09 August 2013

My Dirty Little Secret.

Many say that it is a disgusting habit, and I being an “off and on” smoker now for 8 years have my own opinions. But the truth of the matter is that different people smoke for different reasons. Most people are honestly addicted to nicotine while others simply cannot let go of the repetitious behavior that is the act of smoking. Some people smoke so infrequently that they still get that high with every cigarette while others do it for social reasons.

Tobacco companies know all the different reasons people smoke and are doing all they can to see to it that no matter how high the taxes get on a pack of smokes, people will want to feel the need to keep lighting up.

At birth I was thrust into a world where I would have a permanent memory of the havoc that cigarette abuse can cause to a person. My grandfather was already on a respirator and confined to bed with emphysema. My mother and grandmother explained as soon as they thought I would understand that pop pop was in his condition because he smoked cigarettes.

I fell in love with my grandfather, he was such a sweet and kind hearted man that to this day when you mention him people are quick to share a story of how awesome he was. I would sit in his room and we would talk for hours or watch TV. He loved the company and I just loved being around him. He would sometimes slip me candy before dinner and tell me not to tell my grandmother, she was often in the kitchen cooking at the time.

It was the loss of my grandfather that began my long road to understanding death. I remember the day he went into the hospital and how much I wanted to go visit. I remember the bowls of cereal he would send home with my mother so that I would know he was thinking of me. I also remember the night that I was taken with my sister to my paternal grandmother’s because my pop pop had passed away. I was barely four and lost my first best friend.

At his funeral my uncle lifted me up and told me to say, “Bye pop pop.” I did as instructed knowing that it was the last time I would be able to ever see him. I did not know what death was but I knew at that moment Pop Pop was gone. At the internment I remember nothing else but watching them lower his silver casket into the ground. The lesson my family all took from this was that we should never smoke.

I was 20 years old and living in my first apartment and the peer pressure was astounding. When I was 18 I had smoked a cigarette at a concert and hated it. Now I was told about the joys of pot and cigars. I took to trying cigars and then cigarillos which then lead to me trying Marlboro’s then Newport 100’s. My work mom smoked 100’s because on her smoke break it took less time to smoke a half a 100 than it did a full short and half a 100’s gave just the right amount of nicotine she needed.

For several years I smoked off and on. I would quit cold turkey and be fine for sometimes more than a year. Then I would start stress smoking which would be so sporadic that most people did not even know I smoked.  While living with MeTo I managed to quit for over two years only smoking when with friends in Philly on an extremely rare occasion.

Then I moved back to Philly and hit with the stress of JR and MeTo I began smoking again. The following January I found a reason to quit cold turkey and did with much success until I was walking from the Couch Tomato CafĂ©. I was having a bad day I had to move and so I stopped into CVS and instead of ordering my old friend Newport I got what started it all, Marlboro Red 100’s. Just goes to show you I like most things in my life to be red.

I labeled myself a stress smoker and people only got to see me smoke if I was in a stressful situation and then I learned to handle stress in a different way so I stopped smoking.  

It was this past June while in MCES that I started smoking again, every friend that I made was a smoker and so on smoke breaks I would join them in the smoke room and light one up. Once out I went right for the emergency stress pack I had stashed away and have been smoking ever since. Every time I get to the last cigarette I take my time about replacing the pack in hopes to quit but something happens and I run to the Rite Aid at work or the Korean near home and buy another pack.

One time I had decided I was done and then I went off my meds and I became so stressed and angry that I wanted just one which led to a new pack. Then there was the weekend MeTo and I started talking again and I was beginning to think he was not being honest and was seeing other people so I figured I would buy a pack to get me through the weekend, I did not want to buy them but every time a bad though would cross my mind about MeTo I would light up and feel a lot better.

For me I still get that high occasionally and the recent infrequency is making me consider quitting but this time is the hardest. I tried going cold turkey like all the times before but my will power is not there. I tried switching brands to something I hated but it beat NOT smoking. I don’t know if it is the meds or the fact that I honestly have trouble with dealing with stress but the motion of lighting and taking drag after drag is what has got me hooked, it is the entire art of smoking that soothes me and calms me down. I want to quit but I am finding it hard to align everything in my mind to do it.

I remember my Pop Pop and I don’t want anyone in my family to go through that and I don’t want to suffer the way he did. I have the motivation but I look at my other grandmother who has smoked all her life and at 74 is still going strong and that puts doubt in my mind as far as health reasons. I know G-d does not want me to smoke, it is polluting his temple, smoking also speeds the aging process and I am too vain to allow that to happen.


They say there is a right time for everything and that a sigh will come. Once it was so I could date anyone I wanted but it’s just me so I guess this is me asking G-d, “Help!”  

04 August 2013

I Asked for a Blessing.

It was my day off from the job that pays the bills and I woke with a bad headache and groggy. I thought nothing of it as I took some ibuprofen and went back to bed to wait for it to kick in but it was the start to a not so good day.

I had a lot that needed to be taken care of. I had to make phone calls for my second job and I had to make some personal calls regarding my computer and medication. I was only able to make a few calls for my second job as the phone call with tech support and my medication took much more of my time than I had intended.

When all was said and done I would have to be without my laptop for a week and I would have to go a few more days without my medication. I then got a call saying that a warrant would be placed for my arrest due to an unpaid payday loan from 2009. I was pissed as the woman on the phone was nasty and unwilling to work with me to resolve the issue outside of court.

I went to the free clinic to see about having my prescription moved to them because I would not be able to see a psychologist until September.  I was told that on my day off I would have to come in for a walk in appointment and see what could be done then. Feeling defeated by the day I went home.

I made a Facebook status update about how the day was rough and that I was hoping G-d would send me something amazing. It was a few minutes before I decided to log into my computer but when I did there it was, a message from Wanita. I had been planning to send her a letter hopping that she lived in the same place. We had lost touch around the time I moved back to Philly and I really missed her.

Wanita, I used to call her work mom, and I used to work together. I met her when I was 19 at my first full time job and I soon began working side by side with her. We were as thick as thieves, she had a son older than me and we became so close that she became my mother when my birth mother was not around. She taught me so much about how to carry myself at work and cover my ass and then went on to teach me about how I should carry myself when I go out with friends and how a good friend should treat you.  The lessons went on and on and she was right there for me when I turned 21 and when I came out of the closet.

She protected me as if I was her own and around her I could not have felt any safer. I admired here to the point that when I needed advice it was either her, my aunt or my own mother that I asked for advice and there was no other word on the matter.

In the modern world of constant cell phone upgrades I lost her number and she lost mine. But the day came when I really needed a blessing from G-d and so I told him and he sent me her number. I wasted no time in calling her and the joy we shared in hearing one another’s voices brought tears of joy to my eyes. I wasted no time in planning a time for us to hang out and gave her my first available slot. We have so much to catch up on and we both are looking forward to Friday.


Words cannot express the joy I have that G-d has brought back to me one of the greatest people he has ever placed in my life and I will not let her get lost in the mess of life again.