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.

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.