i'm fine.
i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine i'm fine.
i'm actually feeling ok, so far... i had a moment of anxiety last night as i considered the last cigarette i'd smoke for at least a year, but then i chided myself about how dramatic i was being. as i'm chiding myself now. it didn't even taste that good, and i was just smoking for the sake of smoking.
smoking sucks. my lungs have gotten that heavy out of breath feeling--at nights, in the mornings, and randomly throughout the day. it's not worth it. it stinks. it's been making my tongue feel raw and yucky. it's disgusting. and blah. don't need it.
somehow, surprisingly, i have not yet gotten to the point where the smell of cigarette smoke is appealing. it's still grossing me out a little. although, i'm sure i'll have my moments where i can't bear it b/c it hurts, it sucks, and i just want to scream forever b/c i want to smoke so bad.
today, i was thinking about why i was quitting in the first place and it made me want to cry. my fucking principled: "no more degradation!" harrangue. damnit. i guess i had to deliver at some point.
obviously, my past has a few sharp and raw and tragic points but... i don't know. today, i wondered about today. i wondered about what his life is like. i wondered about his family, his mother, his brothers, my sister-in-law, and their baby--my "ex"-niece, Jael.
i'm curious about what's happened to the photos of him and i. in his mother's and his brother's house. i wonder if i have fallen out of their photo albums--i actually started one for my brother and sister-in-law b/c i was always the one w/ the camera. i organized dozens of photos of Jael from when she was born and of "family" gatherings. i left empty leaves for future photos which they began to fill over the years.
there were pictures of their awful ramshackled little farmhouse on the day that they moved out into the next little farmhouse. i was there when Jael was getting spaghettios all over her chubbed cheeks.
when she was becoming able to steady herself into a standing position in her crib, i snapped a shot of her smile between the bars.
i remember when she began to form words. Jael used to call me "Auntie Mohni" b/c she couldn't pronounce the "r" in my name.
i remember the first time her eyes her lit up w/ recognition when she saw me. eventually, she would come tearing over to me, thrilling that i had come to play.
i watched her curious machinations many times in that out of the way farmhouse. the breezes floating in, soft sunlight on the floor, her mother and i stretched out on that cushy brown couch. talking life.
i wonder if Jael will remember me. i am curious what her parents have said about me and her uncle. i am certain that i was an unusual figure in her life, the Korean auntie. i know that Jael was not exposed to many other Asian faces for the first few years of her life. i'll probably show up in a dream years from now and she'll wake up confused about the impossibility of an Asian aunt.
it aches a little. i wonder about today and am curious about my replacement. it's awkward, i'm sure. but their family never talked about such deep things. i'm sure his ma has removed all of those little bits of memorabilia, as to not upset the family balance.
i sent her a box of everything i could find that she had given to me over the years. all of the birthday and Christmas gifts. being the sentimental person that she is, i knew that doing this would break her heart. but, i had to do it. i don't know how a mother could stand so idly by while her son acted in such a cowardly and heinous manner. my God. how embarrassing. i'd kick my brothers' asses if they behaved that way.
but, his ma was always the balancer. she would always sweep things under the rug. like when her drunk husband would say something racist or try to do something inappropriate to me. my dear ex-father-in-law tried to lick my foot and grab my ass more than a few times. he said something disgusting about 'stroking' me to my ex. she never protested until i began to.
she stayed silent when her daughter-in-law would leave her w/ the baby all day so that she could take a nap. his ma just helplessly shrugged her shoulders when her sons would drink too much and then drive intoxicated through the woods to get more booze. she would whisper annoyances under her breath, but would pat their cheeks gently, and then cook them dinner.
don't get me wrong. she was a sweet woman whom i had grown to love over the years. but i was alarmed that she could watch her son completely fall apart in the way that he did and not insist that he get some help. thus, i returned everything i could find that she had given me. i told her that it was clear to me that she had never seen me to be the "daughter" that she had claimed i was. how fucking tragic, huh?
but, i'm sure life is moving on for them as mine is. at some point, i will be just a strange, incongruent memory of a person who entered for 9 years, and then left.
our parents. they had such expectations for us, our family. they had such ideas about what our lives would be like (what we were supposed to be) and the future of our bizarre dynasty. we could see it all, in a strange and awful way, but it was the motion picture of other people's lives.
neither of us really wanted it b/c of the dysfunctionality that existed between us. we knew we couldn't have that life and actually be happy in the state we were in. but he never wanted to talk about anything. and you should know, i really really did try to make him.
so, no more degradation, right? it's been a year since all of that horrible trauma began. i don't need to smoke anymore. i should grow and be better to myself, huh?
i just ache a little about it all.
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