Well, it's time to be truly brave.
I just finished a pack, and I'm not buying any more.
I'm afraid I'm going to be a dang MESS!
The last time, it was really hard.
Of course, I had a horrible job and had to sit there, twelve hours a day, with nothing to do but obsess on not smoking.
And I'm emotionally wide open these days. I'm concerned about how I'll handle things without self medicating.
I keep reaching for the pack that isn't there today, whenever I wonder how many of flavors of idiot I've made myself, sending that email.
But I was thinking about booze: how it's obvious to me, as a nonalcoholic, that booze doesn't make anything better.
I bet that's true of cigs, too. Only to those of us addicted does the substance seem to "help." It's the dopamine receptors.
But I'm thinking this self love process I'm in may help. I seem quite capable, thank you, of feeling pleasure.
The withdrawl? I have no idea how that'll be.
I figure: the best thing I can do is drink lots of fluids, breathe, eat wholesome foods, be kind to myself, rest a lot and avoid crazy people.
I may have to hide in here for awhile.
Since I can get harrassed so easily out there, I see no sense in endangering myself more than I have to.
But I can't use the stress at the station as an excuse any more.
I HAVE no excuses any more!
Sorry to say, I dread Food Not Bombs tomorrow. My body's hurting from the hike. My heart's hurting from exposure. And I won't be self medicating on nicotine.
I hope I don't kill anybody! LOL
It'll probably be just fine; I worry; it doesn't help.
So, no more cigarettes. Period.
Nothing's better because I have a cigarette.
It's only pain. It's only fear. It's only grief.
I'm ok.
No comments:
Post a Comment