Nicotine Withdrawal

I quit smoking seven days ago and have nearly lost my mind.

Timing's of the essence: I did this one earth-shattering act right in time for Valentine's Day. At the same time, to ensure I wouldn't gain any weight during quitting smoking I purchased one of those miracle natural drugs extolled by the Dr. Oz show. Also, by my friend's recommendation. He used these natural pills and lost significant weight in one month, claiming no side effects.

Armed with organic pills, enduring cold turkey from smoking, I accused my boyfriend of endless hurt and pain. I'm sure he wouldn't have been the target of my nicotine withdrawal if he only gave me a gift for Valentine's Day, something I made sure he'll regret not doing to the day he dies.

Since Day #3 of quitting smoking, when the natural amphetamines from the organic pills to stave hunger fully kicked in, I tormented my girlfriends through raging and ranting for hours about said boyfriend who has committed endless hurt and pain by forgetting Valentine's Day. They regret, as well, he didn't bother getting me a Valentine's Day gift and strongly wish he did so I'd stop moaning, crying, ranting and raging.


Really, what kind of boyfriend neglects Valentine's Day in a new relationship? What kind of guy neglects getting his girlfriend a gift when she just QUIT SMOKING? Does he have a death wish? He should be thankful he lives far away.

At least he explained why he didn't: "I'm a jerk at times."

Which, in my state of fierce nicotine withdrawal, inability to sleep, wired to the nth degree and an added ingredient, constipation, doesn't give me sufficient confidence that this relationship may last six weeks until the nicotine leaves my body. Despite his reassurances to the contrary. He ignores my vitriolic text messages and scathing emails and simply texts me, FaceTime? Meaning we use our iPhones to see each other to talk. So far, the quality has beat google videochat and Skype.

He's an evil genius. For he's so mild and laid back, he diffuses my anger when we Facetime. How can I lash out at a man possessing a sweet grin who thoroughly supports me with soft humor? It's like punching a marshmallow. In a matter of seconds, he has me laughing at my own silliness and restored back to normalcy. Which evaporates an hour or more after we hang up. I can only call it a chemical imbalance, organic or not, which has me raging once again.

At least I don't miss smoking. I don't miss the taste of cigarettes or the action of smoking. Hell, I'm not even hungry, attributing my lack of appetite due to my anger about Valentine's Day more so than the organic amphetamines extolled by Dr. Oz.

I don't recall going through this the last time I quit. No, really.

For I'm what you may call a warrior smoker.

I'm the kind of person who will smoke for a year, then stop for five, pick it up for three, stop for 10. Yes. The past six years, I smoked for a year, off for a year, then did alternate months. The last time I 'quit' was a year ago and honestly, I did NOT suffer the way I'm suffering now. It was a cake walk in comparison.

What the hell did they add to those ingredients to make me want to die? I never felt this way.

All I can say is it's now four days past Valentine's Day and I'm still upset. The boyfriend spent three hours on FaceTime talking to me yesterday, calming me down, "It'll be all right. You'll see. Everything's fine with us."

The little bastard cracks up when I accuse him of ruining my world and tossing in EVIDENCE! "How do you come up with this?" he asks me, the novelist.

"You do realize this is not really me?" I stated.

"It's you, but a different side of you," he ventured. "Perhaps you should take an organic pill to get you to sleep," he recommends.

I can only blame nicotine withdrawal that has my mind in such a fog. Okay, I'm wired to explode from organic amphetamines. Like Groundhog Day, I keep returning to the fact that he didn't do jack shit on Valentine's Day.

This may be for the best. Perhaps I should market this as the greatest diversionary tactic around. Because I'm so focused and absorbed on the pain, rage, hurt, disappointment from the boyfriend that I don't want to smoke. Making it the furthest thought from my mind. Replaced by the rallying cry of REDRUM.

As they say, every dog gets their day. My boyfriend's going the ecigarette route, but something tells me I may receive in the not-so-distant future quite a few strange emails about how I ruined his life. He's a great believer in quid pro quo.

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