Me too. I wrote it. I deleted. I wrote it again. I thought about my co-workers, my family, my friends and how it would feel for them to see it. I realized that I felt ashamed and embarrassed. As soon as I identified it was those feelings that were holding me back I hit enter. Hello FaceBook friends, me too.
I have been completely clean from any kind of medication for approximately two months and here’s how things are.
I cannot. Cannot. Cannot. Cannot. But I want to. I think. I have so many opinions in my brain about this. I did not know I was THIS addicted to tobacco.
I chew tobacco. I found a piece of my gum, my fucking gum from my fucking mouth, in my dip Monday. Anxiety and webmd tells me my gums show that I’m 90% cancerous. I stop cold turkey……for 16hrs.
Google tells me only 80% of people survive one year of mouth cancer no matter what stage. Only 45% survive five years. I’m done. I stare at mouth cancer pictures for three hours. This shit right here. Omg.
So I switch to nicotine gum. One pack of 4mg x 20 pieces starting Tuesday, one more pack by Saturday. Fuckkkkkk.
So Tuesday after. One week in. I have my last piece in the pack. One piece. I’m doing two at each interval normally. One piece left at 3pm. At 5pm my S.O. and I pick out wedding invitations.
Ask me how irritated I was. Ask me.
I was ready to go to war. I could not use nice words. Even though I was onboard with what he wanted to use. I was not able to be nice. My brain wouldn’t let me. I was too concerned with when the next piece of nicotine would be. Feed me more pieces please. So irritated.
We finish, he goes to walgreens to pick up prescriptions and I ask him to get nicorette gum since I ran out at 3pm with half dose. He comes home at 630pm empty nicotine handed. I literally cry.
I sob and I sob and I sob. I start shaking. I’m so hungry and I’ve already eaten so much. I can’t use words to describe why I’m so upset. Word are so hard to use suddenly. Im still sobbing as I grab shit to run out to the store…..sans bra sans shoes. Im trying to tell him how much I NEED it without sounding like an addict. Between sobs and shaking of course.
He drives me to the store. I sit in the car and I google withdrawal symptoms. Obvi. Webmd. My bff. I’m clearly addicted, and I’m full of remorse for becoming the person I am. He gets into the car and I shove gum into my mouth as fast as I can. I swear to god I became a completely different human. Everything was status quo.
I hate myself.
He says he’s confused. I tell him my tobacco schedule and all of my hiding places. I told him I forgot a hiding place once and how I spent two hours looking for it. I’m so ashamed. I did not think this was the person that I was. He had no idea how bad it was. No no no. He had an idea…but it was not this destructive in his mind.
I’m nine days tobacco free. I’m doing alright. I crave it sometime, but when I do crave it I remember that a piece of my gum came out. I remember the statistics too.
I’ve tried “quitting” three times in the last two years for him and for…”me”. The fourth time is all me 100%….plus five million more. It’s true. You have to be ready to give it up.
You want to do it for the people who love you. You want it to be for them. That’s not how it happens though. You do it for you. I don’t think it’s selfish, I think it’s a battle you win against your inner demons. The inner demons ask, ” Why the fuck do you care??? You’re not hurting others! You’re feeling better! Just one more time?”
Fuckkk. I’ve been dancing with the devil.
I want to see my future. I want to do this for me. I want to make my S.O. proud. Day nine. I’m killing it.
Do y’all ever do the dog pay it forward poop? Like you can’t find your dogs poop in the dog park so you pick up someone else’s dogs poop? And it feels gross because it’s someone else’s dog’s poop but you know someone will pick up your dog’s poop when they can’t find theirs…..asking for a friend.
Did you know I procrastinate and I’m lazy and I write because I’m usually working at school and want to be lazy and procrastinate? Summer obviously did a number on my posting rate. I’m back in full force. (Maybe).
I lost three fosters in two weeks. Three neonates. I held them in my arms as they gasped at me for air. I held them to my chest to feel my heart beat while I drove to the vet. I held them and hoped the rise and fall of my chest would encourage theirs to do the same. It’s hard to lose them.
Give your brain a kiss. This is what my future mother in law says to me when I tell her I found a new psychiatrist. Someone who listens to me when I tell them the mood stabilizers they put me on are making me fucking insane. Someone who wants to wean me off and start at square one with me.