Update on Smoking, as promised

To give up, or not to give up… that is the question: 

They say it’s the first 5 days that are the worst, right? Right? Jesus- I hope so, because that would mean I’m a fourth way there.  It’s so strange going through this, this ‘trying to quit’ thing. I mean, I’ve done it once before.  But it was different back then.

In the Beginning

Although I stopped smoking when I found out I was pregnant, I’d smoked for three years already but I can’t remember it being an issue at all. The day I found out about the pregnancy, I had put one smoke (to calm my nerves) in my mouth and just as I was lighting it my mom took it for herself, along with the rest of my box and my cute lighter.  She didn’t say a word but pointedly glanced at my belly.  I got the picture.  I can’t even remember craving cigarettes after that moment.  All through my pregnancy and after when Kiera was with me, I didn’t battle at all.

On the day of her death, Jacques gave me a smoke because he could see I didn’t exactly know what to do with myself.  I was determined to smoke, despite all the ‘Don’t, Sheen!’s my mom and every other family member had given me.  It gave me a head rush, yes, and dizziness to contend with, but at least it felt like I was in control of something.  Even if it was just a silly little nicotine stick.

Training myself to smoke again

A few days later, the head rushes stopped and so did the dizziness.  I started to enjoy smoking again, even though I still coughed every now and again.  It’s been five years since then, and I’ve been a 20 a day smoker the whole time.  It wasn’t too bad, considering some people go through many more cigarettes than I do, but up until now, I haven’t been able to go without smoking for two hours!  In being very honest with myself, though, I haven’t ever really even tried.

So, what is my motivation for giving up? 

1. For starters, it costs a fuck load!  Do you non smokers know that a box of smokes is on average R23?  What’s that in Oz dolla? Like, 3.20$ or something.
2. Also, my holy heart has started palpitations again and if I am not even supposed to do scuba diving because of the oxygen in the tanks, how would the Heart Quack feel about my smoke inhalation? 
3. My room constantly smells like Johnny the Human Torch has just taken off through the window.
4. I feel self conscious being a smoker – it’s almost as bad as being an alcoholic to some people. That sounds so lame, and maybe it is, but it bugs me.
5. But, more than anything, I feel that I’m ready to let go of the vice that I’ve clung to since Kiera died. I don’t need to feel in control of smoking anymore, because I’ve taught myself how to be in control of something so much more, my life.

The Tactical Plan:

• First off, get my car washed; buy a refill air refresher thingy.  Note to self: Note that Pine flavor like the last one– BARF! DONE!
• Change linen and curtains in bedroom; get rid of all evidence of smoking. 
• Empty packets in bin, any ashtrays etc. DONE!
• Wash all jackets again- make sure the smell of smoke is away! 
• Deep cleanse face, neck, upper arms – I believe that the smoke penetrates these parts of the body most.  Repeat.  Then repeat again.  Also, wash hair.  And clip nails, we’re starting over here! DONE!
• Avoid smokers for the first week at all costs! Even if I must block my ears and eyes, I shall not be within smelling distance of a smoker.  No, siree. FAIL!  I saw my family yesterday, they all smoke It was tough, but I cracked it and managed to go non nicotine commando all day. *pats self on back*

Explanation of the Tactical Plan:

The biggest thing about smokers is that they do it in Groups- they’re an association, a team, and a defense force against all non smokers.  I can tell you something for nothing; smokers put the ANC to shame!  Just watch what happens if you tell a group of local smokers their favorite restaurant has cancelled their smoking policy.  They stick together and put up such a performance, they almost always get what they ‘have a right to’.  I’ve seen it in action; it’s dangerous and very powerful.  Sticking away from smokers will prevent a mental reminder to my brain that I should be smoking too. 

I’m a big believer of smokers reminding their brains to smoke.  So essentially, what I’m planning above is to get rid of all evidence that I was a smoker.  If my brain isn’t reminded about the smell, it can’t go: ‘hey, do ya smell that? It’s the smell of smoke in your hair, why don’t we go make it even more smoky smelling?’ or “See that person smoking over there? You could do that too, right now, if you wanted to, you know…” A smoker’s brain grabs constant reminders, willing you to go smoke.  Just like a Heroin addiction, this is a tough cookie to crack.

But fuck it- I’m bigger than a stupid little addiction.  If I could survive burying a daughter, I can survive and get through anything. Watch me as I kick this horrible habit.

