At the time I'm writing this post (April 20th, the 2nd anniversary of my mother's death) I'm on the third day of recovery after quitting my last bad habit. I now do absolutely nothing that is unhealthy for my body. Quitting this last thing won't make much difference; it's not about living longer, or being healthier, really. It's about shedding the final toxic influence of my past, and finding peace.
It's taken me 50 years to get to a place where I could let go of my last bad habit. My physical issues, some of which will never heal, were the main problem, I think, although I've had plenty of emotional issues, too, including severe depression. Most of the things we do that are bad for us are a form of self-medication.
I define it as the weight of existence. By the time you get toward the end of your life, you may carry a lot of burdens and secrets and trauma that you can't comfortably share with anyone. Those are really hard to lug around, but they tend to stay with you no matter what you do to cope. Bad habits really provide only temporary comfort, and do nothing to heal you. Once you realize that, you can let go if you want to. I do.
Choosing to live for yourself, in the moment, and refusing to share that space with anyone or anything that is not beneficial to you, is a very selfish thing to do. I've never put myself first, so even the process seems alien to me. Yet after 50 years of financially, physically and emotionally supporting others, and giving myself almost no attention other than what I needed to do to keep going in my servitude, I decided it's time to focus on me. This is just another milestone in pursuit of that goal.
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