Quitting Smoking is Simultaneously a Huge Bitch and a Fantastic Trip

It is now 9 days (and counting) of no smokin’ and I have to say that I’ve discovered new layers of anger and hate within my personality that, I guess, I knew existed, but had buried away for a while. Mostly, this comes out when I come out of the house. If I can isolate myself indoors with minimal people, lots of music with headphones and baseball games or CSI reruns, then I can feel centered, balanced, happy. However, out in the world, I turn into a fucking demon with a mouth full of insults, epithets and venom. And, to top it off, I seem to be lapsing back into some of my assumed-to-be-gone post-accident ptsd symptoms. I’ve begun to have the sleep interrupting spasms and dreams that I thought I had rid myself of. Apparently, I’d mostly rid myself of them through smoking and drinking. What a healthy, therapeutic approach to life! Well, I’m working on drastically changing all that shit. Hopefully, the ptsd shit will fade quickly by being smothered by the growth and health that results from my changes here.

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