I want pot brownies

If the world were to end tomorrow, I'd eat pot brownies today. I'm a recovering drug addict, if you use "recovering" loosely. Some might call me a "dry drunk" because I don't go to AA or NA meetings and I'm craving, and maybe that label fits a bit. Really, though, I'm an odd size and nothing fits very well. Regardless of labels, I'd like a pot brownie tonight. And tomorrow night. And especially Friday and Saturday night. In fact, I'd eat fucking pot brownies all weekend if I wasn't so scared of killing myself in the face of crushing apathy or going to jail or disappointing everyone in my life.

I told a friend today I wanted some of the sweet herb. He told me he'd give me some. He told me he'd bake it into a brownie, that I shouldn't have too much since I've been clean for 11 years, that the art of growing potent pot has been perfected since 2000, and if I started to get out of control (again) he would be a good friend and reel me in. So really, I don't have anything to worry about. Sans knowing if the world is ending tomorrow, I can go ahead and eat the fucking pot brownie because my friend has my back.

Why am I trying to escape? I don't feel particularly "bad." I am, however, quite conscious of some others in my head screaming a lot and wanting to punish myself. My therapist says this self-punishment thing is based in deep seated toxic shame. Many of us are working this idea much of the time. On the one hand, a shame-based me is a painfully obvious observation. My behaviors and feelings and repetitive thought processes clearly declare a deep well of shame. On the other hand, I don't know what I am ashamed about. I know what happened to me as a child, I know it wasn't my fault, I know the feelings (physical and emotional) were expected and can be explained reasonably. It's so fucking frustrating that I can't find the disconnect between the logic and the feelings and just simply connect them. Or maybe I can....and that's why I  seek a luscious pot brownie.

These red herrings I toss before my selves, red herrings like beating myself up over craving pot brownies, they would make a nice sandwich. Followed by dessert - and you know what I want for dessert.