B*tch, The Compartments Are Gone!

I'm a recovering cocaine addict. I have more than 9 years clean. Most days are great. I rarely think about it unless I'm doing something that reminds me of a time when I was doing it, which can be a lot, because I did it a lot. I do not tell people that I'm sober. Being sober has a connotation of not using any type of substance. Although I've never been a fan of alcohol, I drink during celebratory situations. I may have a drink to be social at a social event. Other than that, alcohol can kick rocks, big ones.

There is one substance that I did partake in up to this point. Marijuana has been a staple in my life since college. It was more so recreational until I was diagnosed Bi-polar. I was placed on medications to curb those racing thoughts, bouts of depression, and palpable anxiety fits that plagued me. The medications were horrible. Cryptic dystopian suicidal thoughts mixed with physical rejections from my body made me discontinue using those meds. I found that weed was more sustainable to my well-being both mentally and physically, or so I thought. I am now forty-nine years of age, about to be fifty, and my doctor has explained to me that I have to stop smoking.

After recovering from food poisoning recently, I felt as though smoking wasn't the same. I couldn't really smoke without a little cough and although small, my chest just didn't feel right. My doctor ran tests and sent me off to get x-rays of my chest. When the images came back, he told me he saw early signs of Emphysema. He told me that if I quit smoking weed now, I would be ok, and my lungs would be able to heal themselves. I get that, but when would I heal?

I'm in my last semester of finishing my BA. The workload is stifling. I am a stand-up comedian. Where is my career going? I'm in a relationship. Am I showing up for my partner? How's my family? How are my friends? I live in a country that's going backward in time, perpetuating white supremacy and anti-women, immigrant, and LGBTQIA hateful rhetoric are becoming commonplace...AGAIN. How am I making it? How am I getting through this? I've been compartmentalizing everything. Storing these events in my back of my mind to make room for the next events. Compartmentalization has become my life. It has become essential for me to do so in order to show up as my best self.

I fear I'm running out of room. Things are happening quickly in the world and every day there's something new occurring in which I don't have time to process, so I have to compartmentalize it. There are no more compartments. They have slowly but surely been occupied, and I don't know what to do. Normally, I would smoke some weed, sit in deep thought, and come up with a plan to deal with life's crazy occurrences. I can no longer do that. I am left to my own vices without aid, without assistance, and it sucks. I need a new vice, or a new coping mechanism. I may try vagina. I see how vagina has a magical hold on its constituents and seems to alleviate problems in a short period of time, almost instantly. I look forward to this new chapter in my life. The compartments are being emptied and being filled with the cradle of life.