good smoke after sex.

Problem is…smoking is disgusting!!! It’s honestly one of the grossest of vices. We all know this. It doesn’t even matter why people smoke, which is by the way a stupid question. I always want to kick people in their teeth when they ask me that question. But I guess it’s somewhat of a perplexity for people who don’t do it. But there’s hope. I’m glad to announce that I’m well on my way to quitting.

The last cigarette I had was on the 4^th of December 2011. I wasn’t even planning on quitting. Thing is I had one of those weekends where I smoked like British American Tobacco had me on retainer. Between Friday and Sunday I had a little over 40 cigarettes. Pretty vile innit? On Sunday evening, I spat out phlegm that tasted and felt like an active ingredient in an atomic bomb. Just like that I knew that I don’t ever want to have that taste in my mouth ever again.

It’s been great really, I don’t crave a cigarette, it’s more like I want one. There are key moments in my everyday living when I just feel and think to myself “now this right here is a Marlboro light moment”. But the moments pass and I soon get over it. Today is slightly different though. I’m feeling somewhat uneasy.

I’m meeting up with one of my best mates. We’ve been smoking together for ages. It’ part of our repertoire. Conversation, fag and drink. We’ve been pees in a pot for over four years now and (not to pull a statistic out of my ass) 80% of the time we’ve been together has been shared with death’s little agents. I feel like I’ll be messing with the dynamic of our friendship if I refuse to have a fag. When I say dynamic, I mean it purely on a superficial level. As shallow as it is, we are a very superficial people.

Oh, I should also mention that I also decided to stop drinking. But I have no real cause for that except that drinking makes me crave a cigarette like you won’t imagine. It’s like a free hooker’s oral fixation in there, quite bad. Now I know my friend and 99.99% of all my friends will have none of that. So I’ll just drink in moderation today and try by all means to avoid smoking. If I should decide to fag, I won’t be too hard on myself. Good thing about this particular friend is that I only get to see her once a month. So it’s worth it. I think…

P.S. My friend and I aren’t your average smokers. We’re actually fit people who exercise regularly. We don’t look anything like smokers and have often been told we look much younger than we are. Yes smoking will catch up with us (well more her, coz I’m kinda done), but when we turn back to have a look…we still have a solid twenty years. I should say, she’s a doctor she can back it up.

P.P.S Fuck you!!! You know who you are. I wish you would read this here post and know that this “fuck you” is for you. This is for making me feel like less of a human because of this, my one flaw (at least the only obvious one). #BitterEx