As I was preparing my delicious carrot/apple/"green shit" drink this morning, and chugging it down as quickly as I could, lest I actually taste the "green shit", I had to laugh at myself. There is this absurd lack of balance I have between "things that are good for me" and "things that are bad for me". Literally an hour earlier I had jumped out of bed, thrown on some clothes, and driven down to the market to get some cigarettes. Yes, I was out of cigarettes, and yes, this is the first thing I do when I wake up. I smoke. How in the hell did I start smoking, and why you might ask? Well, I was a late bloomer. I didn't start smoking when I was like, fifteen, because that's what the "cool" kids were doing. I was the party pooper still, at twenty, who hung out inside shaking her head in disgust, while everyone else was outside, "socially smoking".
So how did I go from one of those people who made a nasty comment every time I had to breathe in someone else's second hand smoke, or try to lecture others on the harms of smoking, to being a full fledged smoker by the time I was 21? Hells bells. This still comes as a surprise to me. In fact this evening I went for one of my "natural" American Spirits and looked down at the cigarette between my hand, feeling utterly disgusted with myself, "this isn't me". Unfortunately, it is me. I am a smoker. I am ashamed to admit it, and this shame is now compounded by the fact that I have MS. I have a few close friends who also smoke, but other than this, I am a lone wolf. My boyfriend doesn't smoke, most of my friends do not smoke, and nobody in my immediate family smokes. I guess I had some sort of shit fit in my mid-twentieth year, and decided that the "stress" in my life would be lessened if I smoked a clove. Turns out I enjoyed it. I kept on smoking the cloves, and eventually got my shit together enough to switch over to regular cigarettes, since these at least didn't have fiberglass particles in them, or do they? Hmmm. Research question...
Fast forward about a year and here come birth of my random health issues. I knew something wasn't quite right with my body, but I wasn't sure what was happening. I even had to quit work for a few months just to try and get a little of my health back. I was quitting my job for awhile, because I felt like such shit, and still, I kept up with the cancer sticks. Well, the time off work helped, and I slowly began emerging from the dark pit that was my 21st year. I came home to Oregon from a stay with my dad in California, feeling pretty refreshed, and ready to get back to life. I met my boyfriend Andy shortly after, and I swore to myself that this would be what would make me quit smoking. He wasn't a smoker, so how on earth could I kiss him?! Well, this too didn't prove to be enough of a motivator.
Fast forward yet again, to me, being 27, diagnosed with MS, and three months later, still smoking. I know there are a lot of folks out there puffing away on their cigarettes, some feeling badly about it, some more than happy to admit they "enjoy every cigarette" all the while living with chronic illness like MS. Is it wrong that when I think of someone, especially someone in their forties or fifties, living with MS and still smoking, I am simultaneously grossed out and disappointed in them? I suppose I can answer that one myself. Yeah. It's totally wrong. How the hell am I any different? Denial perhaps. Obviously I have some work to do.
