Learning to Fly

Sometimes you just want to check out. I don't mean suicide or drugs or even grave depression. I mean more of the nagging feeling that everything is going wrong, you can't catch a break, you can't find your center, every smile is forced. It's not getting up on the wrong side of the bed; it's not wanting to get out of bed.

There's an old saying that goes something like this:

Sometimes the only way to learn to fly involves being pushed off a cliff.

That's the way I'm feeling these days. I so want to fly. I want to soar. I'm just not sure how. (I'm also not sure I've actually hit the edge of the cliff yet.)

Then I feel incredible guilt at the selfishness of these thoughts.

I'm not loving these extremes. Yet, I am clinging to my belief that I will fly again.

I do not recommend the combination of quitting smoking, finalizing a divorce and job hunting.

Day Six

Still not smoking! I guess it's getting easier. I feel like it is and then I have a wave of something that makes me want to rip someone's face off. So far, I have been able to control myself.

Interestingly, I am craving the nicotine less than I'm craving the habit. I guess the Chantix must be doing its job. I still have my triggers:

Getting in the car
Leaving someplace where you can't smoke
After eating, etc.

My buddy is also hanging in there. She has a lot of nervous energy and is funneling it into home improvements. In a few days, she'll have remodeled her entire home.

I'm not deceiving myself -- there are lots of hard times, cravings and temptations ahead. But I'm starting to believe I can do it this time. If you understood how down I am about where my life is, you'd understand that feeling this hope is a gift.