Wow! We are so honored to have you here. The story is magnificent and the writing is wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing your life and work. Like the Pitt - stories have a way to heal. You heal people with this one. What a gift your story is. Merci 😊.
I know the feeling, it's currently distracting me from pain, Avascular Necrosis in both hips and shoulders, I've smoked for 24 years, I did stop twice, then had hip pain and started, because I had to work, I was 16, a social worker I did work experience with got me started. You're right, that repetitive task holds a lot of trauma at bay, as do my dogs, the same way that walking helps clear your mind and allows you to really see the world around you, when taking time to people watch, is my favourite thing. Hopefully some time I'll get to a place where I am physically, and emotionally ready to cope with quitting for good, it won't be any time soon. A decade of morphine is already damaging my body, as my bones crack and crumble, I genuinely don't know what's worse, I know I can stop the morphine with realitve ease, I have done it multiple times, convincing myself I can cope with the pain, without it; I can't, but I summon the willpower to try for a few months, not so the nicotine, yet.
I say Fuck it. Get the meds if you can. And also when the urge comes up just say “Fuck Off” and pretend to brush it off your shoulder. You don’t have to be held hostage anymore. You got this. 😊😘
I´ve also struggled with addiction for many years and worst is that if one addiction gets under "control" another addiction will just rise and take over 😶 Sex, gambling, sex again, food and compulsive binge eating, gambling, food... The loop just continues and i´ve felt so much hopelessness... And shame...
Even though addiction (and self destructing behaviour) in the end only takes more than it
gives a change is also scary as h*ll. Because how are you supposed to function in the world and also find peace or true relief when you have no idea who you are anymore because you have been numbing yourself for such a long time? And how do you deal with all of the emptiness, sadness, existential pain, despair and ugliness that will show up when you´re no longer running or hiding? I´ve still not been able to figure this out...
Also, i got very touched when you talked about your father (in the podcast). Growing up with a wounded parent who couldn´t protect, love or keep one safe is extremely painful and traumatic - no matter how many years that might pass and no matter if we choose to forgive or not. Because our nervous system still remembers... Also, fear and unsafe/unstable attachment will affect us on so many levels later in life, right? And here addiction comes in like the perfect solution because it gives us relief, protection, distraction and comfort, right? But then the addiction itself becomes a problem because it takes...
But congratulations for being able to quit smoking and for managing to go through the grief, anger and withdrawal without going completely nuts 😊 One day at a time!
She’s quiet, stealthy, this dirty bitch of mine. Crept in slowly after I couldn’t stop my daughter from dying from a medical issue…I didn’t notice her at first. It was just the thing that quieted the rage, sadness, grief- life in general- enough for me tolerate this new chapter that I never wanted…the funny thing is I knew this dirty bitch well. Come from a family that’s welcomed her openly, lovingly for generations and gladly introduces her to the next generation. I swore I’d never let this bitch get that close, we could hang at a bar, grab pizza, have a night out. But that’s it. So when I looked at what and where my life was going, I was surprised and appalled that I was allowing this dirty bitch to get so close. I was making her my best friend. Prioritizing her over chores, hobbies, life…it’s been difficult telling her to fuck off for good. There are days when I really want her to take the pain, time, feelings away. But, there are times when I enjoy the opportunity to explore all this new found time and space without my dirty bitch…
This made me cry. I’m so sorry about your Mama and for the pain the Dirty Bitch caused you. But I think your mom is one of the angels that are looking over us cheering because we let her go. Here’s to beautiful moments sister. 😊🙏
My addiction was different but the journey was the same. Found a cavernous void within me. It had always been there, stuffed with so much pain and anger and fear and trauma. Good lord I was shocked to fall into it. It was terrifying. But you are right, the only way out is to go through it. Those who haven't done it have no idea. Those who have are in every sense of the word -- sober. Thanks for making me feel less alone as I reflect on that harrowing journey.
I can’t be the only one thinking “I had some of those gf” Until I realized it was an whole other addiction we’re talking about here…😅 Well, i quit smoking last November, from one day to another. I’m still surprised actually. That was my longest relationship, 33 years with that bitch. One bitch down, just a few more to go…🫶🏼
I don’t know if you’ll see this-I wanted to let you know that the woman I wrote about passed away this morning from an OD. She won’t see the Pitt finale tonight. Stupid thing to be focused on, isn’t it?
Keep writing, okay? You’re a beautiful writer. You’re a beautiful person. Love to you.
