I'm posting an entry I made about three years ago at the start of my quit journey...five days in to be precise. Oh, what's the word for the experience at the time? Raw? Nervous? Crazy? Today I know that I could do it, back then I hoped that I could. Three years off the smokes, three years of learning what I once knew naturally...how to do anything without cigarettes. It just keeps getting better...
Journal Entry October 8 2013.
Top of Moody Park. Blue sky after three days of being clouded in.
Delusional right now. Five days now without a smoke. Sometimes I feel good about it, but always, I feel something is missing. ..and of course something is missing—the cigarettes. I worked hard for three weeks preparing for this time of quitting, now that it is here, I feel sad about having quit. Too hard to make sense of this feeling...it's not rational. But right now, here I am at the top of Moody Park wishing that I didn't feel the way I feel right now; nothing seems important, nothing.
And I don't recognize my “landscape.” Routine, everything is off. But most of all, I'm not interested in anything.
Guy is using a metal detector, searching for valuables. He's looking for jewelry that has been lost by visitors. Gusts of wind blowing high. Crows are cawing quite a bit right now. Finally Haynes' cows are back out in the pasture across from the top of the park.
I don't know if it is peak, it's close. A lot of yellow, gold, brown and salmon color this year.
The wind is knocking down acorns.
What I find peculiar is that before I even thought of quitting, my days were full. I don't remember twiddling my thumbs wondering how to fill my time. Don't remember feeling empty...that everything is meaningless, pointless.
Obviously years of smoking does impress a ritual/habit ….but I can hardly believe that these unpleasant feelings are the end of the story, the journey.
Yep I've quit smoking so that I can grudgingly plod through my days feeling worthless, life is meaningless, and there is no point to anything.
This all sounds like a delusion.
Woman languishes in her car, a bag of cheese curls was not enough to bring back meaning to her world.
I just want the day to matter to me.
It cannot be that a cigarette will make that happen.
This must be a delusion.
