Giving Up Everything

I slept horribly.  No cigarettes since yesterday morning before the doctor’s appointment.

The trouble I have with nicotine withdrawal is night terrors. They are indescribably terrifying.

Twenty minutes after falling asleep I wake with a scare that is at once the worst depression you can imagine, where you wish you were dead, coupled with the excruciating fear that you are, in fact, dead.
I can’t breathe,
my heart is pounding,
I am paralysed,
I am freezing cold,
I am burning up,
the world is ending
and it’s all my fault,
nothing can be saved,
least of all me
– and I wake up with a screaming shudder.
Nothing logical about night terrors, which is why they are so terrifying.

In the past the night terrors have driven me to get up and have just a puff or two on a cigarette.  I’m sure you can see that is why I never really manage to give up.

But not this time!

This time I am giving up EVERYTHING – tobacco, sugar, wheat, salt, coffee, alcohol, and over-eating, all at the same time, so I have decided not to use any nicotine substitutes. I want to do everything I can to lower my blood pressure before the dreaded 24 hour monitoring in 11 days time.

The doctor asked me yesterday how much I weighed and I vaguely answered “about a hundred kilos”.  Kindly, she didn’t ask me to hop on the scales to confirm it, but I think the truth  is more likely  to be anywhere from 105 to 110.

Ok, well that’s just embarrassing.

But I am not buying scales.  Too  many sets of scales have been kicked across my bedroom and bathroom floors over the years; I know they depress me and demoralise me. I will lose weight, but I don’t think weighing myself will help.

I’m going for an 800 calorie a day diet, mainly because I know I won’t achieve that, but by aiming for I  will possibly achieve 1,200 to 1,500.

Fruit or muesli or sugar free yoghurt for breakfast; salad with cheese or a poached egg for lunch; fish and salad for dinner; almonds for snacks.

Except it’s not.
And I am totally distracted from any hope of working due to my constant craving for a ciggie!

I go for a walk.

I shake as I walk around the park on the next block.  My legs wobble and the ground feels like the deck of a ship, bucking and swaying. My knees hurt and there is a sharp pain in my right hip.

I had intended to start easy with a gentle 20 minute walk.  In less than 5 minutes I am home, feeling nauseous.

I sit down at the dining table and pray.

“Oh God, help me!
Heal me!
I know you love me, so heal me, please!”

But this is all wrong.

It’s not God’s  fault I am in this mess.  He  is certainly there to help me, but the responsibility is mine; I got myself into this and I must get myself out.

My prayer changes:

“Dear God, you gave me this precious vessel for my soul and I have treated is with no respect.
I am so sorry!
Please help me and guide me on my journey to restore it to health as a vessel fit for your service
– Amen”

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