 A small, tiny, miniscule little note of thanks to everyone for your encouragement and messages of laughter, mockery and suggestions.  You bitches are aiding me in saving my lungs

Hayzooz Hernandez, I’ve decided to stop smoking!

It is one day away from payday which means that any spare cash I might have had has been spent, and after the two single cigarettes in my box, I won’t have the ability to replace this box with a new one for 36 hours. The decision hits me to stop smoking.

I’ve always battled to not smoke because they were always available. But now at work the smokers are the minority.  We are banished to an outside area where filthy cigarette stubs are the only decoration on tar and absolutely no cover from the ear screaching wind or shelter from the rain.  In my section of the floor, I have my own office, so I won’t be tempted by others.  At home, Cath smokes outside anyway, so it won’t affect me and I’ll get rid of all ashtrays and disinfect my room with her miracle Dettol solution.  I have 36 hours head start where I actually can’t smoke, and I’m so excited!

Thursday 7 / 8 / 2008

18.00pm – I say to my Flat mate Cath, “Dude – how would you handle quitting smoking right now?” “Not well at all, why?” with a somewhat cautious tone in her voice. “Well, I think I might try stopping-” I look at her for her reaction, as her facial expressions only ever tell me what’s going on internally, and she has a glint of fear in her eye. “Um, c-c-could you possibly move in with sister Cam then?” is what she came up with.

Ah, fuck! I think- is it really going to be all that bad?

20.00pm – three hours since last Nicotine Stick (hereafter referred to as NS) Twittering like mad, facebooking and chatting to mates has kept me sane when I notice my foot tapping a little too vigorously than usual. I am more than ready to enjoy my second to last smoke, ever.

23.00pm – have watched movie ‘Riding in cars with boys’ to distract me. Lovely movie, made me cry. But that could also be because I know I only have one NS left. Thoughts of desperation have kicked in:

• What will I do with my hands in the car on the way to and from Work? It’s my best time to smoke! 
• When I get annoyed, how will I calm myself down? Nothing beats a puff session when you’re annoyed. 
• Okay, like, I know my parents read this blog, but: (whispers) what can replace a post coital fag?! 
• I’m already packing on a pound or few, I don’t want to start eating everything and everyone in sight just to distract my lungs! 
• Will I cope with dealing with other people smoking?
• What if I have to surround myself with non smokers?
• Non smokers are mostly nerdy though. 
• Oh Shit! What if I have to fucking stop swearing? I can’t do this. I’m too cool to be a nerd!

23.01pm – I puff on my last drag. Lovingly cradling it between my lips, inhaling the tobaccowy goodness. Knowing it will be our one last love affair. As it ends, my lungs give out a sigh and we know that the cigarettes will be sorely missed.

* * * * *  

Friday 08 / 08 / 2008

It is now 09.49am and I have not had a smoke in just over ten hours, four of them I’ve been conscious enough to feel I haven’t had a smoke. I’m feeling…okayish. My tongue seems rather thick for some reason, if I were to be frank. My lungs are rather toight and breathing is sort of rapid every now and again. I find myself clenching my jaw quite a lot too, while my hands are very energetic and my foot is tap-tap-tapping away under my desk. I can feel I need a smoke, but I’m not ready to pickle my eyeballs or anything.

Lets see how this goes. Wish me luck!  I’ve decided to keep a journal on this.

Morning After Pill and Me

Oh my word! I did it again. I managed to humiliate myself, all for someone else!

“Sheen I need a favour” says Friendwhogotlucky.

“god – I refuse to go buy you condoms again, the Clicks staff always look at me funny” says I.

“Am not God, damnit – but I promise I will make it up to you if you go fetch the morning after for me. Please? I can’t get out of the office and you don’t want another godchild on your hands, do you?”

*Sigh* I’m such a sucker for punishment.

So I pick up the phone and call the Chemist. “hello, um – this is….Sarah speaking. I wonder if it is possible you could get a -big breathe and rush through the words: morningafterpill ready for me to collect, in a wrapped up package so I dont have to look at it?”

To which, the Chemist replied:

“Em. No. You must fill out a form wiz your I.D. noomber, residential address and sign a foorm seeying you doon’t want a bay-bee ”

Ah, fuck.

Rush to the chemist, fill in fake details, pray to allah no one finds out, touch wood I don’t jinx myself in any way (Lord knows, I’ve been through enough this year)

Beetroot Red, I hand over the money and run to the car. Only to start up the engine and realize I’ve left the blasted package behind.

