Every year on my birthday, I want to cut my losses and run. Thanks parent, boyfriend, sibling, co-worker, friend, but the pressure of January 25th is too much. Although we've had a good run, I just can't take it. Thanks again, but sayonara. I'm going to move to a cave in the desert and try out that locust diet.
I've tried to get to the bottom of this existential birthday dread. Honestly, I tend to have a pretty good birthday. My parents never forgot to celebrate it, nothing terrible has ever happened on this day, I'm not afraid of getting older. What I think it comes down to is I have super conflicting feelings. I am both praying to Jesus and begging all the saints that I get a few Facebook notifications, while simultaneously thinking I should hide my birthday from the about section. I am holding my breath that I get flowers, but also willing that I don't because I can't deal with my coworker's reaction. I want elaborate gifts, and at the same time I want everyone to forget it. It's a conflict that no one can win, least of all me.
What's the remedy? I always fantasize about running away to Mexico. I could die my hair, don a pair of cat-eye vintage sunglasses and ride away into the horizon. Wait until the heat dies down a little bit. Or just live in total denial. Look quizzically at anyone who mentions this cursed day. Both seem pretty viable.
But something odd happened this morning. After getting in a fight with someone who definitely didn't deserve it, smashing my iPhone to the point I can't use it and falling of my bike at spin class, I felt a weird sense of relief. Today was just going to suck. Yes, yes I could make the best of the situation, see the silver lining and all, but it wasn't going to be perfect. So much of the pressure was taken off. I feel vaguely like I might cry, but that might be more related to my iPhone than I'm willing to admit. At this point, if the rain holds off and I don't end up with food poisoning, the day can only go up. Is that the solution? I don't know how I would ever replicate this, but it's working for now, so I'm not going to question it. I have another 364 days to figure it out.
Birthdays are hard. I'm hesitant to post this, because it might make me look cynical or depressed. But I'm guessing I'm not the only one to feel this way. In my 25th year, I want to be more honest. Or I'm having a quarter-life crisis. Either way, cheers to me. May my birthday continue to not be perfect and may I find happiness in that.
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
Monday, December 26, 2016
Merry Christmas from the Eppersons
This was taken from our family's annual Christmas card. My siblings and I take turns writing it every year.
Dearest friends and family --
This is Emily writing to you from Hipster, NY, aka Brooklyn. In a random conversation, I offered to write our family’s Christmas card, and my mother remembered, so unfortunately you are stuck with me this year. I asked my family, in our group chat, to send me something they learned this year in an effort to make our Christmas card a little different. Unfortunately, only my mother answered, so you’re stuck with the usual recap. I’ll try to keep you entertained, but just in case you don’t bother getting to the end (it’s the holiday season, we’re all busy, I get it) I will wish you the merriest of Christmases now from the Epperson Family. For our more devoted family and friends, read on.
AMY - It’s fitting to start with my sister this year. Amy graduated from the Naval Academy in May and the family trekked to Maryland for her graduation. We are all extremely proud of her, and glad she graduated in a year that Navy actually beat Army. Amy is now based in San Diego and serves as a Main Propulsion Officer on the U.S.S. Pickney. When I asked her what this meant, she texted me, “I help make the ship go.” She’s loving living in California again because she can hike, go to farmer’s markets and get stuck for hours in traffic on the phone with me.
CINDY - I took a poll of my siblings, and we all agree that my mother gets the MVP of the Epperson Family award. A week before my sister’s graduation, my mother shattered her elbow. Despite that, she still traveled to Annapolis and has showed nothing but resilience, courage and hope since. If we didn’t respect the hell out of her before, we sure do now. She’s as busy as ever, and continues to volunteer too much. More importantly, her cats, Max and Stanley are adequately spoiled and consistently photographed for us.
ANDREW- Everytime I try to call or text my brother, I am told, “Em, I’m really busy.” Though we all try to tell him to enjoy his college years, as the job world is much less fun, he doesn’t seem to believe us. Andrew is studying to be a mechanical engineer at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, which would have made both of his grandfathers proud. He is very involved at school, in both his engineering fraternity, Sigma Phi Delta, and as a photographer for the college’s newspaper. He should also know, his oldest sister misses him very much and wishes that he would pick up her phone calls more often.
DAVID - Dad is living his best life. Between killing it at work and in his personal life, we all can’t help but feel really proud of him. He’s finally turned off Fox News, and instead is calling me to tell me of another reflection he’s had about Dante. Or razz me about living in Brooklyn, but hey, we can’t all be perfect. Between cruising around town in his classic car, smoking a stogie or being really present for everyone in his life, dad’s pretty busy.
