December 28, 1999   Spent the day aggitated, constantly and perpetually. Just like the day before, and the day before that. Life these past few weeks has been a constant stream of anger and aggitation, with me so tightly wound that I'm continually exploding. Most of it stems from quitting smoking. Withdrawl is infamous for its nasty side effects and my ability to deal with that is seriously dented by the fact that I had to quit taking my anti-depressant in order to take Zyban. Withdrawl and no anti-depressant... NOT a good combination.

I knew the first weeks would be hell and have tried to remind myself of that, but the anger and haze that's filled my brain as of late has made rationality difficult. I am constantly reminding myself that this will get better, that it won't last forever, yet all the while doubting and nearly disbelieving it. And 99% of the time, I just don't realize that all these feelings - doubt, fear, anger, etc - are all a part of this process. Nearly everyone who quits goes through the same damn thing. It is common, even survivable. But it's just so hard to live through it in the meantime. I'd really like my life back, and much sooner than addiction seems willing to give it.

The 'bright side' is that I'm now done with the Zyban, which means I can resume other medications and that the awful side effects Zyban itself caused - amazingly dry skin and an acne type rash - will go away. I'm really looking forward to getting rid of this damn rash and scaley lizardlike skin.

For now, however, it is very late and the enticing call of sleep has grown too strong to resist. Not to mention there's a really scrumpcious man in my bed. Guess I forgot to mention that. One of the actual benefits of quitting smoking is the raging hormones. Why quitting smoking has made me 800 times more 'amourous' (ahem) than usual, I don't know, but that seems to be the case. Suffuce it to say that Ross isn't complaining. He's tired, but not complaining. Heh, heh.