I am officially smoke-fee for 2 weeks since Easter Sunday! Yay!
There is much reason to rejoice. I have even succeeded in abstaining from cigarettes throughout an official trip to Singapore. These trips have always proved to be rather hectic and stressful and ciggies are the traditional bonding element where we get together in between to bitch about the stresses. These 5-min ciggie breaks offer a sustaining respite from the voices and faces that nags at the fibre of your sanity like nails on a chalkboard.
However I am not exceedingly proud of myself. My success is superficial. Without these "outlets of relief" I 'm wondering, where is my relief? I suspect that my strong determination not to smoke also oppresses my deep seated irritations and pressures that it's starting to affect me many different ways. You are about to watch the the materialization of the old age cliche of jumping from the saucepan into the fire.
I am standing on a precipice of a really high cliff. I can see nothing but I can jump and fall into nothingness. I can linger at the precipice and keep fighting the desire to jump down, knowing full well that there is a 'down'. Do I struggle with the existence of 'down' or succumb to it?
A storm is brewing and I'm wondering when will we see the first drizzle.....