Wrapped In The Coils

I don’t think it’s simply the absence of smoke pollution, in my lungs and bloodstream, that’s making me so tetchy but, how I long for a cigarette. It doesn’t really seem like craving, more like good and pure lust and, I realize that cigarettes alone are not a recipe for salvation. The words that proceed from my mouth are not always that pleasant as I struggle against an extremely potent stress factor. It is hard to determine whether physical frailty or emotional instability is the root of this stress.

I have literally, albeit intermittently, been going weak at the knees these past few days; it’s almost as if a fractionally harder sneeze, these involuntary expirations have been quite prominent of late, would knock me totally off balance. My sleep pattern has become increasingly erratic (since I interrupted my tobacco input); perhaps the nicotine patches are really bad for me and, it’s the other ingested toxins that cigarettes supply that my body needs!

Another thought, that occurred today, is that on this attempt to ‘quit’ I was encouraged to plan ahead. Anyone who knows me well can vouch for the fact that, planning and Malcolm do not make for the best of bedfellows! For me, spontaneity is of the essence; problem is, and has been for the past couple of years, my lack of the necessary stamina to be spontaneous! Waiting to see how one feels at a given time paradoxically (or is it) precludes spontaneity … one can only be spontaneous when energy reserves permit it; the waiting game, to see whether emotional and physical resources are up to the task, is far too organized.

Life at the moment is very much a matter of pacing myself, in the hope that I can ‘save’ sufficient energy to become productive once more. The Protestant Work Ethic, once again, wraps it’s reptilian ‘coils’ around me and, I gasp for air.