me; seen in Seminole, Florida, 2003 to 2007, smoking 4 packs a day accompanied by 20 oz glasses, or more?, of fridge water. Sitting by the small window in the kitchen by the glass paneled door. With a small fan.
Satanic possession? Opioid-like addiction? Sleeping beauty under a spell?
I had entirely quit a horrible MASTURBATION HABIT.
The smoking had always been a red flag and POSITIVE as such in the worst way.
I had taken a vow as a 17-year-old young woman to kill myself by the time I was 35 years old by smoking myself to death by giving myself cancer.
After my father tried to touch my breasts when I had just sent in applications to Harvard, Princeton, Yale, and some other such schools.
I was trying to escape Kent School FOR THE REASON OF MY SEXUAL DISABILITY THERE; although I wouldn’t have been able to tell you so in an ordinary way at that time. Nobody understood. That was the reason for the condition of life that led me to jump at the chance to apply to these colleges when I found out I had 750 750 on my SATS’s.
For my hope.
So, maybe it doesn’t sound so awful (his trying to touch my beasts) but. it was.
So, as for the smoking; the Lord takes a vow very seriously.
“Let your yea’s be yea’s and your nays be nays.”
He took me to Harvard–the Lord did.
The Yale interviewer said “Harvard will take you.”
I knew that way to accept the invite even though I had horrible misgivings over it after what he, my father, did.
I moved into a room with 2 other young women, having asked for non-smoking roommates. I figured that I wanted to quit. I don’t know why they didn’t throw me out for that.
Roommate S. had my application essay about running away from home–she showed it to everybody without asking my permission.
I was not just smoking but chain-smoking. In the fire place. Many Harvard dorms are old-fashioned with fireplaces and there was one in several of the rooms we stayed in.
She even asked me to continue to be her roommate and we did then room together throughout the rest of our stays. Her father was hi-tech like mine, and even knew my father. I guess that was what that was about.
I am sensing that I can take that relationship out from under wraps now. I have not gone anywhere near that for decades. I have grown up now.
So, since back then everything in Society has gone against smoking and in my head today I have finally reasoned out what needs to be said by me here now today. About smoking. My own, and others’
It was such a relief to finally lose the smoking after the early fatal overdose in November of 2016; I am still in the process of waking up from that. I was on a locked ward for over a year after that with part of it spent with passes permitted where I could smokie a little but for the most part there was maybe 6 or 8 cigarettes a week. The smoking. I was broken of the smoking. It took the entire 8 months on the Extended Acute Care Unit.
When I got out, and came here to my father’s house, I was smoking about 4 cigarettes a day and was pleased to have the use of my hands back. Most of my life was spent entirely absorbed with smoking cigarettes
Because of Kent School where smoking was not permitted, I never had an appropriate sense of proportion about the cigarettes. It was self-limiting because it had to be done out in the woods. That was one weird thing about being a Kent alum; we recall things happening in the woods that ordinarily wouldn’t.
And then I hit this thing with my father over the Christmas Holiday, Senior Year, and, when I finished Kent School that Spring, I jumped in bed with an Italian man about 10 years older, back in Summit, NJ, who was playing Jesus in the Rock Opera, Jesus Christ Superstar. (I was a chorus member.) I was helplessly smoking three packs a day and didn’t know how to stop. I was getting ready to say goodbye and go to Cambridge to matriculate at Harvard, and was standing in the driveway of the house in Summit helplessly crying. He had said, “I can’t marry you.”
So, then, I had to deal with Harvard and it was HARD there.
But, as for the smoking, it continued.
It is probably one good reason why I ended up at the state hospital here in PA in 1986.
In Cambridge, before I came here to go to the state hospital, I discovered that the psych ward was a place where you could hang out all day smoking cigarettes and talking to people and I desperately wanted to stay.
Smoking is like alcohol, there is a connection between smoking and sexuality for those who smoke and, obviously, as anybody who has ever heard of me knows I have a sexual disability. and that is another place where the smoking was a necessary red flag.
Unfortunately I connected the psych ward as a place to be sexually active in a way I cant really understand but it led me to terrible trouble once I got to the state hospital and was targeted for sex by someone else there who was sexually depraved.