As for me, this year I’ve really been meditating on how much of a blessing my family is. Between starting a new job to quitting smoking, I haven’t exactly been a joy to be around. But as Hemingway said, “We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.” My family has become that light for me. Our prayer this year, is that we can not only be this light for each other, but also a light for you. That through Christ’s unending light, we are given grace to love and be there for all our friends and family. So, if you’re one of the few who made it to the bottom of our card, we love you, we are blessed by you and we can’t wait to see you again soon.
Much love,
The Epperson Family
Tuesday, August 30, 2016
Am I Loser? It's Still Up For Debate
I was getting my nails done after church on Sunday and my phone buzzed. Thinking it was this guy I'm trying to stop seeing who I think is in the Jewish mafia, I ignored it. When my manicurist got up to massage my back, which I hate and didn't ask for, I checked my phone. Turns out it's been one month since I quit smoking. As of now I have not smoked in 720 hours, saved $527.38, skipped 753 cigarettes and put 180 hours back on my life. In other words, I'm over it.
It's not that I'm not happy or proud of myself. I am. I think I freaking deserve a gold star. But really, is my life so much different? Meh. I told my therapist that I think I've lost my cool factor. After rolling her eyes at me. she suggested finding a new hobby. Slay me. I love her, but no hobby will replace smoking. Nothing will ever be as satisfying, fun, COOL or interesting as smoking. I am doomed to nerdom forever.
What did I expect was going to happen once I stopped smoking? Truthfully, I assumed I had a contract with God that if I quit, everything else would magically go right. I would lose 1 million pounds, make all the friends, finally develop a fashion sense, open a real savings account and get a boyfriend who wouldn't make my mother cringe.
Well, none of that happened. In fact, things have been pretty much static. Except one thing: my dad got me an eHarmony gift card. This was utter proof that any je ne sais quoi I thought I had is completely and utterly gone. It shouldn't matter that my parents think I'm a bit of a loser. But it's starting to.
Forget the nicotine withdrawal, I'm going crazy from being boring. So if I can't smoke anymore, then I am going to white knuckle my way to being interesting. Taking a cue from Queen Shonda Rhimes I am hereby instituting my year of yes. Any opportunity that comes knocking, I am going to freaking* open the door for and invite in.
I haven't made a list in awhile, but here are a few things I've decided to say yes to in the three days I've decided to do this:
1. Going to the grocery store with my roommate even though I didn't need anything
2. Eating outdoors instead of at my desk
3. Some Catholic thing that involves confession and a pub afterward
4. Agreeing to a date I don't really want to go on
5. Reading a book I feel meh about
6. Making plans to go to a family reunion
7. Reading a book about tidying and taking out 10 bags of stuff out of my room (NOTE: I would not do this if you're in a bad mood. I sort of regret a few things I flippantly threw away, like my graduation gown).
8. Wearing heels to work
9. Adding butter to my coffee (apparently it's healthy?)
10. Updating the software on my phone
We'll see how successful I am. But things can only go up from here... right?
*I don't actually use the use work freaking as much as my blog would suggest. I censor myself in order to avoid getting shit from my dad and Evan.
It's not that I'm not happy or proud of myself. I am. I think I freaking deserve a gold star. But really, is my life so much different? Meh. I told my therapist that I think I've lost my cool factor. After rolling her eyes at me. she suggested finding a new hobby. Slay me. I love her, but no hobby will replace smoking. Nothing will ever be as satisfying, fun, COOL or interesting as smoking. I am doomed to nerdom forever.
Well, none of that happened. In fact, things have been pretty much static. Except one thing: my dad got me an eHarmony gift card. This was utter proof that any je ne sais quoi I thought I had is completely and utterly gone. It shouldn't matter that my parents think I'm a bit of a loser. But it's starting to.
Forget the nicotine withdrawal, I'm going crazy from being boring. So if I can't smoke anymore, then I am going to white knuckle my way to being interesting. Taking a cue from Queen Shonda Rhimes I am hereby instituting my year of yes. Any opportunity that comes knocking, I am going to freaking* open the door for and invite in.
I haven't made a list in awhile, but here are a few things I've decided to say yes to in the three days I've decided to do this:
1. Going to the grocery store with my roommate even though I didn't need anything
2. Eating outdoors instead of at my desk
3. Some Catholic thing that involves confession and a pub afterward
4. Agreeing to a date I don't really want to go on
5. Reading a book I feel meh about
6. Making plans to go to a family reunion
7. Reading a book about tidying and taking out 10 bags of stuff out of my room (NOTE: I would not do this if you're in a bad mood. I sort of regret a few things I flippantly threw away, like my graduation gown).
