Coffee and a Smoke

I woke up this morning with the automatic thought "coffee and cigarette". This thought always excited me. Sadly to say, it was what made me get out of bed every morning for years. It's what has made me not sleep passed noon. You can even go so far as to say that it has made me a morning person. (Gasp!) It was my breakfast of champions.

So I got out of bed and went to the coffee maker and stopped for a moment. It hit me that there wouldn't be a smoke. I panicked for a moment, not knowing what I was going to do. What was I supposed to do while I drank my coffee? For that moment, I had no idea. I went ahead and started the coffee. I guess I figured out what I was going to do. I was going to write this post. So here I am.

It really is a scary thing that I can't think of something to do when I am not smoking. I try to take a step back and try to think about what "normal" people do with their time. I even try to think way back to the time when I did not smoke 15 years ago. What did I do then? I remember. I do the same things that "normal" people do. The problem is that there has always been a cigarette attached to it. Whether it was before, during, or after; there was always a smoke to look forward to.

I've got to think of another game plan here. I need something new to look forward to.

I have to take the advice that I had gotten from someone yesterday. I just have to take each day minute by minute. Ride each craving until it is gone. They gave me the hope that it is only temporary. That the craving will pass. Minute by minute.

Minute by minute.

On to the next one.


Oh, and one more thing. If any of you guys have any suggestions for me, feel free to tell me! I can use all the help and support I can get.

My Friend, Cigarette, Has Died.

Well, needless to say, quitting smoking is hard. That is a well known fact, alright, but when you are actually going through it, you can feel like you are the only one in the world feeling it. It sucks. Especially when you are being forced to quit. Yeah, that's me. My name is Misery. Come join me, won't you? I need serious help.

I've been smoking for 15 years now. 15. I can hardly believe it. Through thick and thin, sickness and in health, richer or poorer, I have managed to keep my addiction at bay. Cigarettes have been there for me, even when I felt all alone in the world without a friend in sight. It gave me comfort to smoke. It made me relaxed. It gave me something to do. I was part of my daily routines. My daily life. Everything I did had a cigarette attached to it.

There have been a few times when I attempted to kick the habit. There have even been times when I spent a week at the hospital without one--a perfect time to quit. The second I left, though, I would light one up as if that week never happened. Stupid me. Stupid, stupid me.

This time, though, it's the real deal. I am in a place and situation in my life where quitting is a necessity. I don't have a job. I don't have money. My boyfriend hates that I smoke anyway and says this is the perfect time. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know he is right. It is a waste of money and smoking is making my health worse. Sure, it sounds good on paper but in reality, I hate it. Sometimes, I just don't think I can do it. I need serious help.

My addiction is mental as well as physical. When I feel it physically, my body actually gets scared. It tenses up. I feel like I have no oxygen coming in, ironic as that may sound. My body feels like it is missing something essential. If only it knew. My poor body has lived with nicotine for so long that it doesn't know what to do without it.

This makes me cry. Just the thought of my body's reaction worries me to death. Makes me wonder why the hell I did this to myself in the first place. Stupid, stupid me.

I am not sure what is worse--the physical addiction or the mental one. Like I said: smoking is part of my daily routines. I have had one with my morning coffee for years. I smoke one after my shower while my hair dries  I smoke while driving. I smoke while taking breaks from whatever I am doing at the time. I can't even go through a full movie without stopping to smoke one. Now that I don't have any, that part of my life is ripped away. I am constantly thinking before I do something "I'll go smoke a... Oh yeah. Shit. Dammit! DAMMIT!"

This is once again where the crying starts. But instead of just crying, it becomes somewhat of a yelling and screaming episode. The mental addiction thus combines with the physical, and we have ourselves a psycho.

I feel like I am jumping out of a plane without a parachute. I feel like I am locked in a tiny room tied up in a straight jacket. I feel like I am buried alive.

I hear this is supposed to get easier. Right now, though, it seems as though my misery will never end.