Nicotine, Sweet Nicotine.
December 17th, 2001 by Kevin
Well, I had a fun weekend. One Christmas party, one packed club, several nervous breakdowns, and several thousand drinks. I think D. and I are going to walk around like zombies all week, as we have just completed three days of screaming, crying, bitchy, accusatory Hell.It was really cathartic, though. I feel much better. I think I’ve managed to get most of the insane stress out of my system. Cliched as it sounds, I think D. and I have strengthened our relationship by laying every little bitch, gripe, complaint, irritation, and issue out on the table.
Ironically enough, one of those issues was my overuse of the Internet. Go figure. D.’s been a little irked at the fact that I stalk around the house like a slient, angry specter, never talking about the myriad of things that are upsetting me; yet I sit in front of the laptop and type away like a house on fire.
He’s a smidge jealous of you, my Internet confidants. Fair enough. I’m sure you’re all quite jealous of the fact that he gets to see me sing karaoke at the top of my drunken lungs.
You are, aren’t you? Huh?
I explained that sometimes it’s much easier to tell a sea of faceless strangers how you feel than it is to tell the very real person standing right in front of you. The faceless strangers are nice and supportive and kind, because the faceless strangers don’t have to live with the neurosis. They simply click it away. They don’t have to watch the tears pouring down your face and wonder, “Crap, now what the hell do I do to make this OK?”
I guess D. has been spending a lot of time trying to make things OK, whereas I have been spending a lot of time with my head up my ass. And it’s dark in there.
So, we screamed, we cursed, we yelled, and we worked it out as best as we could. There were several times during the weekend that I thought one of us would walk right out the front door and keep on walkin’, but we’re both still here.
We decided that I could be a little less distant, and that he could be a little more understanding.
I feel very lucky.
We also started smoking again. I’m not proud to admit that, but when faced with the choice of either smoking or walking around like a psychotic nervous wreck who ate everything that wasn’t nailed to a plate and had to take three sleeping pills a night just to get four lousy hours, I chose to smoke. D. agreed. I guess he’s been dying to light up as much as I have. So we agreed to at least try to keep it down to a minimum, and think about quitting when our lives are a little less chaotic.
I’m sure that everyone I know is quite glad that I’m puffing away again. I wasn’t the most fun non-smoker to be around.
I did a lot of thinking, and I realized that I simply need a crutch to make it through the pressure and pain of recent stress-inducing events. Dumb? Maybe. Weak? Probably. Better than sitting in the corner weeping silently, avoiding family and friends, and screaming at my son every ten minutes for no apparent reason? Definitely.
I’m still a little foggy. I haven’t even gotten around to screaming at SSI yet, because I honestly don’t think I can put three sentences together. I’m going to do it later this week, when the smell of Christmas cookies will hopefully be a calming influence. The only way I’m going to get anywhere by screaming and crying at government office workers is to change my claim to “Unspecified Mental Illness”.
Today, I am going to write out five thousand Christmas cards, smoke without guilt, make a shoppping list, and try to relax.
Hopefully, it’ll all work out.
Anonymous wrote on 12/2/06 at 11:53 pm :