The shots in the dark from empty guns are never heard by anyone.

I feel myself slipping today. The one person I can't face being alone with is myself. And I hate that. Because I love myself, I do, but at the same time I really can't stand myself. Some days, like today, I can't stand being in my own skin.

The worst part of it is, I can't run from myself. Everywhere I go, there I am. I don't want things to be this way but I don't know how to change. This is part of the reason why I was so afraid to quit - without marijuana I have to face myself and all of my insecurities, doubts, fears, self-hatred. And I want to love myself, I really do. I want to be able to look in the mirror and honestly say that I accept the person staring back at me.

But then again who knows, this could just be withdrawal. I guess this is why people with a predisposition towards depression should avoid self-medicating. I need to keep telling myself, and this too shall pass.

And this too shall pass...

I don't intend to turn this into an addiction recovery journal, but it may have to be, at least for however long it takes for this to pass.

It's not as bad as it could be and I know that I have the hypnotherapy to thank for that. I haven't even had any REAL cravings, just frustration at the lack of appetite, insomnia and the hot flashes.

But as far as wanting to be high? That feeling has yet to rear its ugly head and I hope it stays that way. There is an emptiness to be sure, something missing. It's a lot like breaking up with someone you KNOW is wrong for you but who you've been with for so long you can't remember who you were before. I come home and I'm not sure what to do with myself even though I have plenty to do.

Sigh.

Yeah, well I can't get myself to go away.

Well. I did it. I quit. For good. I hope.

I'm sad to say I feel as though I've lost a very dear friend. I've lost the thing that I turn to when I am lonely.

I didn't go into work today because of an eye doctor appointment this morning but when I got home I didn't know what to do with myself. The apartment felt very empty. The space on my desk where my smoking equipment sat called to me, but there was nothing there. Nothing to fill the emptiness and no one to talk to. Nothing to numb the pain of this hole inside me.

I'm starting to realize now that part of the reason I loved weed so much was because it made it so I never had to be alone with myself. There was always this smokescreen (as my hypnotherapist would say) between me and myself. But I have to face myself now. I have no excuses anymore and nothing to hide behind.

This is me. Laid bear for all the world to see. And I have to learn to really love myself.