So apparently I'm not the bringer of the armageddon. I've not had a smoke and do not have a patch on and the world is still turning on it's axis. It is true that there in the imprint of a teenager's face on a train in Melbourne. In my defense, they shouldn't have called me Sir.
The hardest times not to smoke is after lunch. The after food smoke is one of the most delightful parts of my day. I used to look forwards to it rapturously. Now I grind my teeth, scowl at the computer and wonder if I could apply for justifiable homicide? It wouldn't be anyone important. Just a customer who has an overinflated sense of self-worth.
Sorry, I had a craving for a smoke and it hit just as the customer opened their mouth. The result was that my withdrawal applied an even sharper edge to my tone. I never knew that my tone could leave a papercut. Shame.
Nervous habits are also on the increase. The wringing of the hands. Random scratching of some parts of the body. Constantly looking to keep track of where everyone around me is. I don't think I've ever experienced this before. It's like a brief but accute sense of paranoia. As I have previously been advised, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there isn't an invisible monster infront of you read to eat your face.
There really are no tips and tricks to help with this one. Just breathe through it. In and out, nice and calm.
There you go, quiet and relaxed.
Calm and tranquil.
What do you mean that you don't want to pay you're $1,500 bill because no one told you that we bill power and gas seperately? How about you go fu....
I'm quite happy with myself... I have been without a smoke for an extended period now. I even went out with a smoker and while there was some passive smoking, I knocked back the one that I was offered.
Needless to say, normally no smoking and training to do not go well for me. Today was an exception to the rule. I am getting better at this no smoking thing. I have been pleasant (normally) and personable (occasionally) of late. I'm actually finding myself more tolerable to deal with than I used to be.
Tomorrow is going to be the test. I am going to go off the patches. This will end one of two ways.
- They got it wrong. The apocalypse doesn't happen in October, it happens in April and starts in Melbourne, Australia.
- I realise that I can do this and my will power to be smoke free is stronger than my cravings.
I've found another side effect of quitting smoking. I have more energy and am feeling fitter. That may also be the fact I now chase down people who have annoyed me to beat the intelligent. Let's be honest, I can't beat an smart person senseless. A smart person wouldn't piss me off given my quit smoking campaign.
I'm actually thinking that I should have asked for sponsorship to quit smoking. For every week that I go without a smoke, my sponsors donate an undecided amount of money to cancer research. That would have been smart to organise before deciding to quit.
Countdown until works end begins 7:00 am AEST tomorrow morning when I leave for work without my patch on. Lord have mercy on our souls.
Here we go... another week with giving away the smokes. My moods... well... let's not go there. After the weekend I may or may not need a new TV after being tempted to throw the xbox controller at it. Reports that I beat a man senseless as a result of saying "Good morning" are grossly incorrect. He was senseless before I touched him.
I never realised just how itchy nicotine patches can be. The desire to scratch it off if just phenomenal. For those who have chicken pox and remember how much that itched - this is more intense and in one centralised spot. I would start scratching at it but I worry that I may gouge a hole in the patch and shred the skin underneath.
On the upside, my acidic tongue has lessened. Now I can make people wilt at a glance. Not even the paint at work is immune. That's a good thing. The building really does have ugly colours overall.
The other surprise that I found is that not only has my energy increased but also so has my libido. I never knew that smoking affected the sex drive. I realised that it affected lung capacity and prolonged heavy breathing can be a bit detrimental in the bedroom but not that the actual drive itself dropped.
Another side effect is I have had an increase it acne. Yeah, gross side effect but it's another side effect that I wasn't aware would occur. These are the things they don't tell you about when you decide to quit smoking. This is easily solved by taking an extra 30 seconds in the morning rituals but using a facial scrub daily rather than 3 times a week and using a loofa in the shower.
Weekends are always going to be the challenge for me with smoking. I'm so used to walking outside and having a smoke, I need to find something else to do during those times. I've found that going downstairs and changing where the knives and forks sit in the cutlery draw just doesn't fill the void. Even with my housemate's OCD. This weekend I think I'll just change the order of the draws.
