I go through the day and I remember things that happened years ago, could be 2 years could be ten years or even fifteen. I remember things like they just happened and most of this stuff is painful. Most of this stuff stabs my gut and I feel what I probably felt in the moment it happened. One of these things is while we where living in Colorado and the neighbor kid handed me a cigarette through the fence and I proceeded to smoke it, I was 7. I remember going inside so fast to take a shower because I was worried. I was worried that my mom would smell it and yell. This was a year before she scoulded me which caused the brunt of my trauma.
I say all of this because I have decided to quit smoking. I’ve been using tobacco products most of my life to cope. Most of my life has been wrapped up in that comfort of knowing 5 minutes of releif is going to keep me going. Going outside and breathing in the smoke calmed me down at first then it turned into my main coping mechanism. I don’t blame that neighbor for handing me the cigarette I don’t even blame myself, I blame the gateway drug of trauma from my parents. I blame that pastor who hit my mom down to the floor saying she got slain in the spirit and my dad not doing a damn thing.
This onion has a lot of layers, peeling them back and pulling them apart fucking hurts. The amount of growth this year has been astounding though. I didn’t think I’d be here still I didn’t think I would have any friends. My life made no sense for the first 27 years. Those 27 years have a lot of memories and I can’t seem to get them out of my head. Yes there where good memories but the painful ones stick a bit more then they start to sting. Vivid, it’s all fucking vivid and it makes me mad honestly. I hate that I remember so many things and can see them as they just happened. It’s a gift and a curse.