8. Wearing heels to work
9. Adding butter to my coffee (apparently it's healthy?)
10. Updating the software on my phone
We'll see how successful I am. But things can only go up from here... right?
*I don't actually use the use work freaking as much as my blog would suggest. I censor myself in order to avoid getting shit from my dad and Evan.
Sunday, August 7, 2016
"I Need a Cigarette": A Memoir
Okay, so I've been silent for a few days, but this does not mean that I've fallen off the wagon. Really, I spent the week fighting with my doctor over an INSANE bill, working a lot, seeing Suicide Squad, chasing my cat and binge watching the Olympics in my underwear. Currently I am sitting on my bed eating sprees and listening to Marina and the Diamonds. So pretty much a typical week in the Epperson/Wendy household.
Today officially marks a week without smoking. That means I haven't smoked in a whopping 172.4 hours, skipped 179.6 cigarettes, saved $125.74 and regained 43 hours of my life. All in all, I'm doing okay. It seems that the worst has passed. The reason that I haven't written is that I have nothing new to report. I'm pretty cranky, as my family can attest to (sorry), but at this point it's more of a choice than a result of nicotine withdrawal.
I get asked a lot why I started smoking. I didn't grow up in a smoking household and neither of my siblings smoke. I often have been told that I don't look like a person who smokes. I don't know exactly what that means, but I think it's the over-flowing girliness and the fact that I actually still look like a 12 year old. So I've spent the week reflecting on that question and this blog post is what I've come up with.
I'm warning you now, the start of this story sounds like an after-school special. Read on at your own peril.
I was 18 and it was the summer before college. I had elected not to work, so basically I had idle hands and you know how the rest goes. Everyone was smoking that summer and I thought what the hell. I was dying to be an adult and this seemed like something adults do. So I tried it. WORST DECISION EVER. And the stupidest. No real thought even went into it. I just did it. (Cue the Law and Order dun-dun here)
I wasn't a pack a day person at this point by any means. I smoked when I was extremely stressed or when I was at a party. But then I dated a guy who smoked, tons of people at Hillsdale smoked, my course level increased and I just fell into it, head over heels.
I promised myself that I would quit before the end of college. Unfortunately during my last semester, things were really tough. I was extremely unhappy and trying to quit smoking wasn't feasible. Never mind that I had developed a horrible smoker's cough. Never mind that it was eating away the little money I had. Never mind that it drove my boyfriend crazy. Nothing would have made me stop.
So I moved to New York, still a smoker, and started a stressful job in news. Everyone in journalism smokes. so it was once again a way to fit in. My boyfriend dumped me so that problem was out of the way. But truthfully, I just didn't want to stop. It was fun, relaxing and in my mind, I could quit whenever I wanted to. Laugh out loud.
(Don't worry, I've finished my sprees so this is coming to an end)
So why now? Why in the world, would I put myself through this hell? Here's the gist of it. A lot has happened in the last few months, that has been awful. My life has twisted and flipped and changed in ways I didn't expect it to, or ask for. I even had to have my appendix out on the Fourth of July! As the bad kept piling on, and my daily cigarette count increased, I kept looking for some cosmic lesson I was suppose to learn from all of this. There had to be a reason this was all happening to me.
After a few months of navel gazing, a lot of desperate prayers and just white knuckling it, I've learned that I haven't faced my problems head on since I was 18 years old. Everything has been a bit smoked filled. When things got bad, I always had my friend Marlboro Light to lean on. Cigarettes were my confidant, my therapist, my coach, my everything. So a week ago I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with my shit, pardon my French. It was time to look at my life, look at my choices and evaluate it honestly. Smoking had to go.
It hasn't been easy or fun or particularly rewarding, but I'm still glad I did it. Would I go back and turn down my first cigarette? Definitely not. I still don't regret it. But would I pick up one now, even if things get really bad? Definitely not. Grown-up Emmaline is here to stay
.
Today officially marks a week without smoking. That means I haven't smoked in a whopping 172.4 hours, skipped 179.6 cigarettes, saved $125.74 and regained 43 hours of my life. All in all, I'm doing okay. It seems that the worst has passed. The reason that I haven't written is that I have nothing new to report. I'm pretty cranky, as my family can attest to (sorry), but at this point it's more of a choice than a result of nicotine withdrawal.