Let me severely beat my head against a brick wall. As previously advised, I am not finding quitting the easiest to do. My temper is getting the better of me and all I can think about is bludgeoning something until I feel better. Why not people who don't appreciate my comedic wit.
I've found that salt and vinegar chips aren't bad at combating my cravings and have made me somewhat more pleasant to deal with. I know that I'm having a craving because my just below my shoulder blades feel tense and I also find my tongue pressing against the top of my mouth. Recognising the craving has become a good way of swallowing down my acidic remark and instead smiling scornfully. I get the pleasure of being derisive to the customer and they get to hear a smile over the phone... that's pretty win/win to me.
I'm still to work out just how to beat this creature that's brewing and get past my desire to smoke. Sure, recognising the craving for what it is helps but it doesn't help me get past it. There's only so much salt and vinegar that you can eat before you feel slightly nauseated. At this stage, I feel like I've been sucking on butchers paper that had been wrapped around fish and chips.
What surprises me is the way that people just expect me to smile and not want to kill them. It's a challenge, believe me. I'm not entirely sure I can manage but am struggling along all the same.
Pros:
- I am feeling healthier.
- I am going to live longer
- I am better off financially.
- I am getting my sense of taste back.
- I am getting my sense of smell back.
Cons:
- I've found that I need to replace several colognes that don't smell as good as I thought.
- That chicken sandwich I used to get from the food court - not nearly as nice as I thought.
- Spending the money saved on anti-smoking aids.
- I am going to have to put up with certain people longer than originally expected.
The pros outweigh the cons (just.) Guess I'll keep soldiering on with the quitting smoking.
After failing to quit on my previous attempt, I've been determined that this go around I'll succeed. Unfortuantely, I have idiots who talk to me. These aren't run of the mill idiots that I deal with daily. These are Super Idiots. They are people who failed preschool twice before being allowed into first grade out of pity. I never knew that there were so many of them out there.
Apparently the little patches of nicotine which are adhered to my body don't blot out blatant stupidity from people. "I moved out on the 24th February but my account is still open." Actually, no it's not. We closed it 23rd February like you requested when you called us. If you read your invoice you would know this. You bleeding moron. My your ears bleed with the absolute contempt of which I treat you.
I am entirely unsure of how people cope with quitting smoking. The homicial instincts which have taken control is nothing short of amazing. I have been able to mentally picture roasting over a roaring fire. Unforunately, it doesn't appear that idiodicy is flamable and it just congeals on the firewood. A shame really.
At times it almost feels like I have ants crawling under my skin the withdrawals are taking such a toll on me. I desperately want to have a smoke. I keep going to reach into my backpack for a pack but get frustrated and want to scream when I realise I don't have a pack in there. There's also a tension knot right at the base of my neck which doesn't help at all.
The saving grace is that I've found the song that is being used on all the G.I. Joe trailer's at the moment. The angry wail of guitar and thumping drums is soothing to the soul and calms my nerves. They say music tames the savage beast. In this case, the music isn't taming it, it's beating it down with a bit of 2x4.
If I look irritated, I probably am. The safest bet is to turn your head, don't make eye contact and run in the opposite direction. Agreed? Good. Now go away.
So after being more on and off the wagon than Whitney, I'm back to being determined that I will kick this addiction. I have a patch firmly in place and a resolve that's a plentiful as Tiger Wood's lovers.
There have been a few hiccups along the road to quitting to the point that I gave it away for nearly a month. I'm back however and determined that this time, it will be more successful than Elizabeth Taylor's marriages.
One of the added bonuses with my endeavours to quit smoking is that in the last three months, I've managed to drop 11 kgs. Since reducing the amount I smoke, I've found I've had more energy and that has resulted in an ability to exercise more and a healthier way of living. I've gone from 86 kgs down to 75 kgs. I'm now down to a pair of size 32 pants. I feel healthier and happier with my body shape now.