Thank you. What a well written and insightful text. I have someone I care about that I want to send this text to. But I will not. I finally know I can not help her - she will only hurt me. Then she will light a new one. Merci from Iceland 😘
I’m glad you and your friend have been successful in this. Both my parents smoked from 18 yrs old until their deaths. My mother was 69 and my father three years later, he was 72. That’s too young. It wasn’t from lung cancer but smoking definitely was the cause. My mom went quickly, unexpectedly from a pulmonary embolism whereas my father lingered a bit more from COPD. My doctor asked me once if I smoked and I said no not anymore. They asked when I had quit and I said I smoked in utero until 18 years of age when I moved out of the house and then periodically when I went back to visit, however, a cigarette never actually touched my lips. Both of my parents tried for years to quit with some success on and off, but ultimately at least in my mom‘s case that first morning cigarette while she was contemplating her day was her favorite. She never smoked as much as my father in his prime. He was a pack and a half maybe even two packs a day. I remember traveling in the car with them my brother and I in the backseat and us rolling down the windows and my father getting mad because it was winter and it was cold out, but we literally could not breathe. My parents always told us to stop exaggerating. I had no idea until I had moved out and lived in a home free of smoke how much I smelled like smoke. I suppose my friends didn’t notice because their parents were heavy smokers as well. I’m curious how many of us children from heavy smokers turned out to be smokers ourselves. I’m rambling on a bit but what I really wanna say is a thank you for quitting on your son‘s behalf.
I work with the homeless in Pittsburgh. I’ve Narcanned more people than I can count. Addiction is hell. They all smoke cigarettes, on top of whatever else they’re doing, and the ones that get clean have said that quitting smoking is harder than quitting hard drugs. I think it’s because it’s the last thing they have to hold on to, the last thing keeping away that howling darkness that they’ll have to face and take in once that last addiction is gone. Like you said….what will they do with all the empty that will be left?
One woman is addicted to tranq. She recently had to have her arm amputated because of the wound caused by tranq. That wasn’t enough to stop her. She still uses. She is skin and bones and her skin has begun to look gray. I know she won’t live much longer and I know there’s nothing I can do to stop death and I fucking hate it. We watch the Pitt together every week. I bring my laptop in and she sits, eyes glued to the screen, not flinching away from the gory the way I do. During the week she constantly asks-“we’re going to watch on Thursday, right? You’ll be here, right?” When they showed the tranq wound on the episode last week I tensed up and was worried it would trigger her but she again didn’t flinch or turn away. She quietly said after the episode that they mostly got that part right. And when the episode is over she goes back out onto the streets, back into her addiction. But for that one hour a week, she’s sober, she’s with me, she’s safe, she’s at peace, she’s focused on something other than fucking tranq.
I hate tranq. Narcan doesn’t touch it. It eats their skin and muscle and bone. It swallows them entirely whole. It takes and it takes and it takes and it’s never enough. They always have to give more to it. Rhino tranq is new here and that’s even worse. That shoots their blood pressure up so they stroke out.
I quit smoking 8 years ago. I was on the patch for damn near 6 months. But I did it. I quit alcohol a year ago. I haven’t faced my darkness yet. But I’m not numbing it anymore. I’m just kind of blocking it out by sheer will.
I focus on what I can control. I can’t take their addictions away, but I can be there with a blanket or a hot meal or a shower or the Pitt or filling out endless housing applications. I can remind them that I’m there and I’m not leaving. I can love them.
You’re strong. That shows through in your writing and your acting. I’m very glad you’re here.
Oh, I had a dirty bitch—only I refer to her as a murderous bitch (or "MB"). When I was 12, she made an attempt on my mother's life. Mom tossed her (and dozens of her friends) in the garbage — but sweet, innocent me took them out and started getting to know her. By the time she killed my 43-year-old mother six years later (a heart attack while in recovery following open heart surgery), MB and I were besties. The only time I was without her was when I was sleeping. She was the first one I thought of when I woke up, and the last one I wanted to be with before I went to sleep.
But MB burnt holes in my clothes (even my wedding dress) and car seats. Cute guys wouldn't come near me because she put up a stank. She even nearly cost me a job. MB was the bad influence I couldn't shake — until she tried to kill me. She stole some juice from my birth control pill and threw a blood clot into my right coronary artery. Massive heart attack at age 28.
I never saw MB again. I died massively addicted to her, but when I was brought back to life, I never gave her another thought. I literally died a smoker and came back a nonsmoker. And I filled that space with so many beautiful moments around the world, particularly in Paris, my (second) home.
