Sexy Underpants Man has kept me strong, in his bright sparkling CKs. He hasn’t wavered in his fight against Doctor Nicotine.
So, Doctor Nicotine Dies… but his death wasn’t quick or painful enough in my view – although my expensive underwear obsessed alter-ego is quick to admonish me for thinking such things – but he doesn’t understand that it’s 6am on a Sunday and I should be snuggled up in my bed.
Week 4 and the signs are Doctor Nicotine has died. Yay! I win the day… I’ve won the fight over the dreaded cigarettes…
…or have I?
Is this just false hope? I mean, I haven’t smoked a cigarette since the 31st December, and that’s good, right?
So, why is it, I feel a foreboding sense of calm?
Do I though? Well maybe just a little bit.
It’s been interesting looking at “me” from 2 perspectives. The first (as my alter-ego) looking at me through the mirror. I’ve taken to smiling at myself each morning – it’s a little routine to remind me I’m doing well, that I’m REALLY doing well. He gives me that super-hero hands on hip smile, that nod of the head that tells me I’m doing just fine. He looks me in the eyes and he knows I haven’t slipped up, that whatever the temptations were I didn’t succumb.
I know that must sound weird – but I don’t care.
The second of these perspectives, the writing down of thoughts, inner conflicts, day-to-day mental struggles – which have diminished now, substantially – have been very useful. I now have amazing material for a character or two, but better than that, I’ve learnt something about my character. I am far, far stronger than I ever gave myself credit for.
I’m currently writing the sequel to Sir Laurence Dies. In it, I have several characters who smoke, and one who is excessive. Doctor Straay will always be a smoker, but I have other characters I can develop in such a way so that they can go through the same difficulties as me, and tell it from a realistic perspective.
So, it’s not quite a month. 4 weeks, there’s still one more week of January left. Doctor Nicotine isn’t dead, I know this, he has retreated into the depths of my soul, into the very fibre of my being, lurking, killing time. Even Sexy Underpants Man cannot predict when he will rear his ugly, alluring, yellow-stained-toothy smiling face. He’s waiting for me to screw up.
I’ve given up before and failed, but only through stupidity – only through arrogance. I can smoke the odd cigar, blah, blah, it won’t make me want to smoke. I’m stronger than that… my underwear braggart alter-ego says, with a sad shake of his head, ‘sorry, no, you weren’t.’
So will I make THAT same mistake again?
No, because I now know how susceptible I am to smoking, in any form. I won’t lie, the urge to smoke, the want to smoke, hasn’t left me. I feel it throughout the day – but – these feelings disappear very quickly now.
“Oh, I really want a cigarette rig… Oh look, a squirrel!”
Thank you, Sexy Underpants Man! You’ve saved the day again!
I will update this blog at the beginning of February, if you are interested in reading a closed room murder mystery, then why don’t you go to my website – www.cdanabbott.com – and see the links for my books!