I get asked a lot why I started smoking. I didn't grow up in a smoking household and neither of my siblings smoke. I often have been told that I don't look like a person who smokes. I don't know exactly what that means, but I think it's the over-flowing girliness and the fact that I actually still look like a 12 year old. So I've spent the week reflecting on that question and this blog post is what I've come up with.
I'm warning you now, the start of this story sounds like an after-school special. Read on at your own peril.
I was 18 and it was the summer before college. I had elected not to work, so basically I had idle hands and you know how the rest goes. Everyone was smoking that summer and I thought what the hell. I was dying to be an adult and this seemed like something adults do. So I tried it. WORST DECISION EVER. And the stupidest. No real thought even went into it. I just did it. (Cue the Law and Order dun-dun here)
I wasn't a pack a day person at this point by any means. I smoked when I was extremely stressed or when I was at a party. But then I dated a guy who smoked, tons of people at Hillsdale smoked, my course level increased and I just fell into it, head over heels.
I promised myself that I would quit before the end of college. Unfortunately during my last semester, things were really tough. I was extremely unhappy and trying to quit smoking wasn't feasible. Never mind that I had developed a horrible smoker's cough. Never mind that it was eating away the little money I had. Never mind that it drove my boyfriend crazy. Nothing would have made me stop.
So I moved to New York, still a smoker, and started a stressful job in news. Everyone in journalism smokes. so it was once again a way to fit in. My boyfriend dumped me so that problem was out of the way. But truthfully, I just didn't want to stop. It was fun, relaxing and in my mind, I could quit whenever I wanted to. Laugh out loud.
(Don't worry, I've finished my sprees so this is coming to an end)
So why now? Why in the world, would I put myself through this hell? Here's the gist of it. A lot has happened in the last few months, that has been awful. My life has twisted and flipped and changed in ways I didn't expect it to, or ask for. I even had to have my appendix out on the Fourth of July! As the bad kept piling on, and my daily cigarette count increased, I kept looking for some cosmic lesson I was suppose to learn from all of this. There had to be a reason this was all happening to me.
After a few months of navel gazing, a lot of desperate prayers and just white knuckling it, I've learned that I haven't faced my problems head on since I was 18 years old. Everything has been a bit smoked filled. When things got bad, I always had my friend Marlboro Light to lean on. Cigarettes were my confidant, my therapist, my coach, my everything. So a week ago I decided it was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with my shit, pardon my French. It was time to look at my life, look at my choices and evaluate it honestly. Smoking had to go.
It hasn't been easy or fun or particularly rewarding, but I'm still glad I did it. Would I go back and turn down my first cigarette? Definitely not. I still don't regret it. But would I pick up one now, even if things get really bad? Definitely not. Grown-up Emmaline is here to stay
Wednesday, August 3, 2016
Thresholds (and How Mine is Literally -1,000,000,000,000)
So today was... better. Kind of. According to my annoyingly happy app, I have gone 77.3 hours without smoking, added 19 hours to my life, not smoked 80.5 cigarettes and saved $56.36.
Okay, to be honest I wrote that about an hour ago and then wanted a cigarette desperately so I called a friend, but he/she/it didn't pick up. So I texted my stop smoking hotline and they told me to take a walk. So I did. I proceeded to stomp around my block for about 10 minutes before thinking it was dumb and being worried about being stabbed (which, side note, is still my biggest fear about living in New York). So I stomped home and laid on the floor with my cat for about 10 minutes before shoving a wad of nicotine gum in my mouth and trying this again.
Yesterday, I was a champ, finding the silver lining, talking about prayer, writing a top-notch post. Today I am cranky beyond all measure. I really, really, really, really want to smoke. Like really badly. I actually thought, for the first time, that I could actually get rid of all of this pain by walking down to my bodega, buying a pack of Marlboro lights, selecting one beautiful cigarette and inhaling with everything I have. Geeze, I just read that over and it sounds like I'm a freaking junkie. But you, my lovely audience, are keeping me honest. That and a crap ton of gum.
The interwebs informed me that mood swings and irritability are to be expected, but once again really undersold how bad it would be. I guess when contemplating quitting I was really worried about going through a traumatizing life event and not having a cigarette to lean back out. I was in no way prepared for all the annoyingness of everyday life exaggerated by the fact that my body is in all-out mutiny against me.
