I’m trying something new. I’m taking time off from my vices and returning to them after a certain amount of time. It felt like a step forward. One has to try different things when they’re unwinding the damage done by the addictive parts of their personality.
Overall, things were fine. It was easy to not smoke pot this week. I barely thought about it. That wasn’t the problem. This time, the feelings I don’t address while under enhancement were all there, in plain sight. Everyone could see. There was nowhere for them to hide. I became Sally Sulksalot. It was unbearable. And if I was that insufferable to myself, I can only imagine how I came across to other people. I was just hurting more than I had hurt in a while. It was pain and sorrow and whining and crying with nowhere for it to go but out. I thought with a little clarity under my belt I would feel differently about a situation I’ve placed myself in, wondering about feelings for someone that never seem to go away. No matter how much I try or what I do, they still exist and are very real. And it hurts my heart that I can no longer be the one to advance that conversation.
But the day I knew I was going back outside to write? Hang out in my little park and spark a little J? I was in the best mood of the week. It was like a party at work. We did a great job. I felt like everyone’s friend instead of everyone’s ice cube they’ve been forced to work with. All because I knew today was victory day. I did what I set out to do and therefore got to indulge with what I wanted to do. Get a little high. Smoke a little weed. Engage in my oral fixation for just a moment. My way of relaxing. Some people have a nice wine, I enjoy a little J. I’ve even given myself permission to do it as I walk home tomorrow if I want. I have no restrictions for myself, I’m nothing but a little singularity in this world right now. So I’m allowing myself to feel a little better than I feel without it. I have no reason to stop. I don’t really want to stop, because when I’m without it, my world feels bleak, drab, and impossible to leave behind.
But it’s becoming an honor to feel that.
Everything was fine. The news was fine this week. I’m preparing to have a lot more responsibility on my plate next week. It’s welcome this time around. I’m not stressed about it. Maybe a little nervous to perform, but I’m more excited to see how I’ll do rather than crippled by the fear of it. I’ll finally get a real chance to to prove myself and show my superiors what I’m capable of doing. Thinking about how much influence I’m about to have hits me like a slap in the face. And I enjoy every second of it.
I just like to feel enhanced when these feelings come my way. Why wouldn’t I want to feel enhanced when I think about me and what I can do? Everyone has the thing that helps get them through the night. I just haven’t been given a good enough reason to stop all this yet. While it’s starting to feel like the end is nigh, one thing I’m sure of is one day knowing I won’t need to make deals with myself. It’ll just stop because it’s the right thing to do. I’ve already made a rule to not smoke in my apartment anymore. The apartment that I could be selling soon. These are big, grown-up decisions I’m about to be making, and I can’t indulge in this nonsense like a little kid for much longer. It’ll serve no purpose and actually do more harm than good. And it’s finally a good thing to admit that.
In the meantime, with nothing else to do, with nothing else I can put in my mouth, I’ll just enjoy the deal I’ve got going on. Seems fine enough. It helps. I need something to veg out on that feels good and helps ease the pain. But I’ve got to feel it, so I at least know it’s real. I don’t expect everyone to understand my methods or even care about them. Who in their right mind cares that much about another’s feelings? This whole society is based on feels, why keep contributing to the heaps on garbage isle?
I think we all lost a little bit of ourselves in the pandemic. It can’t have been good for our psyches to be inside all day. Covered up. Masked up. Locked down. And it’s not like only a small portion of the world had to stop in its tracks. This was a global mindscrew. And they’re ingraining the idea that it’s required to wear masks again, regardless of whether or not you played by their own rules. Whoever is in charge here has to be someone incapable of feeling things as a human should. Because to do what has been done has to come from a very inhuman place. Unfortunately, those with the purest souls among us seem to be feeling the effects, while the ones with the blackest hearts look as though they are prevailing. Everyone feels something. I’m just afraid too many are putting out feelings that can stand to ruin the lot of us if they keep this up.
All of this exists with or without pot for me. I’ll feel it regardless of what state I’m in. But I know I’ll make the next correct choice when it’s time to. I’ll know when I no longer feel the need to give myself a punch in the face. I’ve suffered enough. I’ve punished myself enough. Maybe the next deal I make will take me on a longer path. A longer stretch of time. Maybe nine months. It’s easy to be clear. It’s easy to make the choice to stay clear. The hard part is all the waiting I’m doing for you to get ion my level. To see where I’m coming from. To want to see it. Maybe it won’t come on my timeline, but at least I can adjust to what is in front of me. One day, I’ll be able to look upon my past and know it won’t catch up to me. Because I’ll have learned from it, not let it tear me down. I have a lot of learning left to do. I finally feel good about that.
And in a world that’s running on feels instead of facts, I’ll take my chances on leaving the past behind if it means getting that much closer to the truth.