Writing not smoking

Slept like a rock, woke up crying, avoided loved ones – hugged others.

10:09am – Today’s post is written in parts throughout the day when I’m most inclined to roll up or go out to buy smoking materials. Although it’s not been a full 24hrs since my last regretful, shameful, not-worth-it-one-bit spliff; I’m just glad I have something to do with my hands right now.

This morning I woke up early, had no dreams again, then cried when I remembered I was alive and trapped in an active addiction. Weed, cigarettes and even love are my drugs of choice. Coffee too, but I’m nowhere near ready to even consider saying goodbye to my beloved sunrise seductress. We’ve been through too much.

So I peeled myself from the sheets and tearfully wrote my morning pages; lots of “blabla I hate myself, blabla woe is me, blabla I don’t know what to do’s”. He woke up to the sound of my tears and sniffles and smacks on the head, and he asked me to tell him what’s wrong. Defiant, avoidant, unwilling to enter yet another triggering emotional discussion – I dressed myself in silence and went to my favorite 7am dance class, hoping that a change of environment would shake away some of the cobwebs.

Walking around with this much emotional weight honestly feels like I’m returning from warfare. I used to be hot, though I never knew it at the time. Now when I see my reflections and photos or even just feel my curls catch my lashes in the rim of my reading glasses – I see a worn out corpse. No amount of vitamin C serum or collagen tablets will unstitch the eyebags from my hollow cheekbones. Dance class followed the same theme – self-critique, apathy, lack of enthusiasm and a croaky lump in my throat from tears held back.

My best friend (and teacher!) took me for coffee after and let me snot cry into her shoulder. I admit what I hate is that I sedated myself into a relationship decision I feel ill-equipped to decide upon while using. My gut is screaming but I can’t hear her over my anxiety belching. Is it impulsive to end a relationship before I’ve even worked on it? How long should two work on it before handing in their respective his and her towels?

Last night I held his gorgeous face in my hands and cried and cried looking in to his eyes, begging to learn how to argue with him constructively. He’s helped me be a more patient, accepting, open-minded and tolerant person. He helped me end an abusive relationship and incentivizes me to be healthy through exercise, meditation and tropical meals overflowing with vitamins. He told me how much I helped him be a better person, more organized, more driven, more social. I’ve given him hope in a world where he lacked it all. These are facts that make me MAD when inclined to burn everything to the ground and run away.

He tried to cheer me up by deep-cleaning the flat while I was at class. It worked, we hugged and I felt held, seen, supported. That was actually a task I was saving to do today instead of self-hatred, but now I can type and type and type.

7 paragraphs and it’s not even lunch time. I’m going to go for a walk now to buy a bubble blower that I might use in place of a cigarette.

10:55pm Never mind any of that, I took three tests earlier, and am pregnant.