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This is my story, from my perspective as a child.

I sat there profusely breathing fresh oxygen into and out of my lungs as fast as I could. I knew I only had seconds left before the swirl of smoke would engulf my lungs. I breathed in and out with a fierce determination to suck in every precious molecule before I had to bury my head deep inside my lap.

The driver’s window went down about 2 inches and I knew I was out of time. I felt a great foreboding in my throat, as hot tears stung my eyes. There was no more hope for me. I suddenly heard the deathly sound of the cigarette lighter pop out.

I watched as my dad lit his cigarette. I took one last deep gulp of the precious air inside our Volkswagen, and began to hold my breath, at the exact same time he took one deep drag off of his repugnant and foul-smelling lit cigarette.

I held my breath as long as I could. I then began making convulsing sounds in the backseat. My dad looked in the rearview mirror with his beady black eyes staring at me with great annoyance and impatience for my “childish behavior.” But I thought he was being selfish and childish for intentionally destroying his lungs, and mine too, for that matter.

I longed for another opportunity to take that cigarette lighter out of the car and throw it in the dumpster. I loved thinking of all the possible ways to destroy his cigarettes. It brought great satisfaction to my resolute soul knowing I had just made it harder for him to harm himself, and those within breathing distance, like me! I hated the smell of cigarette smoke. It made me want to vomit.

There were more nights than I can count where I would sneak into his room like a stealthy sleek jaguar and silently go after my prey. I would so quietly slip my hand into his pockets full of change and paper receipts and cautiously pull out his cigarette lighter and cigarettes. At times, I would have to wait until I heard the deep rumble of his snoring. That always helped mask any possible noise I may have made.

Before I knew it, I was on my way down the stairs as a feeling of total accomplishment rushed over me. I quickly turned on the bathroom light and took the cigarettes out of the box and violently smashed and twisted them into the toilet bowl full of blue water.

I couldn’t wait to get up for my early morning run and drop the lighter into the dumpster. My dad never used to lock his Blazer, however, as many cigarette lighters as he had to replace, he made sure all vehicle doors were locked.

I would get grounded and probably was beat with the belt, but I didn’t care! I had a job to do and a mission to accomplish. I had to rid this world of cigarettes and anything like it. No one was going to stand in my way.

My name is Trisha Jamison and many years later, I have become a health and wellness coach, life coach, fitness instructor and soon to be a Functional Nutritionist Practitioner.

My dad’s many addictions helped launch my healthy mindset–I knew what life I didn’t want, and I couldn’t wait to live a life full of dreams and ambitions with 6 children in tow. My desire to learn and teach about wellness was kick-started by my less-than-perfect upbringing. I have gleaned so much in my 53 years of life. I will share my journey with you, while, in turn, walking you through your own life’s journey.

I have so much to share with you in regards to health, emotional wellness, fitness, accepting yourself, forgiving those who have wronged you, self-sabotaging behaviors, working with difficult personalities, having a voice, confidence, belly bloat, inflammation, food sensitivities, empowering yourself to be your best self and sooo much more. Suggestions are always welcomed for specific topics that interest you!

Up next, an introduction to who I am, and how I know my experiences can help shape a healthier you.

Last week, my husband, Dr. Jamison told me I should start a blog. That same day I heard from a mentor to also start a blog. So, here it is my first blog, with frequent blogs to follow! See you soon!

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