becoming unhinged
Now I know why all mental patients smoke like fiends. Smoking keeps back the darkness.
Even with the Nicorette gum, I’m jittery, anxious, tired and nervous. I can’t really relax. Really relaxing involves lighting up, sucking in that cool Carolina flavor and feeling my chest expand with smoke. Now, that’s relaxing.
Drinking water, staying busy, and chewing nicotine-laced gum in almost the opposite of relaxing. It’s like climbing oil coated stairs. When I take a deep breath, there’s only air, and I feel like – oddly enough – I can’t breath.
For over a quarter of a century my little tubular friends helped me hold back the darkness. Hell, they did all the work, all I had to do was inhale. How does anyone get through the day without twenty or thirty cigarettes???
I feel like I’m dying, though the exact opposite is happening; my lungs are starting to clear a bit and I have a little bit – and I mean just an iota – more of stamina.
I’m depressed and I’m starting to see things out of the corner of my eyes. Could cigarettes have been keeping me from developing psychosis? Is is just I haven’t pulled my hair back for two days and I’m see strands of hair? I guess we’ll know in a few weeks when I’m either starting my new health(ier) life or I’m strapped down to a gurney in a psych ward, listening to other patients scream about bugs.
Nothing’s making me feel better. I’ve done a bunch of chores but nothing gives me a sense of accomplishment because there’s no smoke reward. Even internet pornography isn’t helping, though I bravely gave it a try. I don’t know if actual physical contact with a living woman would even help at this point.
This is A DAY AND A HALF of quitting! What about a week and a half, a month and a half??
Since I went off the Chantix I’ve quit for a day or two here and there, but this is the worse. Maybe I’m motivated to quit so I know that there’s no cheating in the future. I think this is my last chance. Shit, just writing that made my heart race. I hate this, though I’m glad to be free of giving my money away to the pump jockey at the gas station, and not having to stand on my porch like a dumbass, looking at the muddy, spotty grass.
This is terrible.