My blog has been extremely frugal in recent months – and … – Sydsvenskan

Butts

My blog has been extremely frugal in recent months – and this will be the totalizing last.
So how has it really been? And what has actually happened?
Until the mid Hun (I hope, when I actually put a considerable strain on the life detention measures) on my living hiking stubbed me.
(Here it should read that I decided putting out – but there would be no truthful description. I had said that I would quit smoking, cocky proposed a blog and got me Lisa and Anette on the train – but when it was time, I stood there secretly with his pants down, shamefully unprepared and not as definite as I should have been.)
Then it happened all the obvious. The infernal. Abstinence. Cold sweat. Concentration difficulties. Wrath outbreaks. The urge that threatened to drag us down into the underworld. We fought and was horrified. I did everything that I had been classified as okay and everything that I had been classified as not okay on my list. After a few painful eternity long weeks catapulted we step up into the funnel. Into purgatory and into a reality for me has been in many ways more difficult to relate to than the pure hell. For everything became gray. I ended up in the crippling gray area, whose name is Without.
Something like this: Imagine that you have forced yourself to a necessary and finally, yet in many ways ill and reluctantly, abrupt dismissal. The acute grief, the raging loss is now over, the void is a fact. You want to go (read: escape) on – but where? No adventure shimmers enticing further down the road, no new mountains to climb towers with self-evident on the horizon. That’s when you fully realize that you left really has no substitute in the material world. You should live your life is not “without A but B”, but simply “not A”. That is, in our case, but one little puff (and without anything that can replace it).
Ask me know how I have been able to make i t, indecisive as I was (and sometimes still is). But I regret to fit on it. The truth is I do not know.
What I do know is that during the Christmas and New Year, I have at times been violent craving. Before the New Year’s party at a colleague, I tried desperately to change to me one evening röktillstånd the bubble peak and driving (E ordered a taxi). (Maybe it was the defeat that made me a bit into the evening loudly proclaiming that I, now richer (after countless attempts to replace cig with sweet), but also the nature of the (smoke) free, indeed thought to deliver my first New Year’s resolution: to lose eight kilograms (and thus leave 2015 as narrow as I was completing nursing 35 years old). Thankfully I had time to take back well before midnight.)
I also know that fighting the urge to smoke is a war that must continue to be fought. Three months is over, but for me it is not over. Maybe it’s never over. Remains to get through purgatory and u ntil those green meadows (and maybe jump of a few pounds in the process?).
I know that despite all my whining, despite all our tribulations – genomlidna, present and future – we have been through, we have did , anything, indeed, amazing.
Three of three travelers have actually put out, without a relapse – a one hundred percent success as well, none of us deep down thought of when we set out on our perilous journey.
We have extended our lives and reduced the risk of dying a horrible premature death. And I know that we are moving towards even better times. Believe me. Soon, soon it will be spring.