Taking Care of me
3.25.12 8:35 PM Why am I so scared to stop smoking weed? I’ve been sober before and it was always great – ALWAYS. There’s no exception to that rule. I started smoking weed at 15 and I think I became a full blown pothead at about 17. Since then I’ve quit several times. Not smoking has always been better than smoking. So why am I so scared to quit?
I think it’s the addiction. I’m physically and psychologically addicted to weed. So I buy the lie. The lie being that I need it. This is gonna sound superfucked- but I really believe I’m scared of success. I self-sabotage like nobody’s business. Why? B/c I don’t love myself? I know I can do this. I know I can be okay. So why am I so scared?
Before I left my house tonight I started feeling the old familiar anxiety that I always feel when I try to leave there in order to do something productive that will actually help me in life instead of sitting there and wallowing in my misery and self-loathing. And I asked ‘Why?’ out loud. Finally it came to me- I feel like a failure for not being able to get my ma to stop drinking. There’s no question as to what is better- going to my office or being home- going to the office trumps- hands fucking down. It’s my zen place and I feel so truly blessed to have it. But on the weekends and every morning it’s hard as fuck for me to get here. I’ve never truly known why that is. I’ve guessed at it for a long time- what seems like forever- and once and a while I get glimpses of why- but never anything coherent. What I have noticed is that once my room is clean I’m able to leave. Odd I know. So today it hit me- one of the traits of being an ACOA is that “we reach adulthood believing we failed, unable to see no one can stop the traumatic effects of family alcohol.” I feel like a failure. B/c my ma’s a drunk. And no matter what I do I can’t fix her. My condo has become just like Goshen (my dad’s home) was. I moved into my dad’s when I was 12 and left when I was 20. During that time My ma, dad, brother, and I lived there. And it was hellish. Then at 20 my father kicked my ma out and I went with her. I remember feeling this unbelievable sense of hope- like someone had answered my prayers. And at the same time I felt like I was abandoning my father when I left. I remember calling him from work and crying my eyes out. I worked at GE at the time.
Then we got to my ma’s condo. And it was like a dream at first. It took me a few months to stop living on the defensive- but I got there. And the healing from my hellish childhood had begun. Then about a year later she got cancer. That sucked. I remember her crying her eyes out from chemo. I shaved her head. I dressed her wound from the surgery. I took care of her and I was very thankful that I was able to do that. Then I left there when I was 26 and I was never supposed to come back. It was hard leaving home. But after about a year I came to absolutely love it. And then it happened- my ma hooked up w my stepfather again and started drinking. We’ll fast forward until now. She’s an alcoholic and she’s just like my dad.
So back to the original story- I was sitting there feeling like I always do when I try to leave- sucked in, stuck- like I’m in quicksand and the harder I move the more I sink. It’s like this barrier I have to breakthrough and its superfucked. And I realized why today. The reason I need to clean my room and do the laundry and make sure everything is clean in my room is b/c I currently equate clean w perfect and I’m trying to make my life perfect. When I look at a mess it’s like my throat starts to close up. Then I either say fuck it and nap or smoke- or I clean it up. And when I do it feels like everything is okay again. But no matter how many things I clean- I can’t clean up my ma’s life. I can’t fix her. It’s not my job to. It’s never been my job. No matter how long I stay- I can’t fix people. I’m not a failure b/c of it. I wasn’t put here to fix people. I was put here to take care of me.
I think it’s the addiction. I’m physically and psychologically addicted to weed. So I buy the lie. The lie being that I need it. This is gonna sound superfucked- but I really believe I’m scared of success. I self-sabotage like nobody’s business. Why? B/c I don’t love myself? I know I can do this. I know I can be okay. So why am I so scared?
Before I left my house tonight I started feeling the old familiar anxiety that I always feel when I try to leave there in order to do something productive that will actually help me in life instead of sitting there and wallowing in my misery and self-loathing. And I asked ‘Why?’ out loud. Finally it came to me- I feel like a failure for not being able to get my ma to stop drinking. There’s no question as to what is better- going to my office or being home- going to the office trumps- hands fucking down. It’s my zen place and I feel so truly blessed to have it. But on the weekends and every morning it’s hard as fuck for me to get here. I’ve never truly known why that is. I’ve guessed at it for a long time- what seems like forever- and once and a while I get glimpses of why- but never anything coherent. What I have noticed is that once my room is clean I’m able to leave. Odd I know. So today it hit me- one of the traits of being an ACOA is that “we reach adulthood believing we failed, unable to see no one can stop the traumatic effects of family alcohol.” I feel like a failure. B/c my ma’s a drunk. And no matter what I do I can’t fix her. My condo has become just like Goshen (my dad’s home) was. I moved into my dad’s when I was 12 and left when I was 20. During that time My ma, dad, brother, and I lived there. And it was hellish. Then at 20 my father kicked my ma out and I went with her. I remember feeling this unbelievable sense of hope- like someone had answered my prayers. And at the same time I felt like I was abandoning my father when I left. I remember calling him from work and crying my eyes out. I worked at GE at the time.
Then we got to my ma’s condo. And it was like a dream at first. It took me a few months to stop living on the defensive- but I got there. And the healing from my hellish childhood had begun. Then about a year later she got cancer. That sucked. I remember her crying her eyes out from chemo. I shaved her head. I dressed her wound from the surgery. I took care of her and I was very thankful that I was able to do that. Then I left there when I was 26 and I was never supposed to come back. It was hard leaving home. But after about a year I came to absolutely love it. And then it happened- my ma hooked up w my stepfather again and started drinking. We’ll fast forward until now. She’s an alcoholic and she’s just like my dad.
So back to the original story- I was sitting there feeling like I always do when I try to leave- sucked in, stuck- like I’m in quicksand and the harder I move the more I sink. It’s like this barrier I have to breakthrough and its superfucked. And I realized why today. The reason I need to clean my room and do the laundry and make sure everything is clean in my room is b/c I currently equate clean w perfect and I’m trying to make my life perfect. When I look at a mess it’s like my throat starts to close up. Then I either say fuck it and nap or smoke- or I clean it up. And when I do it feels like everything is okay again. But no matter how many things I clean- I can’t clean up my ma’s life. I can’t fix her. It’s not my job to. It’s never been my job. No matter how long I stay- I can’t fix people. I’m not a failure b/c of it. I wasn’t put here to fix people. I was put here to take care of me.
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