graham

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Making stuff to distract myself from existential dread

Art: @graham-illustrations
Dreams: @graham-dream-journal
Wizards: @make-up-a-wizard
Partner's Pottery: @kp-pottery


My mom smokes cigarettes, and she has since before I was born as a way to combat postpartum depression and stress. I grew up regularly complaining about the smell of them, despite the effort she went through to "only smoke outside during the warm months" or "always sit by the fireplace with the flue open and a candle lit in the cooler months." I ruined multiple family-vacations when I was younger trying to set ultimatums for her to quit, thinking that she just didn't understand how big of a deal it was to the rest of us in my family.

She has quit, several times over. Each time has gone well for a bit, and then she inevitably drops into a deep depression. I used to think that the challenge was that she just didn't want to commit to quitting enough and that she was experiencing withdrawal symptoms. It may have been partly withdrawal, but there were more complex factors at play in her continual depression and migraines than I was willing to recognize at the time.

I used to think that everyone should always prioritize their health above all else, even being corrected on their behavior, since surely a longer life was a better one. I've since come around to the idea that there are trade-offs that people need to make for themselves, and the quality of life drastically decreases in the US after a certain age, so living longer doesn't necessarily mean being happier. What's all that extra life worth living if you're miserable for all those bonus years?

list of microblogvember prompts
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