Lockdown: Day 129

Two weeks ago around this time, I was coughing so badly and was two days into my second antibiotic. My body felt tired, weak and sore.

I have had two Covid tests in the past three weeks and both were negative - praise Jesus - but I self-isolated on the advice of my doctor anyway, because my lungs is my body’s weak spot. When my father died in 1996 I started smoking. Just one half of a ciggie, every morning before school.

I had just started high school and had to endure a very rude girl in my class with chiseled cheek bones, blonde hair, and perfect calves. I have never forgotten the day I allowed to her chip away at my self-confidence. Four powerful, hateful words was all it took.

“I don’t like you.”

She offered me no reason why I was so ‘disgusting’ and I didn’t press for an explanation. Like a baby giraffe near a hungry lion, I just hanged my head in despair.

Me climbing into myself and hiding for most of my high school career is putting it mildly. I was an offish teenager. Very weird. And I continued to smoke and didn’t think anything about my habit. I loved it and I blew perfectly round smoked ringlets until I got married. Smoking has been my biggest addiction and also one of the biggest regrets of my life. Smoking contributed to my sinus issues that results in an annual spell of bronchitis. Last year July I had the Swine Flu and I was nebulizing up to four times a day just to breathe normally.

I’ve been a non-smoker for almost five years now, but some days I still crave a cigarette and when I hear conversations swirl around me about how people should use this Lockdown to quit, my heart constricts a little in anguish. It’s so easy to say flippant things about addiction when we haven’t experienced it for ourselves. And it’s even easier to cast aspersions on a drug addict or on an alcoholic and write them off from the world because they behave differently. It’s too easy but it is the reality. We live in a world of brokenness and there are so many of us who cannot breathe because of past trauma.

Addiction is not a small thing. It is a noun and it means, ‘the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance or activity’.

I’m addicted to refined sugar to be very honest. It is a real problem. When I don’t eat sugar for longer than a week I suffer from excruciating headaches and a dry mouth. I’ve slept next to a person who was addicted to sex workers for years. I’ve dated someone addicted to cocaine. I know someone who is addicted to food and who enjoys purging.

Addiction is basically an abusive romance with yourself.

And I don’t use the word romance lightly. I used to delight from the burn in my chest when I smoked. It gave me a sense of purpose when I felt out of control. I never gravitated towards alcohol but when I do have a particularly rough day I can easily knock back a brandy (leftover from my Christmas minced pies) to soothe an inner turmoil.

Smoking was my coping mechanism and whenever I limped emotionally, I would use it like a crutch to hold me up straight. I was in control. My lungs were burning but what did that matter - I was in control.

It’s not easy to stop being addicted to a narcotic like tobacco. It is a battle - a war of sorts on the inside. Quitting smoking was hard and the cravings felt like a million tiny creatures crawling all over my scalp.

They say it takes two weeks to break a habit and in many ways I believe this to be true. I am very rigid in my life and recently I have had two friends tell me to be more flexible. My control issues is an addiction. The way I manage my time has become addictive and it’s quite fascinating actually. I take time to make time for things that I think deserve my time. And there are so many days when I forget to return calls, send quotes to customers, when I slip up at work or forget to meet someone for a run. I am flawed and I am okay with that.

In fact, I can give you an excuse or explanation for every mistake and failure of mine, but what I’ve come to appreciate is the honest conversations I’ve been having with myself lately about my habits. I am trying to be kinder to myself and like a juggler, I’m learning not to pick up too many balls at the same time because when one falls, they tend to all hit the ground in quick succession.

I make conscious efforts to reign myself in whenever I think something negative. I’m learning to prioritize what’s actually important and what isn’t. It's no longer important to me to be available emotionally to everyone for 24 hours of the day, every day. I have started saying, “I don’t appreciate that… That wasn’t your best behavior… I am exhausted…Not today… Don’t make me feel guilty… You’re making me feel uncomfortable… You’re bullying me… Stop… No… Enough… Why… (and my favorite) I’ve changed my mind.”

Key phrases that don’t make me a bad person but rather a more honest one.

I am also actively striving to eulogize the living because saying kind things about the dead is only meaningful to those who are left behind.

I want those who I love to know that I care and appreciate them deeply. That I enjoy their company and that I respect their opinions and their beliefs. I want to be able to be a person, who when criticized doesn’t try to convince the other person that they’re wrong, in feeling the way that they do.

People who hurt people are hurt themselves. You and I don’t get to decide who we hurt but we can decide who hurts us. And it’s the small, kind choices that culminate in big things just like an outburst of fury and vitriol can leave behind massive scars. There is no better time than now to be absolutely aware and intentional about the way we speak and live.

I believe so strongly with all my heart that this pandemic is going to teach us to interact differently for generations to come because we are going to have to learn to be creative with our words and how we communicate with each other. Hugs is no longer an option for me.

Until a vaccine is found I am probably not going to experience the warmth of someone else’s hand in mine, regularly. However, I am clinging to hope that one day this virus will end. Just like bad opinions and bad perspectives. It will end. Because it only takes one moment to realise the value and impact of harsh words spoken.

And that’s death.

So let’s be authentic and say sorry today, love with all our heart and speak often to people who mean so much to us.

Tomorrow is not guaranteed.