A Burr under the Skin


Wednesday. I was told to rest up and be ready for a big day today. Class first, then metro downtown for a meal and the new Bond film. ‘Rest up’ was 8 hours; funny how a ‘normal’ sleep can feel like resting up. That’s ok. If there’s one thing I’ve proven to myself over the past few weeks it’s that I can go on less than I think I can. As long as I’m amused. Bore me, and my eyes will droop, I will yawn, and you’re in danger of getting the awake but not awake version of Beeps, who can answer you but please don’t expect her to remember anything that goes on…

Yesterday’s verbal spew helped calm me. It doesn’t help in the minute-to-minute slog through of putting down the smoke, but at least I wasn’t on a tirade for the rest of the day. Well, a few more ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ passed my lips…More than I should have uttered for the day, but it didn’t continue. I’m NOT gonna stomp all over my brother’s stable mood.

Speaking of my bro (he’d hate to know I write anything about him, but then, he’s a big part of my life), the doc may take him off his meds because his blood pressure is up. Neither of us is thrilled, since we felt the meds were working for him. I’m glad, at least, that the docs here are so cautious. They really don’t want to cause long-term damage to their patients. Just wish my bro didn’t have to go through the yo-yo of meds testing; I’ve done it with my RA: take this new pill then sick as a dog or YES! it works but then it’s taken off the market or some such shit. Just fix me, damn it.

I’ve fixed tomorrow as my quasi-start date to quit. I’m gonna get up and catch the 7 to 8 a.m. swim, then grab an orange juice and head to my computer language class. It’s a bit of a cheat; I know I won’t be smoking before swimming, and then I’ll have class to keep me away from lighting up. Hoping that by the time I get back home I’ll be better able to say no since I won’t have saturated my system since the moment I got up. If I fail, if I smoke, that’ll be ok. It’s gonna be my first try. And if I end up doing what I’ve done in the past – shoving back my first smoke of the day by half an hour every day – I’ll eventually get there. Just gotta keep working at it, like my physical health. I hate shit like that with long term goals. Give me immediate satisfaction. Give me satisfaction yesterday, in fact, because now is too slow and too late. Bleh.

I searched out this new place I’m supposed to get help from…Can’t say I’m thrilled. It’s the Dutch equivalent of a Betty Ford clinic; their motto should just be ‘Got Addiction?’. For fucks sake! I just want a bit of support, a little mental propping up if I have issues. Maybe someone to talk to if stuff is coming up for me during the quitting process. I don’t fucking need a full on dry out and submit to whatever higher power or twelve steps or WHATEVER the fuck they’re gonna use (you know it’s gonna be SOMETHING). Just, you know, give a patch for any nicotine problems and ask me how I’m doing. Give me a phone number to call if I feel weak. Ok? Don’t get in my face with ‘addition’ shit. Fuck! Glad I have my patrol force on high alert out here…I won’t shave my head or go off with the tribe watching what I write (see what a comfort you all are to me?).

And oh! motherfucker…The herb tastes just that bit sweeter this morning, knowing I’ll try to not partake tomorrow.

Beyond the addiction issue:

As an update, I’m not seeing Ben this week. He’s just moved to a new place, and he still feels it’s too messy to have guests. A last minute request for help from his mother took up what time he was going to use to tidy the place. So maybe next week. Or, maybe it was all a blow off: I can’t tell. I don’t think so, and I don’t want to be so fucking cynical as to just THINK that, so right now I’m choosing to believe his words. If it happens again, and again…well, I’ll get the message. I’m neither happy nor upset over this; just noting it. Y’all know how I vacillate on the whole issue.

Do not feel ready for language classes this week, but then, when do I REALLY feel ready? Getting that resignation feeling when it comes to language: I’m an idiot, I know I’m an idiot, I accept I’m an idiot, please teach me. When ya get to THAT point, you’re ready to learn.

Tried to write something the other day. Just got into the deep thought process when my concentration was broken. No bleeding idea if it’s good or not, if I’ll be able to continue writing it or not. I feel a bit emptied of creativity right now. That’s a lonely feeling. However fast my thoughts run, I miss them when they’re not there. Like a thin blanket that offers more warmth against the cold than you’re aware, I’m just shivering without them. Give them back to me. Please. Please let me be able to fall into that world that isn’t a world until I write it mode.

Contemplating letting myself swim every day during my quit time…Don’t know. It won’t do my hair any good. Suppose I may need it, tho.

Damn! I feel restless already. Discomboobulated (oh, fuck off spell correct; it’s a word in my vocab). If it ends up that I GOTTA go swimming every day to wear myself out and PREVENT myself from smoking, then so be it. They’re the ones who didn’t want to see me until I was off it for 30 days even after I told them about how I hurt myself with exercise. What the fuck did they think I was gonna do? Of course exercise is my fall back: bored? Exercise. Restless? Exercise. Angry? Exercise. It takes up time, wears me out, and keeps me from eating or smoking or whatever I’m trying to avoid. I guess, as usual, I need to slug this out myself. But, when the time for counseling FINALLY comes, if I hear word one about excessive exercise or hurting myself or avoiding or any other fucking bullshit they’re gonna try to throw my way I am WALKING THE FUCK OUT. No fucking way. Not after they turned me away and told me to deal on my own. Then I HAVE to get through it the only way I know how, right? Don’t be hypocrites.

No. I will NOT walk out. This time I’m gonna stay. Stay and be a burr under their skin, like this fucking request has been to me. I’ll just go and be fucking belligerent if that’s where my goddamn head is. Fuck them. In no uncertain terms.


6 thoughts on “A Burr under the Skin

  1. lol! I know you have a lot going on, but you are such a fucking warrior! I love your determination, and I’m with you, don’t worry about the state of your hair…and I’m not aware of the exercise addiction issue quite yet (I’ll catch up soon) but yes, exercise would definitely be an answer to everything else that plagues you. Take care. Can’t wait to read you again.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. 🙂 Thanks for calling me a warrior. I sure hope so; I sure hope I’m not a wimp… Revised my goals to – in my brother’s words – something more realistic. Direct quote – “You can’t expect to leap over tall buildings. Well, I know you DO expect to, but come on!”


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