I didn’t wake up until four-thirty this evening. It wasn’t laziness or avoidance. I was up most of the night dealing with brutal acid reflux and vomiting, the kind that leaves you wrung out, dehydrated, and cranky at the universe. When I finally did wake up, the cravings hit hard. Not subtle cravings either. The loud, nagging kind that say, today is not your day.
And honestly, today hasn’t been.
I want to address a few things that have come up in comments on this blog, because clarity matters, especially when people mean well but don’t have the full picture.
First, my mom and I get along just fine. More than fine, actually. We’re two grown adults who found ourselves lonely at different points in life and chose to keep each other company with respect. There’s no drama behind the scenes, no secret tension. Just mutual appreciation, patience, and a shared routine that works for both of us.
Second, tough love does not work with me. It never has. I don’t mistake it for care or wisdom. I see it for what it is: coercive, often abusive, and frequently used to justify neglect. I’m not a victim, but I am observant, and I can clearly point out corruption where it exists. Drug-ridden, cigarette-filled sober livings and room-and-board setups aren’t recovery environments. They’re relapse factories with paperwork.
Third, even though I slept most of the day, Whiskey Kitty was fed on time and her litter box was cleaned. She takes her supervisory role seriously. She plays with the little plastic bags like they’re Olympic equipment and thoughtfully points out any little poops I might miss, just to keep standards high. Accountability comes in many forms, and apparently one of them has whiskers.
And finally, in spite of the sickness, the cravings, the bad timing, and the general feeling that today was stacked against me, I’m still not smoking.
Not today.
I got this.
by Dan and Bonkers
SUPPPORT MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS TODAY!!!
