This is coming from someone who is in complete denial of a relapse she is going through. For 24 hours, she did not smoke [clean sheet] and then the sheet got dirtier.
Now, why did this happen? She wonders! She was talking :gibberish: with her colleagues and before she knew it she reached out for a cigarette and walked out to the smoking corner. She toyed with that stick for a wee while – it was as if she was having second thoughts and a momentary “to smoke or not to smoke” pause. There was no one, just the cigarette and her.
She reminded herself that she had quit smoking to become healthier. She then asked herself the “need” to smoke right there and then. There was no “need” – she wasn’t stressed nor was she angry. ‘There wasn’t having-a-bad-day syndrome. A flash and there the cigarette was lit and she was inhaling the burned nicotine infested tobacco holding white cylindrical thing with a spongy yellowish butt.
The only NEW excuse she came down to [after she lit that first cigarette] – än ídlé mínd ís the SMÖKËR’s wórkshóp… and thus begins a new era of experiment. She has promised not to keep herself idle. Hence she might blog more if not watch movies. She’s since [since the first cigarette, today] watched – Game Change, A Mighty Heart and is now enjoying The Hunger Games while working, mind you.
NB. This post is being written in the Third Person because s1ngal is ashamed of the relapse. She will continue to write this way until the smoking and the relapse are a thing of the past. She wants you all to kindly bear with her and she wants you all to trust her when she says “She’s trying.” Like the_Lunatic commented, “It’s easy until it’s not”, s1ngal is finding it not EASY at this moment.
Someone mailed it in a few days back to s1ngal about the smoking relapse episode. That someone was SO wrong. Well, it wasn’t a relapse. s1ngal was only trying to smoke a little without turning that episode into a saga of relapse. Does that make any sense? Maybe, not.
So here’s me writing about my life ~ yeah yeah a single life. I got into smoking a little bit since I first lit “that” first cigarette when I got stressed. In fact, it wasn’t stress that brought me down to light “that” first cigarette – it was *rage*, a boiling RAGE.
There’s this colleague – I don’t want to name names or anything like that – who loves [I believe] to get on my nerves. She does it routinely on Wednesdays and it was one of these Wednesdays when *fury* of the worst order took me over and I was blinded by it. Seriously, I couldn’t calm myself down – it was a murderous rage – R.A.G.E. Yes, that’s why I smoked on that Wednesday because I got into that anger-loop.
IMAGE SOURCE: s1ngal
Anger-loop defined: It’s like something makes you angry and then you turn away from it. Then you sit and think about it, which apparently makes you angrier. Then you stand and try to talk yourself out [of this anger situation] and you get the angriest. This is when you need to get out and chop some wood or mope. But because I was at work, I couldn’t chop wood [would’t have done this even if I was home] or mope. Yes, moping is my greatest stress-reliever.
Today, I am on Monday and haven’t smoked YET. Come Wednesday, if I’m saying the same thing i.e. in the line of “haven’t smoked”, I’d feel quite accomplished [after which I’m going to work on getting “Freshly Pressed”].
The world is an unfair place when you want it to play fair. I responded by lighting a cigarette. I know it’s lame but that’s what I did. Having had that smoking addiction for slightly less than a decade and being clean for 2 years, this is how and when I took the first step at defeat. Was it worth it?
I looked up at the grey skies above, prayed in silence as I smoked. I stubbed my third cigarette halfway because I couldn’t take it any longer. Smoking doesn’t help, never did. I knew [still do] it better. The sky’s still grey, my prayers are still falling into deaf ears. Maybe I need to scream it out loud.
I went out, cleared the weed gathered around my little space – in the hope of clearing what’s in my head, too, I guess. I stood under a cold shower to freeze the frustration. The spine-chilling water didn’t help, either. There I was trembling, gasping for warmth and “my place” is tad cleaner.
I am where I wanted to be. I am where I once called it heaven. Then why is it that I feel like hell here in Heaven?
I’m not asking the world to be fair… All I’m asking is “Where did it all go wrong?”