The quitting smoking thing is going okay. I’m on day three without cigarettes Iamgoingtokillyouallgivemenicotine and it’s going alright. I now understand why people gain so much goddamn weight when they quit smoking – the urge to be putting something, ANYTHING, in your mouth is overwhelming when you’re a smoker. I’ve been trying to keep Mentos or some small mints around since chewing gum hurts like a bitch (bad teeth), but I’m still overeating constantly.
Seriously, fuck quitting smoking. I’m going through with it this time because I am NOT putting myself through this again. Keep in mind that normally I’m a pack and a half a day smoker, and prior to starting smoking around 18 years of age (roughly nine to ten years ago), I was essentially a half a pack a day smoker because I lived with two smoking parents and a smoking sister. So I’ve got 27 years of smoking under my belt, and I’m trying to quit this. I feel awful.
I legitimately thought I was dying the other day. I’m laying down to go to sleep and all of the sudden I realize my breathing is all weird. I’m inhaling and freaking out thinking I’m about to die and then I realize what’s different – suddenly there’s no rattle when I breathe in. I’m getting lots of oxygen and there’s no mucous blocking my lungs up and I can actually FILL my lungs to capacity. I panicked because I thought I was dying, when in reality I was just breathing like NORMAL people do.
Whoops.
I feel very bad for Kenny, who has to put up with this shit. I’m basically an emotional wreck because for me, tobacco was not just a physical addiction. It is a very real emotional and psychological addiction – I love cigarettes, I need them, and I’m kind of afraid of the world without them. I realized this last week, as I set the date to quit (Thursday). I started thinking about it and I was terrified to go around without cigarettes.
I realized how deep the addiction had gone, and I decided right then and there – fuck this, I refuse to let my life be ruled by tubes of fucking ground up plant matter. I refuse. So I think I’m going to get through this through sheer fucking stubbornness.
But yeah, Kenny. Poor guy. I’ve been popping neurontin (which is the drug I take to stabilize my bipolar disorder) like it’s fucking candy, and during the day I have to double my dose just to fucking function. And I’m still grumpy and snapping at people. Poor fucking Kenny. And poor fucking me when Kenny eventually quits (which he is planning on doing, hopefully in the next few months).
Fuck quitting smoking, dude.
I’m going to leave you on a semi-high note, and give you something I send a friend of mine when she was feeling down about herself. I felt very wise typing it.
Tasha: I’m gonna let you in a little bit of a secret, dude.
Tasha: No one is whole.
Tasha: No one escapes adolescence without scars. Everyone’s a bit broken.
Tasha: Seriously.
Tasha: The world is not a kind place.
Tasha: You do not get out of childhood unbroken.
Tasha: If it’s not abuse, it’s a teacher who berated you and made you feel less than.
Tasha: Or a rape.
Tasha: Or molestation
Tasha: Or being told you’re stupid.
Tasha: Everyone is broken a little bit.
Tasha: What makes you into an adult is the moment you decide, yeah, I’m broken, but that’s what superglue is for, goddamnit.
