Two thousand, one hundred and fifty-six
Dec. 4th, 2005 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevAfter nearly ninety days without a cigarette, why am I still crazy? Crazier, even?
This is the part that's supposed to happen a small number of days after quitting. The obsessive cleaning. My chest hurts. I want to crawl under the bed and not come out. I fidget, all the time. Rage is just around the corner; I can see it if I just sit still for a moment (which, granted, is very difficult right now). Tears sneak up behind me and all of a sudden it's hard to concentrate on anything other than not crying. I want to hit something, but I don't really know what. Physical exertion exhausts me in a matter of minutes, which sends my mood straight into "bleak," but I can't sit still. Everything tastes funny because everything smells funny.
After nearly three months this stuff is supposed to be getting better, not worse.
Livejournal has become a little dangerous, because people keep talking about their "filters". And I remember what a joy it was, smoking unfiltered cloves in new york city, over ten years ago, not too long after I started smoking. Of course, everything else has become a little dangerous, too, because my subconscious can turn just about *anything* into something about my own pathetic struggle. It's no wonder I'm feeling the urge to take anything, everything personally.
My hand still hurts from pounding it on the floor last time I felt like the crazy was getting worse. I'm not ready to do that again.
This is so fucking stupid.
This is the part that's supposed to happen a small number of days after quitting. The obsessive cleaning. My chest hurts. I want to crawl under the bed and not come out. I fidget, all the time. Rage is just around the corner; I can see it if I just sit still for a moment (which, granted, is very difficult right now). Tears sneak up behind me and all of a sudden it's hard to concentrate on anything other than not crying. I want to hit something, but I don't really know what. Physical exertion exhausts me in a matter of minutes, which sends my mood straight into "bleak," but I can't sit still. Everything tastes funny because everything smells funny.After nearly three months this stuff is supposed to be getting better, not worse.
Livejournal has become a little dangerous, because people keep talking about their "filters". And I remember what a joy it was, smoking unfiltered cloves in new york city, over ten years ago, not too long after I started smoking. Of course, everything else has become a little dangerous, too, because my subconscious can turn just about *anything* into something about my own pathetic struggle. It's no wonder I'm feeling the urge to take anything, everything personally.My hand still hurts from pounding it on the floor last time I felt like the crazy was getting worse. I'm not ready to do that again.
This is so fucking stupid.
no subject
on 2005-12-05 02:44 pm (UTC)I went on Wellbutrin shortly after I started my second attempt at quitting smoking, and haven't been off it since. This is my third attempt at quitting smoking. That two-or-so years of both smoking *and* being on wellbutrin at the same time were *heavenly*.
There are similarities between how I feel now and how I'd periodically feel while I was still smoking but before I was on Wellbutrin. Too bad I'm already past the max recommended dosage; while some neurological drugs are mostly-safe at higher dosages, Wellbutrin lowers the seizure threshold, so I won't be upping my dose.
I'm currently pouting because none of the stimulants currently available to me have a similar stimulation pattern as nicotine.