“Mees Sarah, you left your Morrrning Affter Peel behind! Here eet ees”
Silently, I snatch it up, turn my back, proverbial tail between my legs and die inside, quietly. As I walk out the door, I over hear a Granny asking her lovely grandson;

“Deary, whatever is a Morning After Pill for? After what, exactly?”
Kill me now.

A post for Sheena, and Sheena alone

She knew him not

Never heard his voice

She said it was real

It wasn’t her choice

Lies are all round

Confusion abounds

Doubt in her mind

Why was she so blind

She wishes to forget

Of his sorry tale

The shouldn’t ever have met

Stupid bloody male

Searches that lead (weird) people to this site

1.    Slipper hurt my foot.  (Well Shame, you poor person you.  Please explain to me how Mr. Google can assist you with this current problem?)

2.    How to get drunk girls home with me.  (Well, Sparky, this is how:  make sure your nails are clean, because no woman in her right mind will let you touch her anywhere with dirty nails.  Once that’s sorted, ensure your person looks presentable and that you are not a sex freak look-a-like.  Girls don’t really like that much.  How you actually get the drunk girl to your actual house I don’t actually know.  Maybe you could ask Jeffery Dahlmer, you sick Fuck!)

3.    Woman in KZN looking for audult fun.  (The place to go:  Teasers.  You can’t touch them much, but maybe if you sit on your hand long enough and call it Foxy, you might find some loving with a difference once you get back home.  Jerk off.  And its adult.  ADULT.)

4.    Famdamily.  (I have one of those too!  Except, mine is slightly bigger than yours and my dad can kick your dads ass.)

5.    Portable Pussy.  (It was a joke people, sheesh!  On a serious note, I thought only my internet mate and I were this insane, you don’t actually believe those things are real, do you?)

6.    Doing dead people hair for funerals.  (Wow, that must be a totally awesome job.  Not.)

7.    Things to do for boyfriends and girlfriends.  (Well now, one or two things you could try:  1.  kamasutra 2.  handcuffs.)

8.    Something dying inside of me.  (Dear god, did you eat a frog?  I hear those things can’t live long inside you. Get medical assistance, guy, like now!)

9.    Is my son doing crack?  (Jeez, lady, I dunno!  You should get one of those drug checker thingies.  That might help.)

10.   Going home to Jesus.  (Well, lets hope he cooked me an apple pie, yo.  He’s good at that.  I’m so glad I married Jesus. Sigh)

11.    I am busy spring cleaning (well good for you! You missed a spot, right there behind your anal tendancies)

12.   Fuck off stupid bitch (well now! didn’t your mother ever wash your mouth out with soap when you were so rude?)

13.   "i’m worth more than that" (you keep telling yourself that, sunshine)

14.   Rhyme sheens (leans? cleans? preens? its not that hard really)

15.   They make you lay on a cold hospital bed (You could always ask them to warm up the hospital sheets?)

16.   I am a boy and i was a girl (wow.  Now there’s some ingredients for confusion. Sorry for you buddy)

17.   Are you sarcastic? (Who, me?  Never. Evar. Like, never, ever, ever. Pssh.) 

18.   Wossa virgin?  (Someone who doesn’t like bumping uglies)

Pet hates.

1. People calling me Ma’am when they are clearly a few years my senior. It makes me feel uncomfortable.
2. Spit. I hate it. In a mouth or out. It is best ignored.
3. Why does tea go so cold so quickly? Coffee doesn’t. Its only tea. Annoying.
4. Taxi drivers. No matter how new or old their taxi is, they were put on earth to be bad drivers.
5. Hooting to greet. Didn’t people realize that when it gives you the multiple question and answers in the learner driver test, it was a trick question? Blowing your horn is not meant for greeting. Emergencies only, people!
6. Egg shells in my scrambled eggs from mugg n bean. Seriously, this is just not on.
7. Every single clothing company that sells underwear. They need to realise that just because my boobs are gigantic, it doesn’t give them the right to make the bra straps big enough to fit around a tree trunk. Think about it, manufacturers!
8. Fat free cream. That is a fucking impossibility. Cream is a form of fat! Do people really fall for that?
9. The smell of blown out candles. It smells terrible.
10. Nail polish that peels off quickly. What a waste of time, effort and money. It takes ages to apply it, forever for it to dry, then you get up and a day later half of it flakes off.

Wednesday shmednesday. I’m grumpy.