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June 8th, 2011

Dear Diary,

Friday began week #3 without a cigarette. Wahoo.  I decided to not continue the patches for 4 more weeks because they will just prolong the agony. My system will have to deal without nicotine eventually, so why not now? I’m already miserable, I reasoned…

By Sunday morning I start questioning this decision.

I am jittery, sleep deprived and intolerant of noise, light, and reality. My pores are seeping toxins because my face is breaking out like crazy. I only ate popcorn for breakfast and lunch, and cake for dinner one day this week.  The load of  laundry I did last week is still in the dryer – I just can’t make myself deal with it.

I watched the same 5 iCarly episodes 45 times and 4 episodes of ScoobyDoo 37 times, with my 6-year old granddaughter. I picked up and washed every piece of  Tupperware I own at least 5 times so my 1-year old granddaughter could pull it out of the cupboard and have a blast, and that dear diary, was the most enjoyable things I did all weekend.

Today I must have left my brain in bed with my sleeping hubby. I had been busy working  for 3 hours when I realized that I forgot to take my insulin. I do a routine every morning and I never forget  my medication. Until today. This inability to focus and remember things is making me mad. Why can’t I forget I smoked?

My blood glucose level was climbing and I was hours late taking my meds. You know the ones I mean – I take them for your safety. So, I take an early lunch break at 10:15 to drive home so I can shoot up and pop pills. It sounds a lot more fun than it is, believe me.

Now I am nearly out of gas, so I pump 7 gallons for $30 and drive back to work. I should have looked for my brain while I was home, but I forgot.