So here's more proof that I am still an addict: I've been trying to quit smoking, right? Made it past the two week mark, then had a real bad craving day yesterday. Woke up this morning, tried to meditate and couldn't. On my way to work--which I was already late for--I stopped to buy a pack of cigarettes. I smoked half of one and threw it away because it tasted nasty, made me feel horrible, and my lungs felt awful. Half an hour later, I'm smoking another one. And this time I'm gonna finish it, goddammit.
I'm completely conscious of what I'm doing. I don't want to do it, and yet I'm doing it anyway. I know all the health reasons why I shouldn't. I'm fully aware that I'm doing it to escape and cope and deal with what's happening in life at this moment. And I do it anyway. For those who aren't aware, this is part of the addiction pattern: you want to stop and yet keep on doing it anyway. In all honesty, I'm flat-out amazed I didn't do it last night. And what's more, do I feel better after having a cigarette? Nope. It doesn't help. It doesn't work for me anymore. And I do it anyway.
My mind fishes out a memory of trying to quit smoking when I was still married. When I relapsed, she'd said to me, "I knew you weren't strong enough to quit." Thank God that, in the rooms of Recovery, we don't shoot our wounded.
Some people might argue that a relapse on smoking cigarettes isn't that big of a deal. Then again, some people say cigarettes are more addictive than heroin. I suspect that most heroin addicts would tell you to fuck off if you said that to them. Relapse on drugs or alcohol isn't part of my story (yet), but I know a fair bit about it. There is a natural progression that happens. And I can look at my life in this moment and see what's going on with me that I'm where I'm at with these evil cancer sticks.
Work. Is really. Pissing. Me. Off. Wait, wait, let's rephrase that properly: I'm really pissed off about my work situation. (Better.) Actually, it's not so much that I'm pissed off as it is that I'm feeling such a strong sense of futility. I'd felt so optimistic, so hopeful for my music, and today the reality I've always had such a hard time accepting is really hard to accept: that most people hate their jobs; that I just have to do it because it's part of life. And, of course, there's all the added instability of these economic times, the fact that I'm only a temp right now and don't know how much longer I will be working, and the stress of the job itself.
It's not all about the job. There are issues in my personal life, with my family, a strained relationship with my sponsor, and what it's like for me, what happens with me, is a sense of futility begins to set in. Why. Bother.
Depression is not where I'm at, but it is a state I know very well. I've spent many, many hours frustrated with this life thing. There is anger at the world, unable or willing to accept it as it is; there is anger at myself for feeling how I feel; anger at imagined voices that tell me to get over myself and stop whining; and as I write all this I hear a new thought come into my mind... that I'm pissed off because I'm being reminded just how powerless I really am.
Thank God for that. Because this is something I know how to deal with.
I am still powerless over the people, places, and things I can't control. My life is still unmanageable. When I try to control, when I try to run things, I go insane. My job is to let go; to let God take care of it. I can't do it. He can. So let him.
Sometimes, faith is easy. Sometimes not. Sometimes, faith sounds like this:
"Okay, God; I really don't like what's going on right now and I really don't understand it. And for the life of me I really can't figure out what you're up to. But if you show me the path, I will walk it. Tell me which way to go. Reveal to me the next step to take. Give me knowledge of your will and the power to carry it out. My life belongs to you. I give you my will to do with as you see fit. Move me; help me to be your instrument and do your will in the world. Cause ya know, if I try to do my will, all I'm gonna do is fuck shit up. Amen."
Hmm... I think I just might print that prayer up and post it on my bedroom wall.
((Update: after I wrote this entry, I took the rest of the pack of cigarettes I'd bought and threw them in a dumpster.))
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