Diagnosis: Batshit Insane

I’ve got all kinds of diagnoses for myself. Narcissism, from my father’s side. Potential pre-schizophrenia from my mother’s side (it runs in the family, my maternal uncle and grandmother had it). Aspergers, which is a possibility since my sister has it, and I have some tendencies of high-functioning autism. Depression, anxiety, ADHD, these diagnosed by real doctors in the past but so long ago I don’t know if it’s just them any more.
Could I be some or all of these things at once? Or none of them? Who knows. Maybe *gasp* an actual psych would know. That is, if I could find a *special* one, who can deal with my *special* problems. /s

I’ve got a really special problem I’m dealing with as of today. I’m quitting smoking cigarettes. Cold turkey. Yes, I have partaken in this filthy habit for about 2-3 years now. Waaay too long, but I love it so. I love a buzz in the morning and it makes me not want to fill my gaping maw with food. It appeals to the way I already don’t fit in. I’m totally cool and edgy and rebelling against a shitty world. I actually like that people dislike it. People already dislike me, so as a smoker I feel like I’m part of some outcast club and other smokers are my bros. All of which is completely stupid. It’s like I’m mentally half my age, and I’m dangerously close to 30. Oh well. As I told a friend, if realizing things about yourself made you easily and completely stop doing that stuff, I’d be a Buddha already.

So it’s day one of stopping smoking. Hell, it’s two hours into my day without smoking. Oh boy, this is going to be fun. This blog will help to keep me sane, because I know I am going to be pissy and depressed for the next few days.

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