Okay, so maybe the seven-word story wasn't such a hit. But I had fun doing it, and maybe some of you will recognize yourselves in them!
This week my dad is having some surgery for a recurrence of bladder cancer. The last time he dealt with it, I was a closet smoker and I spent a lot of time beforehand worrying about how I was going to take care of him and not keel over myself from a nicotine fit.
So, of course, I dreamed last night that I was smoking again. I knew how I smelled, knew he could smell it, knew that the smell was probably not doing much to make him feel better (mentally because he of course hated my smoking and physically because it is a nauseating smell).
Guilt is a mighty pervasive emotion. It gets inside and sits there like an ugly scar, and eventually it just becomes part of your personal landscape and you don't think about it as much. And long after you have atoned, and or stopped the guilty behavior, the feeling will still crop up.
This morning there was a residual panic from the dream, but it's gone now. I'm thankful that I don't smoke, but I'm also thankful that I don't have to feel guilty about it anymore.
2 comments:
i'm a embarrassed to admit it, but i think my heart skipped a few beats when i read the title of this post on my blog feed. i was just telling anthony the other day about when you called us from work so many years ago to say you'd started smoking again after you had quit. shoulda known how much stronger you are now, ma. love you.
Well, I don't know if I'm stronger but I am lasting longer! Glad you didn't have to be disappointed!! Love you too - you know I do.
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