Unfortauntely, I've found that a shorter fuse than normal has come back. Rather than taking 5 minutes to irk me, it now takes approximately 2.5... seconds. There is only so much nice I can make when dealing with incompetent boobs. People need to realise that yes, I do think you're an idiot. No, I won't apologise for thinking of them in that light and yes, I will most likely tell you what I think.
As it stands the excess carbon monoxide is out of my body and I am still have not been arrested for murder. All in all, this is a good sign. I am still willing to take names and details of people who are willing to give character references at my murder trial.
Yes, the rumors are true. I'm starting a band. It's called Fall Off the Wagon Boy. Songs off the album will include 'Oops! I Smoked It Again' and the classic 'Spin Spin Smoker'.
Due to extenuating circumstances over the last week, I picked up a packet of cigarettes and started smoking again. Not as heavily as I was but enough that I felt guilty about it. I am now, however, back on the band wagon and quitting the horrible addiction.
The patch is firmly attached to my skin and my palms are sweaty as my world gets rocked by another craving. The irrational desire the break something courses through my veins. My fuse has shortened even further to the point that telling someone where to go results in them looking forwards to the journey because it means that they are out of my reach. I have realised that working in complaints while quitting smoking does not bode well for creating harmony between upset customer and dispute resolution staff members.
It's not all doom and gloom though. There are some uplifting moments for me to bask in. The fact that I can't stop coughing is one of them. I haven't been able to work out why I can't stop coughing and why I feel like I'm constantly choking on fluid. It was explained to me that after not working for so long, my lungs are now cleaning themselves. Certainly a step in the right direction.
The other exciting moment for me was when a friend called by and stepped through the front door. I asked him how heavily he had been smoking as it was so strong and overpowering. He said that he'd only had one in the last two hours. My sense of smell is returning. Walking home some days, my mouth won't stop watering with all the delicious aromas which waft out from people's homes.
The downside to my sense of smell returning is I've realised that some of my favourite colognes don't smell as good as I thought the did. I have only felt nausea once recently and it was after spraying myself with what was originally an expensive cologne. On a side note, I have an awesome door stop these days.
Just stop talking to me. Your voice is grating and I am just as likely to stab you with a stress ball.
I thought I had weathered the worst of my cravings. Apparently not. The incessant grating of my nerves against sandpaper is horrid. The intense urge to strangle idiots is overwhelming.
Breathe through the pain, breathe through the pain. It's like a gay man's mantra really.
The ability to concentrate on anything is shot to pie... hey look a new email... what was I saying? Disofficer attention... attention deficit... what were you saying? Hi!
There are so many things that I could rant out but where to start? The lying customer's? There lips were moving... that's how I knew they were lying. The showdown between the nervous ranga and smug know it all in the Australian government? Maybe how my entire chest and sides hurt before from having a coughing fit. Perhaps... no, never mind. I'm having a bad day. Let's just leave it at that.
I think I may just put my head on my desk (beat it repeatedly) and have a bit of a nap (knock myself out). This may mean a difficult conversation explaining why I was sleeping (out cold) while at work (in hell).
Really, I don't know why I get out of bed some days - I really don't.
For once there will be an entry with no wails or torment or crying about how horrid the day was. Actually, apart from the rising mercury (the day is currently 36 degrees Celsius), the day went quite well.
Today is the first day that I haven't felt the need to use violence against inanimate objects to prove a point. Thursday, it was a defenseless plastic cup. Friday, saw my wrath escape towards my work shoes. I no longer have work shoes. Consequently, I do have a spare zipper and a few scraps of leather. Today has been subdued. No destruction. No tantrums. A day that was desolation free.
This calm and near serenity... it's a little ray of hope that I may be able to kick smoking once and for all. I may now be able to tell people proudly that I am a reformed smoker. Here's hoping that once I do, I don't turn into my father and a loud mouthed reformed smoker... the ones that everyone hates. You know one... just thin... Yes, them. I saw that recognition in your eye. They are a reformed smoker. The scourge of all evil in things tobacco related.