So, on that note, here is a list of only a few annoyances that I totally blew up over today:
1. Having a job means you can't stay in bed all day feeling sorry for yourself
2. Eyeliner never goes on straight when you're in a hurry, or maybe it's that I can't draw a straight line if my life depended on it
3. Everyone in New York should know that I quit smoking and should avoid me if they plan to light up
4. I am allergic to my nicotine patch. The below photo of my stomach is from two days when I was trying to illicit sympathy from my parents
5. Eating. If America can put a man on the moon why isn't there a pill I can take that gives me all my nutrition and avoids me having to make dietary decisions... or cook?
6. Also why do phone batteries still die? I probably don't understand electricity or something, but like seriously. What are all those nerds at Apple getting rich for if I can't spend 5 minutes on Pokemon Go without losing all my battery?
7. People in relationships. PSA to everyone riding the subway in New York: do not make out in front of me for the next few weeks if you intend on keeping all of your limbs intact
8. People who are pushy on the subway. See #7
9. I had to re-order this list like a million times to make the flow work
10. Annoying stuff costs money, like a subway card or tissues or a new dress. Why do I never have money?
11. Sometimes people say the wrong thing, or I take it wrong, or they don't understand, or I don't understand. Whatever. Communication is just straight up annoying.
12. Coffee getting cold. Or me forgetting I have coffee and remembering and then taking a huge gulp and then gagging for 10 minutes.
13. Emails. I wish everyone had to communicate by sending owls like in Harry Potter. That way, if someone wanted to send "Okay" as a message, it would be as annoying to send as it is to get
Let's end it there, because 13 is unlucky and I'm feeling unlucky, and you're probably thinking I was a lot less cranky when I was smoking. And you're right. And if I let that line of thinking go on too long, my dad is going to dress me for going out and my chances of getting a boyfriend will be slimmer than they are now. The end.
Okay, to be honest I wrote that about an hour ago and then wanted a cigarette desperately so I called a friend, but he/she/it didn't pick up. So I texted my stop smoking hotline and they told me to take a walk. So I did. I proceeded to stomp around my block for about 10 minutes before thinking it was dumb and being worried about being stabbed (which, side note, is still my biggest fear about living in New York). So I stomped home and laid on the floor with my cat for about 10 minutes before shoving a wad of nicotine gum in my mouth and trying this again.
Yesterday, I was a champ, finding the silver lining, talking about prayer, writing a top-notch post. Today I am cranky beyond all measure. I really, really, really, really want to smoke. Like really badly. I actually thought, for the first time, that I could actually get rid of all of this pain by walking down to my bodega, buying a pack of Marlboro lights, selecting one beautiful cigarette and inhaling with everything I have. Geeze, I just read that over and it sounds like I'm a freaking junkie. But you, my lovely audience, are keeping me honest. That and a crap ton of gum.
The interwebs informed me that mood swings and irritability are to be expected, but once again really undersold how bad it would be. I guess when contemplating quitting I was really worried about going through a traumatizing life event and not having a cigarette to lean back out. I was in no way prepared for all the annoyingness of everyday life exaggerated by the fact that my body is in all-out mutiny against me.
So, on that note, here is a list of only a few annoyances that I totally blew up over today:
1. Having a job means you can't stay in bed all day feeling sorry for yourself
2. Eyeliner never goes on straight when you're in a hurry, or maybe it's that I can't draw a straight line if my life depended on it
3. Everyone in New York should know that I quit smoking and should avoid me if they plan to light up
4. I am allergic to my nicotine patch. The below photo of my stomach is from two days when I was trying to illicit sympathy from my parents
5. Eating. If America can put a man on the moon why isn't there a pill I can take that gives me all my nutrition and avoids me having to make dietary decisions... or cook?
6. Also why do phone batteries still die? I probably don't understand electricity or something, but like seriously. What are all those nerds at Apple getting rich for if I can't spend 5 minutes on Pokemon Go without losing all my battery?
7. People in relationships. PSA to everyone riding the subway in New York: do not make out in front of me for the next few weeks if you intend on keeping all of your limbs intact
8. People who are pushy on the subway. See #7
9. I had to re-order this list like a million times to make the flow work
10. Annoying stuff costs money, like a subway card or tissues or a new dress. Why do I never have money?
11. Sometimes people say the wrong thing, or I take it wrong, or they don't understand, or I don't understand. Whatever. Communication is just straight up annoying.
12. Coffee getting cold. Or me forgetting I have coffee and remembering and then taking a huge gulp and then gagging for 10 minutes.
