time has no meaning in the healing process. ~algonquin

despite my decades of devotion to the church of psychotherapy, i still find it absurd that, at 70 year of age, i am still arguing with my estranged mother, 9 years after her death. sigh. . . it is what it  is, whether i understand it, or knot.

the great smoking debate is our most developed argument. my morbidly obese mother was such a rabid anti-smoker that 10 of her 11 children are all devout smokers. yes, myself included. i know, i know. i should be a quitter. i know, i know. free quit programs are available. yes, mother, go ahead and leave the latest pamphlets and articles in conspicuous places. they are not the meanest of the clutter you have left in my life.

i don't care to do the research on the global norms, but in my strictly personal 100%, morbid obesity is an increasingly common trait among the anti-smokers currently carrying my mother's message beyond her grave. she pressured herself to lose weight as she pressured smokers to quit.

recent mornings have found me wondering if the entire controversy can be summarized as "losers vs quitters." both labels have been huge in my psychotic wonderland. "loser" is heavily present in my white trash heritage. "quitter" is heavily present in my flight patterns.

i'm not sure what i am reaching for here. reality checks needed and appreciated. feel free to leave your stacks of pamplets and articles.

today i leave the mood icon squarely on "okay." yeah, it's a dizzy dance, but methinks i am taking it in stride.