Ok, ok...

So I slipped. About seven thirty tonight I remembered a half a cigarette sitting in the ashtray of my car.

I managed to get one of the doors open, without causing permanent damage, and I smoked it.

So, slip number one from complete cold turkey.

I don't have any more butts in the car. The next slip is going to require that I go somewhere to get it. Which will make it easier to resist.

The bad part is, it seems completely sensible to slip. After all, quitting will be so much easier if I don't tax my body too much, a complete cold turkey quit is a shock to the system, and makes a person feel like complete crap, whereas a tapering off... not so much. So why make it harder on my body?

That is, it seems sensible to slip, until after I've done it.

Admission of failure, even a small failure, is a thing that comes very, very hard to me. I've physically injured myself rather than give up on something that I've made up my mind to do, before.

I'm very stubborn. Usually.

I think addiction makes us all weak. Which totally sucks ass, if you ask me.

Perhaps...

I should explain.

I re-read that last post and I realized that some of you out there may not have any clear idea of why I'm so touchy.

Maybe you've never seen withdrawals, or maybe it's never been clear for you, or maybe you just don't give a crap but typing this keeps my hands busy so sit down, shut up and bear with me until I'm done.

Nicotine withdrawals are relatively mild, don't get me wrong. Nicotine withdrawals don't make you physically ill, the way, say, heroin does. At least not to the fever, nausea, just-kill-me-now point.

However, I'm only a few hours into complete nicotine withdrawal, and I know the symptoms from previous attempts. Most of them, for me, are psychological.

I'm jumpy, I'm nervous, I'm paranoid and suspicious of everything, my mind keeps popping up images of cigarettes to taunt me with and I can't focus for crap.

Meanwhile my hands tremble whenever a craving hits, I get slightly light headed on occasion and I find myself wanting to punch something roughly every five seconds. If I were a cat I'd be the one that follows people around mewing piteously until they try to pet it, whereupon it turns and rips their arms to shreds, only to resume mewing piteously and not understanding why they chase it with pitchforks.

The worst part is, I know that all of these are irrational responses, that I don't really need the nicotine to be a happy person, blah blah blah, all of the usual crap. I know all of that.

Which only makes me more frustrated when I can't control them. Which makes me want a cigarette to calm down. Which starts the whole thing over again, only worse.

And all of this means that every time someone invades my personal space bubble in a way I can't ignore, I want to squeeze their heads like a pimple until gray matter shoots out the top and I get to fingerpaint with it!

No, really. That's what my brain wants me to do, just in case the adrenaline rush of running from the cops in some way resembled the light headed dizzy rush I'd get if I had a cigarette right now.

So, now you may have a better insight into nicotine withdrawals, or maybe I'll read this in a week and go "wtf was I thinking?!?"

We'll see.

My Resolve

Not to kill people is being tested. Some strange man came knocking on my door.

Twice.

If I wanted to talk to him I'd have answered the door the first damn time he was standing out there dancing like he was about to wet himself.

If he comes back, I'm not promising he won't be crying when he leaves.

I mean seriously, what's the point of locking myself in my apartment to keep myself from being a complete and utter bitch to everyone around me by the simple expedient of not having anyone around me, if they're going to not only interrupt my TV show with a knock on the door, but provide such tempting targets for viciousness as well?!??

Who could resist being mean to an overweight balding guy who stands around outside of strange women's apartments wringing his hands and dancing from foot to foot, while staring around furtively?!?

Either he wanted to attack me or it was his very first time approaching a real live female of the species.

I'm in no real condition to distinguish, at this point. I'd probably assume the first just because it would let me beat someone...

It's Official

I smoked my last cigarette at around two this afternoon.

The weather is conspiring to help me, for once. I went out to the car to get a book, earlier, and my doors are frozen shut.

So, I can't go out and get cigarettes. Unless I walk. A long way. In the cold.

All incentive to stay the hell inside and deal with it like a man.

Even though, you know, I'm not. A man, that is.