OMG - I've turned veggie!

I feel spastic. You ever have one of those days? So much is going on and I have so much inside me that wants to come out; all the thoughts are pushing and shoving against each other, hoping the most aggressive will win. Ahem. Aren't vegetarians supposed to be passive??? My innards didn't get the memo. Or if they did, they tore it into tiny pieces before shoving it down an intestine so it can be eliminated.

Spastic. I could talk about the yogurt I'll never eat again, or how I wake up with so much energy now it freaks me out, or how the thought of elimination makes me grin from ear to ear. Oh yes, going to the bathroom has never felt so good. Or I could talk about how I feel when I am asked every day what I ate, or how I get looked at from the corner of people's eyes as if, now that I am vegetarian, I am also a spy reporting the habits of a carnivore's world. hmmmm, the list is endless. Spastic. Or maybe I could talk about why I feel so damn edgy today and yesterday which doesn't have anything to do with what I am eating but really it does. Oh yes really it does.

It has been four days since I have met up with my friend. Four days. The past two being absolutely excruciating. I miss him. He has been my constant companion since I was 13 years old. The one I could go to no matter what and he would always calm me down, make me feel better. Ten minutes with him and I'd feel relief and, and, happy?Oh, there were a few times when I would push him away, banish him from my very presence but I would always go back. Sometimes with my eyes closed, head bowed in resignation. Sometimes running full force with arms outstretched hoping I could reach him that much faster because I wanted him so bad. Oh yes. I wanted him with every fiber inside me. Other times I would feel desperate and once he was there, instant relief. I am almost quivering now with anticipation.
It is this anticipation I am hoping I can stomp on, full force, crushing the life out of it and all the deceitful lies of comfort it brings. Because you know, he is killing me. With each meeting, each rendevous, each 10 minute break, he is killing me. We will call him Smoke. I hate him and love him at the same time. Like an abusive boyfriend, he woos me with promises of a better day and please, just one more chance, if you take me back it will be So. MUCH. BETTER. I'll never hurt you again. I give in, of course I give in, because this is what happens when you are an addict. It doesn't matter what the addiction is, the abusive boyfriend treats us all the same. He beats my insides black and blue until I can barely breath. He fills me with himself until I weeze and gasp and cough, begging for more and begging for it to stop all at the same time. Who can reason with an addict? Nobody. We know. I know. Let's recap. Overweight doesn't = stupid and neither does addiction. I am chained. I am shackled and sadly sometimes I handcuff myself. Even as I write this I don't know if I will see Smoke tonight. It's not that I see Smoke so much I crave it but the thought of never seeing Smoke again sends me into a panic that makes me shake. Like all addicts do.

I don't know if I would break up with Smoke if I hadn't met Veggie. So funny too because I always laughed at people that broke up with one when another was already waiting. How weak and pathetic I would think. Can't they just do it on their own? Oh, I am so sorry if I ever thought that about you. How wrong, how wrong I am! What if it isn't weakness but a new found strength instead? A rock that was provided at just the right time, a time such as this?
It is ironic to me that I am cleansing my body of dead, rotting corpses only to fill it with rat poison. No thank you, I don't eat cheese but could you please pass the arsenic? Am I fucking retarded? Ahhh. slow down and breathe. Not stupid or retarded. Addict remember? I read something before (actually several times because I love it so much) that describes an addict as a bird. A bird only does what it does. It eats and sits in a tree and poos. You can stand under the tree and get pooed on or you can move away from the tree, or at least carry an umbrella, to avoid the poo. I have always identified with the person standing under the tree dodging shit bullets. How strange to be both the shit dodger and the shitter. I am the person and the bird. huh. A thought to ponder. How do we stop being a bird? Is it possible? Any addict I know of that stops their addiction is still the bird, just a Recovering bird or perhaps a bird "on-the-wagon" or maybe even the bird that flew "off-the-wagon". I can hear it now, oh look there goes that damn bird shitting again? When oh when will that bird learn? Shit sucks.

I am not perfect. NO freaking way. I am as flawed as they come. Sometimes I try to see me the way God does and I just cry because he loves me so much anyway. It's overwhelming.
Maybe I will see Smoke, maybe I will not. Maybe tonight I will not take his calls. But whatever happens, I can only take it one day at a time (that's addict talk in case you didn't know but I don't think smokers get a token. damn!)

One day at a time and if I go back today that doesn't mean I have to tomorrow. True dat. After all, I never thought I'd be a Veggie and maybe Veggie can also be my rock. For such a time as this.