Day Four

That's that look I was looking for
Sugar sugar give me some more


The hardest part of abstinence is facing forever and ever.  Though can we ever believe that the learned behaviors of addictions ever dissolve from the conscious?  The abuse potential for a recovering addict never unwoven from the bodies fabric.  The same question always remains,  will I ever believe that never means never?

Today on my road to recovery, my will broke down.  I had driven my self into the ground, by resisting my sudden withdrawals.  Chemically I was imbalanced, and while burning for a cure,  my stimulus couldn't divorce the sensation.  I should have know better... but I couldn't bite my nails any long in the angst of anticipation.

My fuses blew shortly after I clocked out of work.  I was in the eye of Chicago at around six thirty, feeling quite dirty, and I wanted a drink, with my friend Alejandro.  We decided to hit up seven eleven buy a six pack, and sip them by the river.  I should have know better, when we got to the checkout line...I couldn't keep my eyes of the giant wall of nicotine, perfectly set in the back drop of the cashier. 

"Ahhhh, stand your ground, Ahhhh, stand your ground, Ahhhh, stand your ground," echoed through my mind.  What would grandma Mary do? It was too much to resist.  Have you ever had the pleasure of dropping a  bowling ball square on your big toe?   

Anyways, I ended up buying a black and mild, bringing my nicotine streak to a bitter end.  Foolishly, I had lost once again, surrendering to the delicious taste of tar.  I smoked the 'black' in shameful resent, feeling like a powerless child. 

After I finished smoking, my head was hinged on the floor.  I made it so far, how could let it go that easily?  I hate feeling trapped in the cross hairs of compulsion, but I guess I have to keep evaluating myself.  Obviously my methods for quitting need to be reformulated, and I got to try something else.

I did some research and I've found some nicotine support groups around Chicago.  I feel like I have to give the group therapy a shot.  What have I got to lose at this point?  Realizing that I might fall again has forced me to find an alternative. 

Mark my words, my relapse is merely a bump in the road, side bender.  I know I'll gain control of the habit.  Discipline, and I am willing to accept that I will trust myself again.  I just have to get up, wipe off the dirt and dust, and continue to take it one day at a time.  Today wasn't my day, but hopefully tomorrow will be.

Day Three

If you swallow your tongue...
Do not hold onto your breath...continuing the charade, "one more day at a time", I thought, as I walked out my front door.  Waiting at the bus stop, my smokers instincts hounded towards a man reaping the sweet joy of a morning cig.  Strobe light, consciously I hesitated to pry the casket, temptation, "should I buy one?"  During sudden withdrawal , prayers pulse for the headache to go away.  I had refused pain medication.  Rising above any valley requires pain, for pain is part of every resolution.

No one said it would be easy, I thought,  while teeter-tottering on the whim of a daydream. I found myself staring silently...more than usual. Sound in my mind keep repeating static and my vision was out of phase.  The tragic dissonance of an addict, with cockroaches in an orchestra pit, chewing on the power of the brain.

When I tell you couldn't think, I mean...my words felt like peanut butter coated on bard wire.  I mean... I was seemingly lost inside my own mind. I mean...I was...I mean...I must have questioned my existence six maybe seven hundred times.  I mean...it was bad, you know.

Frustrated by time, I thought a lot about how Miles Davis quit heroine.  From what I heard he decided to quit for one reason or another, by rehabilitating himself through cold turkey.  So the story goes,  he went to his fathers farm, locked himself in a room, and told his dad to not let him out for anything.  He eventually kicked the cold, but I can't even imagine his pain.  So yeah, he's definitely one of my biggest inspirations.

However, I realized sudden withdrawals aren't shy by any means, making it another day nicotine free.  I owe a lot of it my amazing girlfriend and my best friends, without them I'd have been ashed out.  Spending time amongst loved ones is a smooth remedy for healing, just talking to people in general helped alleviate my temptation to smoke.