So, I was handing out cigarettes and candies and living a half-unconscious fantasy that I was the good witch of the North or the Virgin Mary or something like that!
This was all encouraged by my mother, whose brother was in a state hospital in England with water on the brain or something and she missed him and wanted to be like her mother who had a child in an institution. And of course he smoked and was always asking her to send him money for cigarettes and things.
Then, I was out of the state hospital, staying away from sex, and desperately wanting to quit smoking. As I have said, there was always a negative pall to it partly with it being against the rules at Kent School.
Finally, at the age of 59, I see the POSITIVE VALUE of smoking. IT IS A GOOD. I DON’T FEEL BAD going to the tobacco store to buy my self-roll tobacco machine products. I used to but that was how I learned.
There is NOTHING BAD about smoking. Just like alcohol. It needs to be appropriately limited and controlled that’s all.
People just like to pick on smokers, it’s something people have convinced themselves is a worthy cause that isn’t. it is an absolutely terrific pleasure, in moderation.
Often when I smoke I am conscious of “taking counsel”–as in the Native American use of tobacco. Honestly to me it seems un-American to try to get rid of smoking. It is an herbal remedy for anxiety. It gives you a little lift like a shot of caffeine.
Obviously the odor on a person and in a room; and the problems of smoking flaring out of control are an issue. But alcoholism is as bad and we don’t ban it.
Despite drunk driving fatalities and alcohol playing a role in domestic abuse as well as liver disease.
I don’t drink. That is a parameter of MY condition that is a good. I appreciate that a good part of the community enjoys alcohol beverages as I once did but now I don[‘t and I enjoy this.
If I was able to quite the psych meds that cause me not to be able to take alcohol I would. But I look at these old pictures of myself and old friends that I have dug out and I see that in all of them not only am I obviously smoking 3 packs a day but also drunk.
All these things were red flags about me at that time and, of course, I now remember my behavior then, especially how I talked sometimes, and I am embarrassed.
I am so sorry about how it got resolved over all these years and I am still picking up the pieces. But, I wont take back the smoking. It is the OPPOSITE of the Yul Brynner ad about smoking 5 packs a day–back in the late 70’s–when he found out he was dying of lung cancer at the age of 50. He says, “I wish I could take back the smoking.”
I am VERY GLAD I DID! But, according to info I have from my son when he was little, I could still fall ill from lung cancer and shrivel up within a week and die. And I would just have to accept this. I lived by the smoking. If it comes that I have to die by it, then it does. It WILL BE ACCORDING TO THE LORD’S WILL if that happens.
I was self-medicating.
Because the psych meds/psych treatment wasn’t covering it.
Today, I have Jesus for the magic that was missing.. Maybe the Lord will lead me to quit. It will remain true that I could suddenly succumb to lung cancer or heart disease. It is one of many scars of my illness. And a badge of courage.
So, people need to get off the soap box about smoking. There are pros and cons. It’s not all bad. In my life, it played a part in a modern day fairy tale, an urban legend like the Sleeping Beauty; the paradigm shift from Cambridge MA, 1985 to Buffalo, NY, 1993 when my son was born; a Christian allegory.
My ex and I joined forces as pack-a-day, Marlboro LIghts smokers, after I threw the Marlboro “Reds” at the door in the murky garage where I was relinquished by my mother.
He rescued me from there and we have been working that ever since.
Back in Cambridge in the 80s and back at the beginning of the 20th century, smoking was writerly and I understood when I read part of Kurt Vonnegut’s “Cat’s Cradle” the serious impact of smoking on tone in writing; Tolstoy (I think it was Tolstoy) pointed out that if you are wanting to smoke you aren’t ready to write. So, there is a little bit of an issue there. My old literary acquaintances from college were generally smokers. Back then; I don’t know about now.
So, back in late 1985 I took that awful trip to San Francisco where I gained some mad skills by getting lost in downtown Sand Francisco and having to find my way back to former roommate S.’s apartment. It was necessary to adjust my compass at that point and I did. Without realizing that that was what I was doing.
I found my way. On to places where I wasn’t deemed evil for smoking. I just shouldn’t have asked for non-smoking roommates.