Wow! We are so honored to have you here. The story is magnificent and the writing is wonderful. Thank you so much for sharing your life and work. Like the Pitt - stories have a way to heal. You heal people with this one. What a gift your story is. Merci 😊.
I know the feeling, it's currently distracting me from pain, Avascular Necrosis in both hips and shoulders, I've smoked for 24 years, I did stop twice, then had hip pain and started, because I had to work, I was 16, a social worker I did work experience with got me started. You're right, that repetitive task holds a lot of trauma at bay, as do my dogs, the same way that walking helps clear your mind and allows you to really see the world around you, when taking time to people watch, is my favourite thing. Hopefully some time I'll get to a place where I am physically, and emotionally ready to cope with quitting for good, it won't be any time soon. A decade of morphine is already damaging my body, as my bones crack and crumble, I genuinely don't know what's worse, I know I can stop the morphine with realitve ease, I have done it multiple times, convincing myself I can cope with the pain, without it; I can't, but I summon the willpower to try for a few months, not so the nicotine, yet.
I say Fuck it. Get the meds if you can. And also when the urge comes up just say “Fuck Off” and pretend to brush it off your shoulder. You don’t have to be held hostage anymore. You got this. 😊😘
I´ve also struggled with addiction for many years and worst is that if one addiction gets under "control" another addiction will just rise and take over 😶 Sex, gambling, sex again, food and compulsive binge eating, gambling, food... The loop just continues and i´ve felt so much hopelessness... And shame...
Even though addiction (and self destructing behaviour) in the end only takes more than it
gives a change is also scary as h*ll. Because how are you supposed to function in the world and also find peace or true relief when you have no idea who you are anymore because you have been numbing yourself for such a long time? And how do you deal with all of the emptiness, sadness, existential pain, despair and ugliness that will show up when you´re no longer running or hiding? I´ve still not been able to figure this out...
Also, i got very touched when you talked about your father (in the podcast). Growing up with a wounded parent who couldn´t protect, love or keep one safe is extremely painful and traumatic - no matter how many years that might pass and no matter if we choose to forgive or not. Because our nervous system still remembers... Also, fear and unsafe/unstable attachment will affect us on so many levels later in life, right? And here addiction comes in like the perfect solution because it gives us relief, protection, distraction and comfort, right? But then the addiction itself becomes a problem because it takes...
But congratulations for being able to quit smoking and for managing to go through the grief, anger and withdrawal without going completely nuts 😊 One day at a time!
She’s quiet, stealthy, this dirty bitch of mine. Crept in slowly after I couldn’t stop my daughter from dying from a medical issue…I didn’t notice her at first. It was just the thing that quieted the rage, sadness, grief- life in general- enough for me tolerate this new chapter that I never wanted…the funny thing is I knew this dirty bitch well. Come from a family that’s welcomed her openly, lovingly for generations and gladly introduces her to the next generation. I swore I’d never let this bitch get that close, we could hang at a bar, grab pizza, have a night out. But that’s it. So when I looked at what and where my life was going, I was surprised and appalled that I was allowing this dirty bitch to get so close. I was making her my best friend. Prioritizing her over chores, hobbies, life…it’s been difficult telling her to fuck off for good. There are days when I really want her to take the pain, time, feelings away. But, there are times when I enjoy the opportunity to explore all this new found time and space without my dirty bitch…
This made me cry. I’m so sorry about your Mama and for the pain the Dirty Bitch caused you. But I think your mom is one of the angels that are looking over us cheering because we let her go. Here’s to beautiful moments sister. 😊🙏
My addiction was different but the journey was the same. Found a cavernous void within me. It had always been there, stuffed with so much pain and anger and fear and trauma. Good lord I was shocked to fall into it. It was terrifying. But you are right, the only way out is to go through it. Those who haven't done it have no idea. Those who have are in every sense of the word -- sober. Thanks for making me feel less alone as I reflect on that harrowing journey.
I can’t be the only one thinking “I had some of those gf” Until I realized it was an whole other addiction we’re talking about here…😅 Well, i quit smoking last November, from one day to another. I’m still surprised actually. That was my longest relationship, 33 years with that bitch. One bitch down, just a few more to go…🫶🏼
I don’t know if you’ll see this-I wanted to let you know that the woman I wrote about passed away this morning from an OD. She won’t see the Pitt finale tonight. Stupid thing to be focused on, isn’t it?
Keep writing, okay? You’re a beautiful writer. You’re a beautiful person. Love to you.