13. Emails. I wish everyone had to communicate by sending owls like in Harry Potter. That way, if someone wanted to send "Okay" as a message, it would be as annoying to send as it is to get
Let's end it there, because 13 is unlucky and I'm feeling unlucky, and you're probably thinking I was a lot less cranky when I was smoking. And you're right. And if I let that line of thinking go on too long, my dad is going to dress me for going out and my chances of getting a boyfriend will be slimmer than they are now. The end.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Miserable at Best
"I guess that I can live without you but, without you I'll be miserable at best." - Mayday Parade
My inner angsty emo kid is rearing her ugly, eye-liner filled head. Reading over yesterday's post seems comical considering how awful I feel today. According to my handy-dandy Quit Smoking app, I have gone 43.9 hours without smoking, which means I haven't smoked 45.7 cigarettes, I've saved $32.03 and regained 10 hours of my life. 91% of the nicotine is expelled from my body, making my desire for a cigarette stronger than I've ever felt before.
So last night I called my parents (who have been incredibly awesome during this and deserve more thanks than I could possibly give them) and cried about how hard this whole thing was. They assured me that I'm totally normal and not a huge baby about this. Someone, who was trying to get me to quit smoking in college, told me that nicotine was more addictive than heroin. I've learned that's not 100% true. Nicotine is as addictive as heroin and a host of other amphetamines. The main problem is that most drugs produce either tolerance or withdrawal. Nicotine produces both. So during the 5 years that I've smoked I've steadily built up a tolerance to more and more cigarettes, which makes the withdrawal even worse.
There's also just the phycology of quitting. I bet if you tried to mention me to your Hillsdale friends and they weren't sure who I was, you could probably say, "the girl that smokes," and they would know it was me. Smoking was a part of my identity. I wouldn't take back one conversation I had over a cigarette with friends. Hell, I met a ton of friends and even two boyfriends over cigarettes. I spent many an hour outdoors catching up with my parents while smoking. I smoked in the morning over coffee and on the weekends over a beer. I smoked at home, at work, at bars, at college, at internships, in the newspaper office, outside my sorority house. My closest friends say they feel calm when they smell cigarettes because it reminds them of me. My car reeked of it. My clothes reeked of it. My hair reeked of it. Who am I without smoking?
To be honest, I'm not really sure. The internet told me to expect a period of morning over quitting smoking. When I was preparing for this, I thought that was the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I know now it's not. Though I am gaining years of my life back, I'm losing a huge part of who I thought I was.
I was on the phone with Evan yesterday and I jokingly told him that I'm praying for the Holy Spirit to fill me and not cigarette smoke. I guess that's sort of the answer though, right? I can still make friends, have an unsuccessful dating life, call my parents and all the rest without smoking. I'm not losing the essence of Emmaline, I'm just finding a new outlet for dealing with my emotions and being social other than lighting up. So thank you for all of you who liked my post, snapchatted, texted or called me. You've told me that this new Emmaline is valuable and loved, despite not being the first one with a lighter. You've all made me stronger. So, day 3, come at me.
My inner angsty emo kid is rearing her ugly, eye-liner filled head. Reading over yesterday's post seems comical considering how awful I feel today. According to my handy-dandy Quit Smoking app, I have gone 43.9 hours without smoking, which means I haven't smoked 45.7 cigarettes, I've saved $32.03 and regained 10 hours of my life. 91% of the nicotine is expelled from my body, making my desire for a cigarette stronger than I've ever felt before.
According to the millions of online resources I have scoured, cigarettes are super addictive (I know duh, right). Basically, my body has a dependence on a certain level of nicotine at all times. Unless I maintain that level, I go into withdrawal, which has about 10,000 symptoms that can be summarized as you feel like death warmed over. Unfortunately, every website describes withdrawal as "unpleasant." I'm sorry, unpleasant doesn't even begin to cover it. Getting my mustache waxed is unpleasant. Going through nicotine withdrawal is (thank you thesaurus) atrocious, depressing, dire, gruesome, harrowing, nasty, tough, etc., etc., etc.
So last night I called my parents (who have been incredibly awesome during this and deserve more thanks than I could possibly give them) and cried about how hard this whole thing was. They assured me that I'm totally normal and not a huge baby about this. Someone, who was trying to get me to quit smoking in college, told me that nicotine was more addictive than heroin. I've learned that's not 100% true. Nicotine is as addictive as heroin and a host of other amphetamines. The main problem is that most drugs produce either tolerance or withdrawal. Nicotine produces both. So during the 5 years that I've smoked I've steadily built up a tolerance to more and more cigarettes, which makes the withdrawal even worse.
