The Plunge

Happy Monday, folks!

I’ve got a couple different posts in the works, but the last week has been extraordinarily crazy, even for me. So they remain in draft status for the time being.

Warmer weather has finally reached my region, and I’m ecstatic. However it does seem to bring out the crazy in people, so work has been extra interesting. We have two major projects going on, plus the normal day to day crazy, plus people wanting to move because it’s nice out.

Not to mention now it is time for tball, now coach pitch for Chase. So I’m spending my Monday evenings watching 6 year olds try and hit a ball that is flying at their face. Good times.

Which is where I currently am at writing this.

I got strep throat – again – this time not at a concert. I was diagnosed Tuesday last week, put on antibiotics, and had a concert Friday night. (The one I said in my last post that I wasn’t going to). I made jokes about not being able to get strep at a concert when I was already on antibiotics for strep. I shoulda kept my damn mouth shut, because despite the antibiotics, I woke up feeling like hell this morning. After a visit to the doctor who gave me a super antibiotic and a steroid shot, I should be rid of the illness. But I’m over this bullshit. I’m over being sick and missing work and doctor bills, so on and so forth.

So I’m sitting at coach pitch practice in the beautiful 73° weather, simultaneously feeling like shit but reveling in the sunshine.

There’s lots of things I could ramble about today, but I think I’m going to pick this illness to center on.

Here’s the thing. I don’t take care of myself. I’ve gotten way better than I was two years ago. Two years ago I was bouncing around between Hillsdale and home, kids, brother work. . . And I was continually exhausted, I always wanted sleep. . . I was drinking four energy drinks a day, getting six hours of sleep a night (on a good night), surviving on fast food and smoking well over a pack of cigarettes a day, sometimes pushing two. I looked, felt, fucking oozed unhealthy. But I was keeping my little world from collapsing as I dealt with the loss of dad and all that encompassed.

What kicked me in the ass was when I stepped on a scale and was well over 200lbs.

Guys, I’m five foot two. This isn’t a cute look, let alone healthy.

I wanted my energy back. I wanted to not feel tired. I wanted to fit in my clothes. I wanted to be able to continue to keep up with my life.

So.

So, I began exercising. Drinking more water. Getting more sleep.

It’s been a very slow progression. I kicked energy drinks almost completely – I still fall back on them a couple times a month, but definitely not four a day anymore. I brought my weight down. It surged this winter as I dealt with the winter blues, but still nowhere near where I was. I make a conscious effort to get enough sleep. Of course there are exceptions, like Friday when I was up 22hrs and little sleep either the day before or the day after. I have my gardening and my yoga, etc etc.

I did reign my cigarette smoking too, with some effort. Again, there are days, but mostly under a pack a day.

But I need to get a little more conscious again, as my weight creeps up and my energy declines. I have too much going on to lack energy. I found myself the other day contemplating starting to drink energy drinks again, and that’s where I draw the line.

I started smoking at 18, after living with cigarette smokers my entire life. I despised it as a kid, hated always smelling of it, hated car rides anywhere, plain hated it. Somehow I started, but I vowed when I bought my first pack I was going to quit in a year.

A year came, and then went.

I’m sitting at around fifteen years.

I’m really concerned right now because I have gotten strep throat four times since September, and this last time regular antibiotics wouldn’t kick it out of my system.

I make jokes about it – ‘guess I don’t do anything half assed, huh?’ – but truth is, I am faced with something needing to change in my life, and I’m pretty sure it’s cigarette smoking.

My mother’s cause of death was double pneumonia and anemia. Dad was COPD and Emphysema.

I’m getting into my mid thirties, when my parents health started to decline.

I’ve quit four times and not been able to stay quit.

My dad quit every drug known to man, quit alcohol, and couldn’t quit smoking.

I don’t know if I can do this.

I try and tell myself – I have faced so much, overcome so much, what’s a damn cigarette?

It’s a lot. It’s a lot when it’s such an intricate part or my life.

Fifteen times a day (give or take) I get to step away from whatever is crazy and take a five minute break from it all. Sometimes I’m driving, sometimes I multitask and pay bills or read emails or write my posts, but often it’s spent scrolling Facebook. When life gets too heavy, too hectic, when I’m at my wits end. . . I have that five minutes of nicotine and peace, where I can hide from it all

But in reality, that’s an hour and fifteen minutes I’m doing nothing each day but killing myself slowly.

It’s heavy on my mind. I’ve kicked a lot of bad habits, I’ve made a conscious effort to be healthier.

So I think it’s time to take the plunge.

I know there are alternatives now – ecigs and Vapes.

Y’all, I have no interest. Remember, I don’t do anything half assed. It’s all or nothing.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you I am 100% for sure going to do it.

But it’s the most seriously I’ve considered it in a long time.

I want to watch my kids grow up. I don’t want them to go through what I went through losing my parents at such a young age. I want to see my grandkids.

And I want fucking strep throat to be a thing of the past.

Am I any better than my parents, letting this addiction rule my life?

I may not be altering my state or mind, but I am still taking away from my kids.

“Go on now, get away from here. Momma’s smoking.”

“Jesus petes, can we hurry up? Momma needs a cigarette.”

“I’ll be in in just a second, let me finish my cigarette.”

Yeah. I can’t see how I’m any better.

Saying all of that, it seems a no brainer.

But it’s a battle. How much fucking will power do I really and truly have?

No promises. But there hasn’t been anything that has set me back, knocked me down and kept me down, gotten in my path and blocked my way. . .

It’s a distinct possibility that this won’t, either.