Thank you. What a well written and insightful text. I have someone I care about that I want to send this text to. But I will not. I finally know I can not help her - she will only hurt me. Then she will light a new one. Merci from Iceland 😘
I’m glad you and your friend have been successful in this. Both my parents smoked from 18 yrs old until their deaths. My mother was 69 and my father three years later, he was 72. That’s too young. It wasn’t from lung cancer but smoking definitely was the cause. My mom went quickly, unexpectedly from a pulmonary embolism whereas my father lingered a bit more from COPD. My doctor asked me once if I smoked and I said no not anymore. They asked when I had quit and I said I smoked in utero until 18 years of age when I moved out of the house and then periodically when I went back to visit, however, a cigarette never actually touched my lips. Both of my parents tried for years to quit with some success on and off, but ultimately at least in my mom‘s case that first morning cigarette while she was contemplating her day was her favorite. She never smoked as much as my father in his prime. He was a pack and a half maybe even two packs a day. I remember traveling in the car with them my brother and I in the backseat and us rolling down the windows and my father getting mad because it was winter and it was cold out, but we literally could not breathe. My parents always told us to stop exaggerating. I had no idea until I had moved out and lived in a home free of smoke how much I smelled like smoke. I suppose my friends didn’t notice because their parents were heavy smokers as well. I’m curious how many of us children from heavy smokers turned out to be smokers ourselves. I’m rambling on a bit but what I really wanna say is a thank you for quitting on your son‘s behalf.
I work with the homeless in Pittsburgh. I’ve Narcanned more people than I can count. Addiction is hell. They all smoke cigarettes, on top of whatever else they’re doing, and the ones that get clean have said that quitting smoking is harder than quitting hard drugs. I think it’s because it’s the last thing they have to hold on to, the last thing keeping away that howling darkness that they’ll have to face and take in once that last addiction is gone. Like you said….what will they do with all the empty that will be left?
One woman is addicted to tranq. She recently had to have her arm amputated because of the wound caused by tranq. That wasn’t enough to stop her. She still uses. She is skin and bones and her skin has begun to look gray. I know she won’t live much longer and I know there’s nothing I can do to stop death and I fucking hate it. We watch the Pitt together every week. I bring my laptop in and she sits, eyes glued to the screen, not flinching away from the gory the way I do. During the week she constantly asks-“we’re going to watch on Thursday, right? You’ll be here, right?” When they showed the tranq wound on the episode last week I tensed up and was worried it would trigger her but she again didn’t flinch or turn away. She quietly said after the episode that they mostly got that part right. And when the episode is over she goes back out onto the streets, back into her addiction. But for that one hour a week, she’s sober, she’s with me, she’s safe, she’s at peace, she’s focused on something other than fucking tranq.
I hate tranq. Narcan doesn’t touch it. It eats their skin and muscle and bone. It swallows them entirely whole. It takes and it takes and it takes and it’s never enough. They always have to give more to it. Rhino tranq is new here and that’s even worse. That shoots their blood pressure up so they stroke out.
I quit smoking 8 years ago. I was on the patch for damn near 6 months. But I did it. I quit alcohol a year ago. I haven’t faced my darkness yet. But I’m not numbing it anymore. I’m just kind of blocking it out by sheer will.
I focus on what I can control. I can’t take their addictions away, but I can be there with a blanket or a hot meal or a shower or the Pitt or filling out endless housing applications. I can remind them that I’m there and I’m not leaving. I can love them.
You’re strong. That shows through in your writing and your acting. I’m very glad you’re here.
🩷
Oh, I had a dirty bitch—only I refer to her as a murderous bitch (or "MB"). When I was 12, she made an attempt on my mother's life. Mom tossed her (and dozens of her friends) in the garbage — but sweet, innocent me took them out and started getting to know her. By the time she killed my 43-year-old mother six years later (a heart attack while in recovery following open heart surgery), MB and I were besties. The only time I was without her was when I was sleeping. She was the first one I thought of when I woke up, and the last one I wanted to be with before I went to sleep.
But MB burnt holes in my clothes (even my wedding dress) and car seats. Cute guys wouldn't come near me because she put up a stank. She even nearly cost me a job. MB was the bad influence I couldn't shake — until she tried to kill me. She stole some juice from my birth control pill and threw a blood clot into my right coronary artery. Massive heart attack at age 28.
I never saw MB again. I died massively addicted to her, but when I was brought back to life, I never gave her another thought. I literally died a smoker and came back a nonsmoker. And I filled that space with so many beautiful moments around the world, particularly in Paris, my (second) home.
I hope you never see your dirty bitch again.