There's also just the phycology of quitting. I bet if you tried to mention me to your Hillsdale friends and they weren't sure who I was, you could probably say, "the girl that smokes," and they would know it was me. Smoking was a part of my identity. I wouldn't take back one conversation I had over a cigarette with friends. Hell, I met a ton of friends and even two boyfriends over cigarettes. I spent many an hour outdoors catching up with my parents while smoking. I smoked in the morning over coffee and on the weekends over a beer. I smoked at home, at work, at bars, at college, at internships, in the newspaper office, outside my sorority house. My closest friends say they feel calm when they smell cigarettes because it reminds them of me. My car reeked of it. My clothes reeked of it. My hair reeked of it. Who am I without smoking?
To be honest, I'm not really sure. The internet told me to expect a period of morning over quitting smoking. When I was preparing for this, I thought that was the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I know now it's not. Though I am gaining years of my life back, I'm losing a huge part of who I thought I was.
I was on the phone with Evan yesterday and I jokingly told him that I'm praying for the Holy Spirit to fill me and not cigarette smoke. I guess that's sort of the answer though, right? I can still make friends, have an unsuccessful dating life, call my parents and all the rest without smoking. I'm not losing the essence of Emmaline, I'm just finding a new outlet for dealing with my emotions and being social other than lighting up. So thank you for all of you who liked my post, snapchatted, texted or called me. You've told me that this new Emmaline is valuable and loved, despite not being the first one with a lighter. You've all made me stronger. So, day 3, come at me.
Monday, August 1, 2016
Emmaline has Free Time
Okay, so I stole this post title from a book by one of my favorite authors, Iris Smyles. If you haven't read anything by her, you're wrong for that, so get on it. But, I digress.
If you're my Facebook friend, at this point you know that I have gone 19.6 hours without smoking. According to my handy-dandy app, I have saved $14.36, added 4 hours to my life and not smoked 20.4 beautiful, lovely cigarettes. In other words, I feel like death.
Yes, yes I know all the health benefits. I know I will be able to afford that beautiful Madewell bag that I have been salivating over. I can smell for the first time in like three years. But none of this makes me feel that much better, honestly. Every time another person likes my Faebook post, it seems more real and more like a binding, drawn-in-blood commitment. All I want to do is walk outside, sit on my bench and inhale carcinogens.
So I am revisting my blog in both an effort to find something to do and document how bad this is so I won't go back to it. Because I wouldn't wish these feelings on my worst enemy. Or maybe I would. Depends on the enemy. It's so hard to write without a cigarette. Why, oh, why God above did you make these things so bad but so good?!?!
Okay, okay. Focus Emmaline. This is what I am going to do. I suppose unlike my previous blog posts this is more like a journal entry, which is so annoying I know. But the lack of nicotine mixing with all the caffeine in my blood is making me a little cray-cray so I'm not promising anything great from this post. Hopefully, after day 3 I'll get a little better at this again. So, here are the things I did this morning instead of smoking.
1. Lay in bed past my alarm and want a cigarette. So badly.
2. Tell Wendy, my cat, that her happiness is upsetting me because I am cranky.
3. Look at my Nicoderm patch. How do these things get so dirty over night? What was I doing, sleep walking into a mud pit?
4. OMG. I didn't even think about sleep smoking?! Is that a thing? Must google.
5. Okay. Googled sleep smoking. Nothing came up immediately, so I assume that I won't actually succumb to smoking while unconscious.
6. Look at my quit smoking app. Seeing my results does not make me feel better.
7. Drag myself out of bed and made coffee. Wow. I can actually smell coffee. How am I supposed to drink coffee without smoking? Try it. It's not that bad. Bleh.
8. Okay, time to form another insane habit. My mom bought me the life-changing magic of tidying up for Christmas and I suppose there's no time like the present to start it. Even though the present is a literal freaking hell.
9. This book is not distracting enough. I pick up my other book, Leaving the Atocha Station. Oh yeah, he's a big smoker in this book. Not now.
10. A text! Unfortunately it's from the New York government encouraging me to keep this up. It asks me when I feel like I want to smoke the most. Answer? All the time. Thanks Mayor de Blasio.
11. I am now literally starving. I refuse to get fat from quitting smoking. The interwebs informed me that this happens mainly to women. Another lovely benefit of being the fairer sex. Special K Cereal it is.
12. Okay time to primp. What music shall I play? Something fun. Train! Train always puts me in a good mood. I am now confessing this dirty little secret to the world wide web, but I feel like reading through this blog, this is not the most embarrassing thing I've ever admitted. Meet Virginia! Yes. Oh wait no, no, no. It mentions smoking. I decide to switch to ABBA. Mamma Mia is much safer.
