Bleh. It’s 4 in the morning and I’m up. Sweated up my pj’s. Headache. Oh, I’m tired – but I can’t sleep. Welcome to withdrawal. I’ve been so damned harsh on myself lately that I went a little too far with quitting/cutting back. Shoulda been a bit easier on myself.
So. The dentist gave me the all clear. Told me ‘try not to worry’. Oh, Gods. Try not to worry. If I was given a nickel every time I heard that, I’d be rich. He did remove my stitches, saying the area around the thread was red and a little infected. That hurt. When he gave me a syringe with specific instructions on how to clean the wound and said ‘it’s gonna hurt when you do this’ I thought: well, at least he’s honest. But he was honest on the cautious side; it doesn’t hurt at all compared to him pulling those stitches out.
*sigh* And last night as I put my mouth guard in, I saw a hole in the guard. Right where all the problems are. Must have bit right thru it. Physical evidence of what my subconscious mind is willing to do to me doesn’t make me feel any better.
Thought a lot yesterday about my post. I realized I really don’t refer to myself by my given name any more. At 30, I chose a stage name. Something I liked, someone I wanted to be. I took it as my own. As I writer, I have an entirely different pen name. Even out here, I prefer to call myself Beeps. Anything but the name my mother gave me. It struck me that maybe that was a mistake. Maybe I wasn’t really getting thru to the little girl in me, because the little girl (like it or not) identified with the name her mother gave her. Trying to call myself by that childhood diminutive when I talk to myself. I keep forgetting and reverting back to one of my adult names. Then I correct myself. Doing a lot of hugging myself, stroking my upper arms, rocking in my chair. Comfort actions, all.
Crap. How the hell did I get here? How the hell did I slip past so fucking much and end up such a complete mess?
…Right. That isn’t gonna help. You feel sick. Okay. You’re in a shitty place. Okay. You know what this is. Your body’s suffering nicotine withdrawal. You’ve done really, really well on cutting back. But you never said you’d quit entirely. Cut yourself some slack. Everyone says ‘tough it out’ but they don’t have to live it, do they? No. They go home to their comfortable houses with their comfortable lives and their comfortable sleep patterns that never, ever get disturbed.
Smoke something. Get rid of the worst of the headache. Get rid of the worst of the nausea.
Hell! I haven’t even been able to enjoy reading Matilda because I’ve felt so off. That makes me sadder than anything.
This isn’t a failure. This isn’t a failure. There is no failure. How do you feel in your skin? Horrible? Then take care of yourself. Get yourself past right now. You have two choices: freak out, or deal. I know you want to freak out. I know. You don’t just want to, you feel like you gotta. But freaking out is gonna make it worse.
…Counter intuitive to all those therapists out there, not breathing is helpful. All that deep breathing crap when I’m tight in my body makes me feel like I’m gasping for air, trying to breathe deep and relax. I’ve always run contrary, so try the opposite. Exhale, and hold. Notice you’re still here. Nothing’s happened. …Can’t say my body feels too much more relaxed but it does help on the freak factor.
And as the clock ticks toward five, controlling the freak factor is all I’m after.