Whiskey has officially entered her interior design phase. At some point today, without a permit or a Pinterest board, she constructed herself a chair out of boxes in the room. Not a bed. Not a fort. A chair. She sat there like a tiny project manager overseeing the household, ears up, eyes alert, satisfied with her work. Minimalist. Recyclable. Very on-brand.
Mom was settled into her recliner, reading one of her mystery novels and playing solitaire. She’s been number one several times now, which I still don’t fully understand but deeply respect. There’s something comforting about the quiet competition between her and a deck of cards, the same way there’s comfort in the rhythm of turning pages. The house had that low hum of normal life. No chaos. No drama. Just presence.
I was home, relaxed, thinking. That’s usually where the real work happens.
I’ve been reflecting on addiction, not just smoking, but the bigger picture. The habits, the mental loops, the places where we tell ourselves we’re done when we’re really just tired. I’ve had a bit of a backslide over the last few days. Not cigarettes. Something else. Still important. Still real.
I’m putting this out here for support, not as a confession, not as self-punishment, but as honesty. I want a permanent quit. I know what that looks like because I’ve come close before. Close enough to recognize the terrain. Close enough to know I can get back there again.
This isn’t panic. It’s a course correction.
Whiskey in her box chair reminds me that structure doesn’t have to be perfect to be functional. Mom, calmly winning at solitaire, reminds me that patience adds up. And me, sitting here thinking it through instead of running from it, reminds me that awareness is progress, even when it’s uncomfortable.
No cigarettes today. Still standing. Still aiming forward.
I got this.
by Dan and Bonkers
SUPPORT MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS NOW!!!
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