Happy Valentines Day to me

I read a quote on Facebook by Krista-Lynn Landolfi that touched me yesterday. It read "I could tell you that I love you, but really, it will not matter until you love yourself".

That inspired me. I have never been a fan of this Hallmark holiday, proabably due to the fact that I married my first husband on Valentines Day 1989, a mere month after turning eighteen. I was co-dependant and he was alcoholic. As was my father. As was my second husband. As is my current partner. Just as I have with most of the things that have hurt me in this lifetime, I made a joke out of it.

"I have a penchant for alcoholics. If my current relationship doesn't work out I'm going to hang around AADAC and find someone who can admit they have a problem..."

Who REALLY has the problem here? lol

The interesting thing about all of these relationships (with the exception of my father) is that while we were dating...I refused to see the warning signs. Oh, they were there, alright. For some reason, I chose not to read the writing on the wall. And it was so big and bold I can't believe I missed it.

I started smoking again less than 3 days after my quit date of February 6. My smoking is about much more than an addiction to nicotine. It has been the balm that has numbed me from my own feelings of anger and self-hatred.

I learned to hate myself when I was a child, because loving myself meant hating a parent. I learned that my feelings were "stupid" and that I was "too sensitive" and I "wasn't like the other kids in the family". I believed that I didn't deserve the awesomeness that other claimed in their lives. I learned to detach from myself completely and become a "doer of things". Leaving the world of my own emotions, I opened myself to the energies of others, to ensure that I would be aware enough to know what others expected so I didn't get yelled at. Most of the time, I was yelled at anyhow. Believing I was inherantly flawed, not deserving of my own effort, I placed my energy into placating others.

I started to think back to previous quit attempts...and what got me started in the first place. I have smoked for so long (at 15 I was already sucking back a pack a day) that I have a hard time remembering what it felt like before I was a smoker. My longest quit attempt was 6 months. Two months into my quit, I had decided that enough was enough, I couldn't do it any longer, I was going to the store and getting cigarettes. I reasoned that if I were going to buy cigarettes, I should walk, giving myself an opportunity to think this through and perhaps talk myself out of it. As I walked I became aware of someone coming up behind me and I moved to the edge of the sidewalk, and a runner jogged by.

This was no ordinary jogger. She had to be 70 years old. I stopped and watched as she disappeared out of sight and then abruptly turned and walked home, without the cigarettes. To this day I have no idea who that lady was, but wherever you are...you were a true inspiration to me!

An hour later I was at the Running Room, purchasing shoes and socks. I started running the next day. With some difficulty, I started running for three minutes, and then walking for one minute for a total of maybe 40 minutes. In two months I was running for 10 minutes and walking for one minute and was covering 5k four or five mornings per week! My skin was clear, I had energy abound, my body was better that I had ever seen it (and I was already in my mid 30's). I entered a contest for a marathon in Bermuda and was accepted to be part of Team 96X. I was ecstatic!

I started smoking less than a week after being accepted into the marathon.

What the fuck went wrong here?

I think I finally know.

I couldn't accept it. I couldn't accept my victory. I didn't love myself enough to feel like I deserved it. I knew myself to be weak, bad, someone to be ashamed of. Not someone to be celebrated for an achievement such as this. Believing that I was an imposter...I couldn't hold onto this. Plus, if I was so worthy, I might have to start owning it in my personal relationships with the cute villians I surrounded myself with to remind me of my own unworthiness.

I was supported by everyone around me (well, almost everyone, lol) and was told over and over how great I looked. I had put on some muscle, was toned and and carried myself differently. Yet somehow, I just couldn't own it.

Until I love myself, all of me, the light and the dark, giving up smoking will be difficult to impossible. I can take the physical part, its the "you don't matter" that keeps me coming back. Cigarettes are like my weapon of self bludgeoning. Until I see myself and my addiction with a sense of humour and compassion, this habit will keep me from believing that I deserve success, love, and freedom.

What came first? Obviously to start smoking you have to be detached from the idea that you are making a choice that could kill you. You have to feel like you don't matter to even begin this silly habit.

This weekend, I choose to love myself no matter what I choose to do. I believe I will detach from this easily when I feel deserving of the good things life has to offer.

Until next time...