Thursday, May 05, 2005
If I need you I'll just use your simple name.
All is well, I believe. I must admit I went through a brief depression the last couple weeks, but I'm OK now.
It was the weirdest thing. One night I was in this horrible mood. Just couldn't shake it. My boss asked me if I was OK.
I told him, "You know I love my life." Because I say that all the time, and mean it. I do. "I love my life. I go to school. I listen to pop-punk a lot. I love my friends. I keep a relatively drama-free existence. But then it was like Drama knocked on my door, and I was like 'Come on in. Everything's fine in here.' Just opened up my door and let it in."
And I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. Or hypocrite. Or the saddest. Like someone who gives up.
Some things are worth giving up. I gave up smoking once.
After smoking for five years, I quit. May 20, 2002. I'll never forget it. The first few weeks of learning to do without it. The way beer tasted differently. And going to parties. And restaurants. And just being social in general. And waking up in the morning. Because smoking, like so many other things, becomes a status thing. Becomes a routine. And I had spent so much of my young life as a smoker I wasn't sure whom I would be if I wasn't one.
For awhile I was a better me. I ate right. I had lots of energy. I started working out. I hung out with "healthy" people. I loved the first time I dated a guy who didn't smoke after years of being a smoker and then dating a smoker after I quit. We could both go sit in nonsmoking and have a margarita. It was just nice.
It had been so long since I'd had a cigarette that I didn't get why my friends smoked anymore when we'd hang out. I'd forgotten what it was like. In my head I was like, What are they doing? What are they getting out of that?
When I started again I remembered. I liked smoking. I always smoked a lot. Doesn't help that it's a legally addictive substance. I enjoyed smoking for a while. But I know why I quit. And I know I will quit again. And for good. Because I liked having energy. I liked feeling good about myself. And not smelling the smoke on my own clothes.
So sometimes, it's easy to think of what you're missing. The grass is always greener, some type of thing. But the beauty of being a human instead of a fish is that if you want you can have more than a three second memory, or something like that. I'm no expert on fish.
The beauty is in that you can remind yourself. You can keep those memories real tight in your chest and find strength in them at the exact moment you need it no matter what external force is present, and no matter who else understands, or fails to understand.
I had a moment like that. An epiphany I guess. And I am better now.
Just needed to take a moment to remind myself where I was going and where I had been. It's OK to look both ways now.
All is well, I believe. I must admit I went through a brief depression the last couple weeks, but I'm OK now.
It was the weirdest thing. One night I was in this horrible mood. Just couldn't shake it. My boss asked me if I was OK.
I told him, "You know I love my life." Because I say that all the time, and mean it. I do. "I love my life. I go to school. I listen to pop-punk a lot. I love my friends. I keep a relatively drama-free existence. But then it was like Drama knocked on my door, and I was like 'Come on in. Everything's fine in here.' Just opened up my door and let it in."
And I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. Or hypocrite. Or the saddest. Like someone who gives up.
Some things are worth giving up. I gave up smoking once.
After smoking for five years, I quit. May 20, 2002. I'll never forget it. The first few weeks of learning to do without it. The way beer tasted differently. And going to parties. And restaurants. And just being social in general. And waking up in the morning. Because smoking, like so many other things, becomes a status thing. Becomes a routine. And I had spent so much of my young life as a smoker I wasn't sure whom I would be if I wasn't one.
For awhile I was a better me. I ate right. I had lots of energy. I started working out. I hung out with "healthy" people. I loved the first time I dated a guy who didn't smoke after years of being a smoker and then dating a smoker after I quit. We could both go sit in nonsmoking and have a margarita. It was just nice.
It had been so long since I'd had a cigarette that I didn't get why my friends smoked anymore when we'd hang out. I'd forgotten what it was like. In my head I was like, What are they doing? What are they getting out of that?
When I started again I remembered. I liked smoking. I always smoked a lot. Doesn't help that it's a legally addictive substance. I enjoyed smoking for a while. But I know why I quit. And I know I will quit again. And for good. Because I liked having energy. I liked feeling good about myself. And not smelling the smoke on my own clothes.
So sometimes, it's easy to think of what you're missing. The grass is always greener, some type of thing. But the beauty of being a human instead of a fish is that if you want you can have more than a three second memory, or something like that. I'm no expert on fish.
The beauty is in that you can remind yourself. You can keep those memories real tight in your chest and find strength in them at the exact moment you need it no matter what external force is present, and no matter who else understands, or fails to understand.
I had a moment like that. An epiphany I guess. And I am better now.
Just needed to take a moment to remind myself where I was going and where I had been. It's OK to look both ways now.
1 Comments:
Aw, thank you Stefan.
I'm back!!!
