I have a tendency to stop talking when I don't feel heard.

I got on the subject of wanting to quit smoking in Wednesday's therapy appointment. My therapist told me about a quit drug called Chantix. I told him how a relative of mine took Chantix, quit smoking, and then went and hung himself out back in the shed. Then the therapist went on to tell me more about Chantix. Then I told him cold turkey has worked the best in the past, but smoking seems to stun my brain and past quits have brought up issues with terrifying and partial recall of dissociated material that I don't know how to handle alone. He told me more about Chantix. I LOVE talking to the wall. I fucking LIVE for it. (Here is where I make the jack-off motion with my hand. You people miss SO MUCH in not being able to see me when I'm on a bitter and sarcastic rant. I swear I must have some Italian blood in me somewhere.) In the end, when it sunk in that I was not interested in the drug, he relented only to tell me that as much as I don't want to hear it, the present moment is the medicine to cure what ails me. I'm begining to think I'm whipping a dead horse. I don't know what else to do to be understood. Words are all I have.

I ran out of smokes Thursday morning and declined to buy more. There was a lot of anxiety. It was there before that, but quitting ramped it up a little bit. I had a couple of panic attacks in my sleep. I took a half of an anxiety pill. Even though I have a VERY impressive stockpile, I don't like taking them and I almost never do. I need them ALL in case I ever become deathly ill since I can't visit doctors anymore because I can't get past the medical trauma stuff. In spite of all of that, I thought I was handling things well during the quit attempt (because I was so dissociated in response to the bullshit). Long story short (it has to be short - the long version was sucked up into the ether as it was happening) - it all seemed to break down Saturday when I caved.

Saturday I sat down to fix my tax issue. This may take a while. Seems the I R Ass doesn't let people change the filing status in the way I need to if the deadline has already passed. They don't want people to be able to stop them from stealing if they are late in discovering the evil intentions toward those who mistakenly decide that the government has a benevolent attitude toward the concept of marital togetherness in the financial arena. I had to actually pull up the amendment form to find that out about changing the status. It was not revealed in the preliminary search for info. I will be calling the tax payer advocacy service Tuesday. This is really very ridiculous. And sad.

Let this be a lesson to me to trust my instincts. I had always filed separately until I started to get guilt tripped from various societal factions about 'what a marriage is about'. You know this feeds my anti-social paranoia, right? That was another topic in therapy. My therapist learned some strange facts about me on Wednesday. Things that he has never known in the three plus years I have been with him.

1. I am still a registered republican and listened to my instincts not to change that.

2. Hypochondriacs should not smoke, but if they do, raises in sin taxes might piss them off enough to make them quit.

3. I used to serve on the local republican executive committee until I resigned after the birth of my youngest daughter.

4. Though I am not a big gun fan in real life, me and my mental shotgun used to donate time and financial support to our local 2nd amendment club. Because I want the freedom to change my mind. You know - right before I move my family to Montana to live in a bunker.

5. I worry about civil war and the collapse of civilization. Only the fittest will survive. I really should quit smoking.



I think I'm going to have a cigarette and go to bed.

And, for old time's sake, let's not comment about the cigs. Let's pretend they are the terror of trauma memories and we're not supposed to mention them because no one can really help us handle it without throwing drugs or the present moment at us when the going gets tough and upsetting. We wouldn't want to upset anyone. That would be so... not the present moment. (And present moment fanatics, please line up to lick my pits - and have I mentioned that I don't wear deodorant because it's unhealthy? Whut. It won't be so bad. My sweat smells like chicken noodle soup. It does - I swear it.) Please excuse me while I go vomit and please leave a comment about the weather. Seriously. The weather. Because everyone knows that even the most distressing of neuroses and addictions are more acceptable than seeing, feeling, and (gawd forbid) sharing the full horror of the truth with another human being when you can't bear it without help.