Monday, January 19, 2009

I've only known careless love

Monday, January 19, 2009
I'm struggling here. The first week was a fucking doddle. Really. Not a problem. And as you read this, I am, at the B.F.M., half an hour past the two week mark. And I reckon I could have just the one. Yup. Just the one little one. I've earned it. All this commuting by bike, all this running, all this fucking not smoking. Surely I've earned myself just one little cigarette?

But I know, though I'm trying so hard to self-deny, that there is no such bleeding thing. Isn't it supposed to get easier the longer you go?

Again with the rhetorical: has my day been so rough? It may not require it, but I dole it out nonetheless. Yes. Yes, it has. Tesco at eight-thirty, children in tow, then almost instantly to work a spin class where I was certainly not feeling it, strong as I was, and where my relating of a dream of Paula Radcliffe fell as flat as any tale I've ever told. Despite turning away a tide of wannabe participants, despite some fulsome post-class praise, it all just felt a little bit shit. Then Yoga. Snore. Then home and instant employment in the tipless taxi trade, firstly for the Mother in Common Birthday Law and then for the chosen one, her chosen son.

And now, finally, dinner is done and all are gone. Bridge Crew sequestered. Clothes folded, sandwiches made. And all I want is to smoke. Just the one. Oh, just the one. Right now, right this second as I type, I can whiff the sickly sweet smell of Common Law's apparently guiltless, gorgeous habit, wafting. I never noticed, before I stopped, before I started, that the smell drifts, like the hideous chatter of Terry Christian on Celebrity Big Brother, even through a sealed door.

So yes, I feel my day has been rough, though not much rougher than most days. And yes, I believe that I deserve a fucking break. But fortunately, unfortunately, I also believe that the best break I can have is the one which involves me not reaching for that delightfully tubular top shelf, not going outside and feeding my dragon, not hating the taste, hating the failure, hating myself.

Fuck you, dragon cunt, if the waiter can do it, then so can I.

I'm keeping moving on.

16 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

francis mahon said...

It's always hard to know what to say to people who are going through the early stages of giving up smoking. Even just saying 'well done' on making it this far comes across as being condescending...

So how about, "Keep fighting that dragon"?

Sarah Gostrangely said...

you go holemaster...slay that dragon...(insert Slayer-esque hand symbol here).

You're doing good.

gimme a minute said...

Francis:
Thanks.

I've done it before, is the annoying thing. It's all so irritatingly predictable.

Sarah Gostrangely:
I think I need some kind of replacement addiction. The exercise isn't working quite as well this time, what with it being mostly a job and all.

Perhaps something injecty.

fatmammycat said...

Kick its fucking head in. The paramour hopped off the wagon this weekend and came home smiling and mildly tipsy on Saturday evening. I swear to you, I had such a flash of 'Say, those bottles of wine look so god dmaned tempting and he seems so laid back and jolly and...'
But I didn't get the corkscrew. I know it's not really the same, but yeah, it is.

Annie said...

I'm also two weeks off them now. Gimme, we are quitter-twins. Just wait ten minutes every time you feel an urge and it will have passed. What's the other option? Be smokers for the rest of our lives? No.

Conan Drumm said...

What, you're putting yourself though smokeless Hell and the Common Law is allowing Satanic waftings under the door?

It's time for some righteous indignation!!

Terence McDanger said...

I gave up 11 years ago or so. Being a psychology student helped, we were studying addictions.

Lecturer told me of a trap that quitters fall into when offered a cigarette. They'd say: "No, I'm trying to quit," instead of "No. I don't smoke."

Slight difference I know but it worked for me.

You're physiologically over the worst now too I think, most of the challenge is mental. It'd be an awful shame to fold now. Like Annie says, cravings last for about 10 minutes, probably less in fact, and I personally refused to suffer the shame of having to say I couldn't sit on my hands a few minutes a couple of times a day and beat something so short-lived and insignificant in the grander scheme of things...

Common Law said...

Conan - *hangs head in shame and sneaks off for fag*

gimme a minute said...

Fatmammycat:
Sure it is. I'm going to give that a go in February. It's a rolling wave of self-denial. By June I'll have even cast aside app store comfort shopping.

Annie:
Well, yes, that is the other option but not one I feel willing to embrace.

So go you, and by extension, go me.

Conan:
Thoreau fucked it up. Long before now I've been living not a life of quiet desperation but one of righteous indignation.

Terence McDanger:
Yeah, that's like the 'giving up' bit. I'm not 'giving up' shit. I've stopped.

Common Law:
Mmmmm, shame.

Conan Drumm said...

Thoreau, he was the Marvel hero with the hammer, right?

Red Leeroy said...

is your work/home/inlaw life not a whole lot easier when you are dragon free?

grimsaburger said...

I found that moral superiority carried me through the tough spots. Spouse was more likely to let himself have just one every now and then, and will probably still have just one or two every now and then for some time to come, but I took some delight in allowing myself this one bit of zealotry, shaming him in his weakness. I am an intolerable wife sometimes. Most of the time?
But still, it's gratifying that instead of trying to figure out when I had the last cigarette, and the one before that, I have a solid date: June 30, 2006. No wishy-washiness about it, no fear that I'll let one turn into ten or twenty.

Worse comes to worse, you go sit by Common Law's door and breathe deeply until it grosses you out.

gimme a minute said...

Conan:
That's the guy. Hauls a Coke machine around with him.

Red Leeroy:
It is, Red, it is. It was just the ten minutes I spent writing the post that kicked like a mule.

And this minute right here, for some reason. And now I'm fine again.

Grimsaburger:
Moral superiority had me flying through first time around. It's different this time, mostly due to the idiocy of my going back on them after seven years making it difficult to for me to feel morally superior to anyone.

Medbh said...

I dread going through withdrawl again.

Stay strong Gimme!

Anonymous said...

Go on. Get cancer. Kill yourself. Why should I care.

gimme a minute said...

Medbh:
Oh, you'll be fine. You're not nearly as bloodimindedly self-destructive as me.

Anonymous:
I don't know.

Because you use your visits to my bleugh as an opportunity to remind yourself of the correct use of question marks, perhaps?

 
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