I’m getting messages from people saying I’m doing an awesome job, you go girl, etc.
I’m still not ok.
I’m still reeling.
I haven’t bought a pack of Parliament Lights since 2012, when I found out “Afkah” had an affair. I took so hard. Smoked, cancelled clients, couldn’t sleep, and could barely get out of bed. I’m a health and fitness professional. It’s embarrassing that I was sitting in my Lululemons smoking cigarettes outside our old apartment. I smoked for about two weeks then and didn’t have another for a year at my Bachelorette party in San Diego. But that was actually a celebratory, drunken cigarette.
I don’t have the luxury to not get out of bed now. I have a precious human depending on me to entertain her, be upbeat for her, make her laugh, and basically keep her alive. She never sees my cry and I will never be anything but lovely to Afkah when she’s in the same room.
I bought a pack of cigs on Saturday. When Willa takes her morning nap I smoke. A lot. When Willa goes to sleep at night, I smoke. A lot. I realize it’s disgusting and I’m just hurting myself. That I’m the ultimate hypocrite; Fit With Ali chain-smoking. I’m giving myself till Friday night and that will be my last one.
My girlfriend gave me some pot for obvious reasons. When Afkah came into my house yesterday around 5pm my blood was boiling knowing this person I detest was in my presence. I was sweating, holding Willa, using my most excited and sweet voice saying to her, “Yay! Dada’s here! We love dada!!!” I handed her over to him, went into my bedroom, closed the door, went into the bathroom, closed that door and had a hit of a very potent joint. I blew it into the fan and kept the door closed till I left for my friend Amelia’s house an hour and a half later. Afkah wanted to get Willa’s books from my bedroom, I keep her fave books next to my bed, and was disgusted the room smelled like pot. She has maybe 100 books in her own room, use those you idiot. It’s my room, you see. You are taking care of Willa, stay the fuck out of my room. Unlike you, I don’t have my own apartment or my girlfriend’s apartment to escape to. I don’t have his address, know nothing about this stranger, but he has full access to my life. And I actually don’t really mind because I have NOTHING to hide. Go through my computer. I don’t care. Go through my phone. I don’t give a shit. He wanted to make me feel like I committed a crime by smoking while Willa was in the apartment. In the bathroom. MY bathroom. Into a fan. When he was taking care of her and I had no responsibility. Hashtag sorrynotsorry.
So that’s that. Wanted to keep it really real. I’m still thinking I’m hot and awesome, but I’m also still pretty fucked up and smoking cigarettes. I’ll be straight right now. Afkah told me that he thinks I’m writing to paint myself in a certain light. I disagree. I’ve said how sad I was, how I missed him, how I send horrible texts to him that he doesn’t deserve, (now we know he does deserve), I’m talking about online dating which is a bit embarrassing in itself. I think I’ve been completely raw and honest in what I say. He says I don’t know the whole truth and need to stop writing. That may be true, but I know what I know so that’s what I write. He was the impetus for this post. He said, “If your blog is so RAW, write about how you’re smoking cigarettes. Then write about the weed. And don’t skew it by saying you smoked it with friends outside the apartment. Write the complete truth: ‘I smoked weed in the apartment while Willa was also in the apartment.” So, yes. I smoked in my bathroom into a fan when Willa was on the other side of the place being taken care of by some person I’ve never met before. Oh wait, I mean her dad.
Thanks for reading.