The first three days of being a non smoker were like a weird psycho-tropic drug for me. My nicorette patches were way too strong and gave me the shakes and a heart like a racehorse on acid, so I didn’t crave smoking that much. The work crush guy had asked me out to dinner at the end of the week so I spent most of my time at work re-applying my make up and wandering the hallway downstairs in the hopes of bumping into him. I barely ate or slept and I rushed around all day thinking, fuck me, this quitting thing is easier than I remember. Then came Friday, Day Four.
I was sitting at my desk trying to write an email when I noticed the screen was kind of warping and shimmering in front of my eyes. I also noticed that Felicia, the girl I share my office with, was speaking to me but not making any noise. She was just pursing her lips and blowing air at me like a goldfish when you’re about to feed it. My office phone kept ringing and I conducted conversations as if at the end of a very long tunnel, hearing the reverb of their voice echoing in my ears. As the day went on I felt more and more sick and overwhelmed, but my long awaited date with the boy crush was that night so I refused to acknowledge there was a legitimate problem.
I don’t recall exactly what happened at around 3pm that day, but these are the key elements I do remember:
Me hurling my phone receiver onto the desk while making a strangled war cry.
Me screaming at the office manager ‘Why Won’t People Stop Talking To Me?’
Me running downstairs and throwing up in the hotel bathroom.
Me running back upstairs and collecting my things without a word of explanation to anybody.
Me sending an incoherent text to my boy crush cancelling our date.
My boy crush staring bewildered at me as I ran past him on my way to the car park, sobbing hysterically.
Moral of the story: Take quitting seriously, or it will fuck your arse up.
A
like baby boomers with technology - it's all going too fast!
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