While pulling back the skin off my day, I commend myself for making it seventy-two hours nicotine free.    I steadily keep thinking, "one day at a time," just like my friends at gamblers anonymous told me.  Keep on rolling...now.


   

Day Two

Time won't take any prisoners,
But then how can I kill time?
Do I have to reach the other side
Or realize its all in my mind?



Today I was shaking like the hands of two rivals who put down their weapons, forming a peace treaty.  Though in my mind in the trenches of war, fighting the urge of surrendering to craving for nicotine.  I'd read that on the second and third day of quitting were the worst of the bends, due to the physical withdrawals.  Seemingly they come so suddenly.  Just give it some time, I thought, time in the thorns.

The roses in my mind, were deteriorating from my irritability.  I had barely slept the night before because I would randomly wake up feeling tireless.  When I finally had to get up I realized today was Thursday, but I could have easily laid in my bed till Sunday.  Hastily, I rolled out at about 6 a.m, with hopes of hacking out a paper, before class.

This is a picture of my brain

My brain continued to feel like a big bowl of mashed potatoes, and my paper was anything but gravy.  I should've named the paper hemorrhoid because I pushed that bloody mess of a mockery straight out of my ass.  Honestly, I feel sorry for my professor who has to grade it.  I tried to compose something decent, but my thoughts felt as natural as tinfoil in a microwave.  Anyways I got the paper done, and that's all that counts right?

The rest of my day at school consisted of me daydreaming about my girlfriend, while my professors talked about god knows what?  Don't get me wrong I love learning, but today I couldn't inhale the half of their shapeless thoughts.  I would have rather been picking up trash on the side of a highway. After my classes ended, I hadn't the slightest clue of what I was supposed to ingest.

Then it was time for me to go to work; one of means of employment, consists of teaching  kindergartners and first graders how to play chess.  I'm usually a really chill teacher, holding my composure, yet keeping the class in line.  Though today I was as in tune as a dusty upright that had been sitting in a garage for twenty some years.

My thoughts were more delayed than the sound in old Japanese movies.  Obviously, I couldn't express to my class how I was feeling, but somehow they instinctively knew.  They went bananas, and I couldn't peel my mind fast enough.  The class is only an hour, but it felt like two weeks.  It felt like a tornado had just touched down in my mind. 

The rest of my day has consisted of me acting like I was trying to study.  It's a bizarre feeling when you can watch your fingers twitch, and feel your mind pulsating like a sub-woofer.  I lost my mind concentrating on cigarettes, and everything else was merely a delusion.

Reaching end of the day, I commend myself for making it forty eight hours.  "One day at a time," is what my friends at gamblers anonymous told me.  I'm going to swallow my tongue, and call my girlfriend.  Much love.     

Day One

Blame it on the medication
But you can not blame it on me
Inside of your eyes there's a storm
But you can not blame it on me


When I woke up this morning, I couldn't get my mind off that devil's reefer, and drinking my morning coffee didn't help either.  I felt heavily compelled, heavier than the stone in my chest.  Then I thought about my exam in three hours, and all was but a mess.

Only twelve hours had passed since my last smoke, and my head already felt as if it was about out to split.  It's sounds pathetic, but I'm full fledged smoker, and threads of doubt were creeping.  My Grannies grave holds my word, but I wasn't sure if I was going to make it, as the demons started taunting my veins, I realized my first battle had begun.

It's still a mystery how I managed to push myself through the day?   I couldn't think straight, nor could I communicate.  All my thoughts were cascaded with a blurry tinge of eeriness.  Smoking was a habitual part of my daily routine, and without nicotine I felt lost.

I would usually have a cigarette after I ate, between my classes, waiting for a bus, during my work breaks, and generally anytime I felt bored, which is mostly whenever I would breathe.  I felt like smoking a cigarette broke up my monotonous daily routine, but now all I could do was bite my lip.

