OK, long story – bear with me.
Hit Day 1 of my Champix quit a week ago Monday. Made it through to Day 6 – the Saturday – without undue problems, other than that empty, distant, ‘hungry’ feeling that’s little to do with the nicotine addiction and much more to do with the things Allen Carr talks about. From that point of view, the Champix was very effective.
Saturday evening, I broke. I don’t really know why. Perhaps because Saturday evening has historically been a real ‘smoke-athon’. An hour down the pub (3 cigarettes), making dinner (a cigarette with a glass of wine), sitting talking, drinking wine, watching MotD (4-5 cigarettes). If only my son hadn’t had a pack of cigarettes in the drawer…
Still had some cigarettes left Sunday and decided to smoke them. Agonised all day about whether I’d restart the quit or just admit I wasn’t going to be able to do it. Failed to reach a conclusion, so bought a packet of ten. Smoked about half what I’d usually smoke on a Sunday.
Reached a compromise with myself. I wouldn’t smoke at work on the Monday (partially, ironically, because there’s a woman there who I’m trying to help in quitting and I wanted to appear strong). That worked fine – the Champix really does work a treat. Smoked 4-5 during the evening, even though I knew I didn’t really want them. How stupid.
Same again today – the Champix working even better (probably because I was much busier at work). Had a cigarette before I went to work, and this evening looks like it’ll be the same 4-5.
I don’t know where I go from here. I’m so confused. I’m annoyed with myself – but I don’t want to be annoyed with myself. I hate myself – and hate myself for hating myself. It’s really marginal with me right now. Stupidly, stupidly, the Champix means I definitely don’t need to smoke – but I still want to smoke, even though the cigarettes are doing very little for me in terms of ‘satisfaction’.
And my wife and I are going for a rare weekend away on Friday, and I’m struggling to imagine enjoying that without smoking. Fine – start the quit again when I get back. Except that a week later, I go on a business trip to Frankfurt. In many ways, that’d be a good opportunity (long periods in airports, flights, holed up in a conference centre all day) but I’m not sure…
It’s going over and over in my mind. I don’t want to smoke. I want to smoke. It’s got to the silly point where I’m saying to myself “My motivation was my mother’s COPD, and how I don’t want to end up having my quality of life compromised like that” – and answering myself “but look at your dad – he gave up smoking thirty years before he died a protracted, agonising death of cancer”.
I’m not sure there’s anything any of you wonderful people can say to me, as I think I have to work this out myself. Rest assured, though, I’ll study anything you tell me very closely to see if I can fathom a way out of this.
Thanks for reading.