WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST IS NOT A PITY PARTY AS MUCH AS IT MIGHT SOUND LIKE ONE. THIS IS ME, THIS IS MY MIND, THIS IS MY LIFE, THIS IS HOW I'M HAVING TO COPE WITH BEING A PERSON WHO IS LOST AT THIS POINT IN HER LIFE. STOPPING SMOKING PULLED A LAST STRAW AND THE BUNDLE THAT WAS LOOSELY HELD TOGETHER CAME CRASHING DOWN. SO THIS IS HOW I'M TRYING TO PUT THINGS TOGETHER, EVEN IF IT'S NOT THE RIGHT WAY.
I am at a huge loss. My life has become a void. I sit here day after day, miserable, stuffing my face, hating myself and my life, and not doing a damn thing about it. Welcome to my mind, it is a veritable bottomless pit of loathing. I live the definition of insanity, I do the same things over and over and expect to get different results. I don't know why. I can see that if I don't change what I do nothing will be any different but I just can't seem to bring myself to take a step in any different direction. I don't even look in a different direction. I'm pretty sure I know what's there and I don't want to face it. It's change. It's doing something else. It's taking a risk. It's having to learn a new way. It's getting off the couch. I've been here so long it's all I know. I live in one room of the house. My living room. I sit my ass on the couch with the computer on my lap all day and do absolutely nothing. I eat non-stop. I sleep. It is my little cell and my living hell.
It started in May of 2014. One morning my left kneecap decided it was going to move due west without informing me. I was at one end of the house in the bathroom at the time and just about to get in the shower when it decided make its' move. It would not go back in, I tried more than once. I had to scootch myself out of the bathroom and through the bedroom to be able to open the bedroom door because my oldest son who was home at the time had not responded to my screams for help. He's a very heavy sleeper and my voice was starting to give out. After a rough ambulance ride, being in the worst pain ALMOST of my entire life, that honor remains with my stomach surgery, and then almost stopped breathing during the times they were trying to get it back in, the current life began. The orthopedic doctor I saw thought it was healing slowly but after about 6 months he suggested an MRI. Even with our health insurance I knew it was going to cost about $750. That was $750 I did not have. We live paycheck to paycheck like most people. After physical therapy and wearing a brace I kept going back to the ortho every few months but it just wasn't making any further progress so I finally had to give in and have the MRI done and just pay for it a little at a time. It was 16 months and I was up 20 pounds since I had dislocated it and guess what? I needed surgery. I was sent to the surgeon who said I needed a tendon or ligament from a donor (I don't remember which), had several meniscus tears he needed to fix, and he had to do something to the other side to keep my kneecap in its' correct track. He said once it was healed it wouldn't be the knee of a 20 year old but then I;m not 20 so I should be able to go back to doing what I love. Having a horse, riding, being outside, the nature buff, the lady who was on her feet most of the day, the strong tote-that-bale cowgirl, the sunny, outgoing lady at church who volunteered for as much as possible, who had friends, who was for the first time in her life skinny and who was very HAPPY. So the fastest way back to that life the better, right? Wrong! I did everything the surgeon told me. Did wonderful at PT after surgery, wore the compression stockings, wore the metal cage brace for months, wore the soft adjustable brace, rode my exercise bike, walked, went up and down steps, but the knee still hurt, or went numb or both at the same time. I fell down a lot, luckily managing to save the knee further injury by making sure I landed on anything but it! The surgeon said I wasn't doing enough to build up the strength, I think I waited too long to get the MRI and damaged it so badly that even a great repair couldn't bring it back. The life I had enjoyed was over. I had become so used to being unable to go anywhere and do anything that it had become my normal. I couldn't go anywhere, I couldn't do anything, I couldn't help anyone. All I could do was sit in my living room, on the computer, watch tv, eat, do physical therapy exercises, and try to get through each day. My husband and kids had to take care of everything. That meant that food was bought and prepared, laundry and dishes were maintained and animals fed. Nothing else in my house got done. It hasn't been cleaned in years.
I wanted my life back!!! I finally started to get it back at the beginning of last summer. My weight had come down to only being 10 pounds above where it was, which was actually too light for my size anyway. I decided I could start back into horses and ducks, I could start going outside some and maybe start going back to church. I knew I had to do one thing above all though. I had to quit smoking. I had made a promise to my husband on the evening of my husband's mother's death that I would quit. She passed away in May of 2015 as I read her 'White Fang' by Jack London, her favorite author. It wasn't her favorite book of his but it was always a good read so I chose it that evening. She was in hospice, suffocating to her death with COPD. She was in hospice for 9 days before she died so we took turns being there. As awful as it was watching her die it took over 2 years for me to finally say OK, I am going to actually quit smoking, hopefully BEFORE I end up with COPD or cancer. So I got a prescription for Chantix, set a date, found this site, and late in the evening on October 28, 2017 had my last cigarette. Then my life crashed.
I have spent 99 days on nothing but quitting smoking. I have not taken care of my horse or my ducks in that time. I take care of the cats and cook dinners most nights. I try to clean up and do laundry but since the kids don't work I make them earn their keep by doing dishes and laundry and taking care of the animals. I go grocery shopping and once a week I take my youngest son to college for one class. His brother usually picks him up. He'll get his license soon so I won't even have to go do that. I have replaced nicotine with food and have put on 20 pounds. I can't leave my house because I literally have only one pair of pants that fit. I refuse to buy bigger clothes. I just did that last summer to accommodate the 10 pounds put on after knee surgery. I can't stand myself. I feel fat, horrible, lazy, and ugly. And completely insane. Nothing feels right anymore. Part of my problem is that I just keep seeing who I WAS and I want that person back! Unfortunately time seems to run forward only in this dimension so I can't GO back to who I was. I have to become someone new going forward. I don't have the strength to become someone new. I have given up caring at this point. If I don't care I don't have to cope. It's what has gotten me through much of my life but it has never affected me this badly and it has not worked in this scenario, unless I don't care that I'm fat, lazy, and depressed ALL the time. I'm lonely but don't want to be around people or talk to people. It means I'd have to put on the happy face and voice and I'm not a good actor. I wear my heart on my sleeve as this narrative proves so acting is a waste of time. I don't know this person and I don't know how to work this person and there was no manual included. And what I really can't figure out is why quitting smoking changed me this much? What the hell is up with that? Did my whole self image revolve around smoking? It sort of did. It kept me getting up every 30 minutes to go out and smoke so I was on my feet more. I didn't stuff my face because I had the hand-to-mouth of smoking. I spent more time with my husband because he pretty much stays in the garage on weeknights. He comes home from work, changes, goes out to set up his work computer, watches tv or a movie and does work from home and/or putters on small projects. I used to go out and talk to him while I smoked. Now I only go out if I need a Diet Mt. Dew or a gallon of milk brought in. We honestly haven't had a conversation in at least 99 days. So I won't suffocate to death. I'll just be miserable for all the minutes I may have extended on my life! Yay. So this is where I am at day 100. Absolutely insane, hating me, hating my life and being lost. I want to smoke, badly. It sneaks up here and there but it's usually just a passing thought of 'I don't do that anymore'. Yesterday as I was writing this I really, truly wanted to smoke. Several times I thought "God I want a cigarette so bad!" I told the boys that too. They gave me hugs and support cuz mamma didn't raise unloving brats, just brats. Nah, they really are loving boys who actually initiate hugs! I have all the support so why do I feel so alone? Because I can't figure out who I am and I'm sick of being this me.
It is now day 100 since I quit. I thought I'd be happy, excited and ready to celebrate. This me could care less.
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