Luckily I had the support of my girlfriend, with whom I spoke with on the phone, at around noon.  "How are you feeling baby," she asked me. "I almost beat the shit out a cop, and right now I'm contemplating whether to push over the library book shelves, like dominoes, but other than that I'm feeling fantastic," I replied.

I was serious, but we both laughed.  "Baby no one is stronger than you.  I believe in you, and I know you can do it," she said.  "You don't know how mush that means to me sugar, thanks.  I love you too," I replied.  Our conversation made me feel better, and we chatted for a few more minutes.  Then I had to peace out, and go to take my exam.

On the way to my classroom, my headaches began following a blurred line of thought.  I tried to remain composed, but my focus kept scatting on its own offbeat time.  Looking for a way through, without using that way out way out, I resiliently reached the lecture hall.

 After I took my chair in the ominously grey room,  I told my compadre about my pledge. "That sucks to be you man.  You sure you don't want to have just one," he mumbled out.  "Yeah I'm positive.  It's only my first day I can't be that much of a chump," I replied.  "You picked a hell of a day quit, more power to ya," he added.

 Then the exam came flying in on me, and I felt like I was looking straight up at b52 plane…voila…bombs away.  All I could think about was getting out of that stuffy room, and chain smoking cigarettes until my chest hurt.  I thought about just rolling up the exam and smoking that.  Though, I did manage to chicken scratch my way through it, and quickly retreated to fresh air.

When I reached the exit doors I ran into the same classmate that I talked to when I arrived. "I hate to be your devils peak, but after that nightmare, I know you want one of these," he said, while holding up a cigarette.  In  my mind I thought about shattering his jaw, but instead I simply replied, "Thanks asshole, but I'm good on that."  Just got to let it pass, I thought.

The last six hours of my day consisted of me staring at a computer screen, with my thumb up my ass.  I was supposed to write two papers, and for two consecutive hours I couldn't even jot down one sentence.  My mind was constipated, and my creative juices were damned off by lack of nicotine.  I thought about screaming, just to make sure I wasn't having a nightmare.

 I'd work on one paper for about a half an hour, and then I'd quit on it because I couldn't find a place to start.  Then I'd switch to the other paper, repeating this cycle for about four hours.  Finally I was inspired to write down a few meaningless thoughts.   Though overall most of my time spent writing, consisted of scorching my retina, from the iridescent computer screen. 

Now at the end of the day, I commend myself for making it twenty-four hours.  "One day at a time," is what my friends at gamblers anonymous told me.  I'm going to have a glass of orange juice now, and call my girlfriend.  Much love.

On the Eve of my Assent

Ever since I can remember cigarette smoke, and ashtrays have surrounded me.  Everyone in my family smoked; my mom, my grandma, my aunts and my dad even smoked black and milds.  

Plus, not only did they smoke, they'd constantly be ripping cigarettes inside our house, leaving a tinge of yellow tar on the walls.  To me smoking seemed completely normal and though I knew it wasn’t natural, I looked up to my family, so naturally I picked up the stunt.

Literally breaking the habit, as I throw 
my remaining cigarettes in the toilet

When I was twelve, I remember sneaking into my mom's purse, and snatching cigarettes from her.  Then I’d haul ass to the woods near my house, burning them down, while foolishly thinking I was smooth.  

When I was about fourteen my habit started picking up steam when I talked my brother into giving me his ID.  I had to walk to the liquor store, but best believe when I would walk out I'd have smokes...been addicted ever since.

Now at twenty-six, I can’t believe I’ve been smoking for over fourteen years.  Currently, I smoke two to three packs of Newport 100’s a week, and according to my mathematical calculations, by quitting I'll be able to save about $1,300/yr.  

 Shameful side effect to have your chest burn, while walking up three flights of stairs.  

Starting tomorrow I’ll be clearing the smoke, by going cold turkey.  My intention for this blog is to display my insanity...