13. I apply red, red lipstick because now smoking won't ruin it. Look at me, finding a silver lining.
14. Call my mom. Whine.
15. Call my dad. Whine.
16. Look at Wendy. Whine.
17. Chase Wendy around my apartment to try to brush her.
18. Grab my nicotine gum. Why is this stuff insanely hard to get out? The instructions are basically quantum mechanics. I cut them open. I'm an addict, remember?
19. Get horizontal on my sofa and feel bad for myself.
20. Open up computer and decide to blog.
So, you're now caught up on my first day post-cigarettes. It pretty much sucks. But my dad picking out my clothes sucks worse. I think. No, no it does! Right? Meow I hate everything.
The end. I'm too cranky to be clever.
If you're my Facebook friend, at this point you know that I have gone 19.6 hours without smoking. According to my handy-dandy app, I have saved $14.36, added 4 hours to my life and not smoked 20.4 beautiful, lovely cigarettes. In other words, I feel like death.
Yes, yes I know all the health benefits. I know I will be able to afford that beautiful Madewell bag that I have been salivating over. I can smell for the first time in like three years. But none of this makes me feel that much better, honestly. Every time another person likes my Faebook post, it seems more real and more like a binding, drawn-in-blood commitment. All I want to do is walk outside, sit on my bench and inhale carcinogens.
So I am revisting my blog in both an effort to find something to do and document how bad this is so I won't go back to it. Because I wouldn't wish these feelings on my worst enemy. Or maybe I would. Depends on the enemy. It's so hard to write without a cigarette. Why, oh, why God above did you make these things so bad but so good?!?!
Okay, okay. Focus Emmaline. This is what I am going to do. I suppose unlike my previous blog posts this is more like a journal entry, which is so annoying I know. But the lack of nicotine mixing with all the caffeine in my blood is making me a little cray-cray so I'm not promising anything great from this post. Hopefully, after day 3 I'll get a little better at this again. So, here are the things I did this morning instead of smoking.
1. Lay in bed past my alarm and want a cigarette. So badly.
2. Tell Wendy, my cat, that her happiness is upsetting me because I am cranky.
3. Look at my Nicoderm patch. How do these things get so dirty over night? What was I doing, sleep walking into a mud pit?
4. OMG. I didn't even think about sleep smoking?! Is that a thing? Must google.
5. Okay. Googled sleep smoking. Nothing came up immediately, so I assume that I won't actually succumb to smoking while unconscious.
6. Look at my quit smoking app. Seeing my results does not make me feel better.
7. Drag myself out of bed and made coffee. Wow. I can actually smell coffee. How am I supposed to drink coffee without smoking? Try it. It's not that bad. Bleh.
8. Okay, time to form another insane habit. My mom bought me the life-changing magic of tidying up for Christmas and I suppose there's no time like the present to start it. Even though the present is a literal freaking hell.
9. This book is not distracting enough. I pick up my other book, Leaving the Atocha Station. Oh yeah, he's a big smoker in this book. Not now.
10. A text! Unfortunately it's from the New York government encouraging me to keep this up. It asks me when I feel like I want to smoke the most. Answer? All the time. Thanks Mayor de Blasio.
11. I am now literally starving. I refuse to get fat from quitting smoking. The interwebs informed me that this happens mainly to women. Another lovely benefit of being the fairer sex. Special K Cereal it is.
12. Okay time to primp. What music shall I play? Something fun. Train! Train always puts me in a good mood. I am now confessing this dirty little secret to the world wide web, but I feel like reading through this blog, this is not the most embarrassing thing I've ever admitted. Meet Virginia! Yes. Oh wait no, no, no. It mentions smoking. I decide to switch to ABBA. Mamma Mia is much safer.
13. I apply red, red lipstick because now smoking won't ruin it. Look at me, finding a silver lining.
14. Call my mom. Whine.
15. Call my dad. Whine.
16. Look at Wendy. Whine.
17. Chase Wendy around my apartment to try to brush her.
18. Grab my nicotine gum. Why is this stuff insanely hard to get out? The instructions are basically quantum mechanics. I cut them open. I'm an addict, remember?
19. Get horizontal on my sofa and feel bad for myself.
20. Open up computer and decide to blog.
So, you're now caught up on my first day post-cigarettes. It pretty much sucks. But my dad picking out my clothes sucks worse. I think. No, no it does! Right? Meow I hate everything.
The end. I'm too cranky to be clever.
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