Is this the eye of the storm? Have I entered some strange limbo where my body isn't quite sure what is going on and someone is about to jump up from behind the couch yelling "SURPRISE!"
Of course, the logical reaction to that is to shoot them but that's neither her nor there. They shouldn't have broken into my paranoia and hidden behind the couch.
With all this aside, I believe it is time to walk out into the daylight, burn through three layers of skin in 2.5 minutes and returned something a little better than a charred corpse.
BLINDING PAIN!
I would rather be forced to listen to a Hanson and Rebecca Black duet... make this hurting stop! Feeling the stabbing pain in my brain. The banging and throbbing of desire for a smoke is like nothing I have experienced before. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. In with calm and out with hate. In with venom and out with acid. Wait, no wrong. In with calm and out with hate.
I knew that this would never be an easy task. I knew it was going to be a trial that would test my patience and endurance. I didn't realise just how much. That small child that was running in the park out the front. It's cheerful, happy laughter ringing clearly through the air. The melodious tinkle that make most people smile. There's a slave trade in Melbourne, who knew?
I have smiled and nodded politely. I have grimaced and looked away. I have belted an unsuspecting teenager's head against a brick wall. They cried. It was nice.
I have had highs and lows today. I have laughed and I have snarled about people's blatant stupidity who asked me how today is going. How the hell do you think it's going? Do my glowing red eyes not give it away? How about the fact that when I touch a crucifix it bursts into flames? The fact small animals flee from my path should tell you that I'm. Not. Fucking. Happy.
The messages of support have been amazing and I can't say how much I appreciate them. I even got an offer for someone to be a character witness in my murder trial. My solicitor has been pre-warned.
The weekend is nigh. My heaviest smoking time. Let's see how this goes. I may make the Rudd vs Gillard saga look like something from Twilight - star crossed lovers who tremble at the sign of a toothpick. A story of a choice between bestiality and necrophilia as told by a teenage girl.
Breathe in, breathe out. Neighbors arguing in Cantonese. Breathe in, breathe out. High pitched Cantonese. Breathe in, breathe out. Hello? Immigration?
So I've finally decided this is it. I've had enough. I'm going to beat this. I'm going to hold my head high and say "I did it!"
This is day one of being a reformed smoker.
This is day one of a healthier new me.
This is day one of my new life.
Oh dear Lord! What the hell have I done? There appears to be a good indicator that I may go to gaol for murder.
It appears that now I've decided to quit that people have decided to up their stupidity. Yeah, I didn't think it was possible either but apparently it is. Who knew?
Concentration is shot to pieces. My irritability is sky high and my short fuse is now ever shorter. One more person refers to me as cheerful is going to be eating through a straw for the next three months.
The hammers in my brain are banging out a beat like something that even Rebecca Black would turn her nose up at. It's all I can do not to yell and scream. I started to yell before... I never realised my voice could his such a high pitch. I think I may need to check that I still have testicles and haven't grown a vagina over night.
I'm not going cold turkey. I've tried that before. I nearly had to move out. Now, instead I have patches. Little round sticky things that release nicotine into my body. I'm not 100% sure that it's working or if it's just sitting on my shoulder taunting me that I should roll it and smoke it. No, no bad thoughts. Can't smoke the plastic patch.
I was in the bathroom before and saw a guy looking back at me. I started to mouth off asking what he was looking at. Told him a picture will last longer. About 2.5 minutes into my verbal abuse I stopped. I looked at the guy again. Well bugger me if I wasn't yelling at my mirror reflection. Time to clean my glasses.
I'm determined I can do this. I've had enough. I don't like my mouth tasting like an ashtray. The constant burned feeling in my mouth. I want to be able to breathe easier, live to see ... well ... something interesting I'm sure. Until then, I'll just breathe through the pain. Stop smirking at me... I'm in pain here!
So apparently I'm not the bringer of the armageddon. I've not had a smoke and do not have a patch on and the world is still turning on it's axis. It is true that there in the imprint of a teenager's face on a train in Melbourne. In my defense, they shouldn't have called me Sir.
