I Am Addicted

(Read that post title to the tune John Bunyan’s “To Be A Pilgrim” – not that it has a bloody thing to do with this post)

Just over three weeks ago I went to the Doctors to keep a self made promise I made to my Mum. I am the kind of person who likes to try and keep his promises where ever possible, but sometimes I over egg the pudding, and occasionally I let my gob get in the way of common sense and offer more than I can deliver. This is one of those time, folks.

They'll Kill ya Folks

They’ll Kill ya Folks

Without airing everyone’s granny pants to the world, its’ time for me to give up smoking for the benefit of everyone in the household. To be supportive to Mum who has had to give up over night and has done it cold turkey and has been smoke free for close to 100 days,. For me health wise, I am getting no younger and with that natural health problems are just hastened on with adding cigarettes to the mix. Then there is the financial side to the whole thing,, it’s bloody expensive.

Anyway, back to the start of two paragraphs ago.. I went to the Doctors with one very set thing in mind, to get help off of the Cigarettes. I knew from historic conversations with Healthcare Professionals that certain medications are not right for people with Mental Health illnesses, so I assumed¹ that I wouldn’t even be offered those.

I went into the Doctors office, explained why I was there and within a very few short minutes I was leaving his office with a two week supply of the very drug I had spent 13 years being told I couldn’t have because I had the “mentals”. The Doctor, claimed that he had had patients take the drug before without problems, and that there were no contra indications with other drugs on my chart. I ALWAYS look at the screen when he goes through this and I read that there were issues with Mental Health, but you know, you trust your Doctor, and I have a trust (or did) in this one.. it’s taken a while, but I do have some.

I come home, give it a couple of days, and then I start taking the pills. (Champix in case you were wondering). After two days of taking the pills I start to notice subtle changes in my environment. It is VERY subtle, prickly things, it didn’t help that I started taking them during the hottest days of the year so far, so I was a grumpy idiot anyway. Day 3 rolled around and my Cigarettes started to taste bad and that didn’t improved my mood, but the offishness was increasing too. From this point on nothing got better. I was decreasing the amount I smoked, which was the desired goal, and I knew that my feelings of depression were related to a withdrawal side effect, I knew what that felt like this felt like something totally different, something Mental Health related.

I have been in enough depressive funks to know when one is starting and that is what was happening. I knew the it was a possibility with Champix. It’s a know side effect, so I hung in there. I didn’t want to let my family down. Side effects wear off once the drug gets into your system… right?


After 9 days I was in such a depressive state I was finding any excuse I could to go back to bed for as long as I could during the day just so I didn’t hurt anyone. I mean physically or emotionally. It took every ounce of willpower I DIDN’T have to not go outside and beat my hands bloody just to relieve some of the built up tension that had grown inside me.

After I had taken the Sunday nights pills and thought to myself “Why had I put myself through this yet again?” Not knowing what would happen to my mental state in the morning. I finally spoke to my family I told them just how bad it had got. I apologised to them for giving up and not being able to follow through on my promise. I got the usual

“Silly Bugger”
“You don’t need to apologise”
“You’re health is more important”

Comments after I had finished talking, From Monday morning I stopped taking them and I started the subliminal agony of getting them out of my system. I call it subliminal agony because, when you are taking the pills and are depressed you have some idea why you are depressed and can pin point a reason, but when you aren’t taking them and don’t feel and relief each day, it is agonising and you get the feeling that you have slipped back permanently into a depression that is going to end you back into a face to face with a doctor who likes to crack skulls.

Over the past week or so through the hardest parts of getting the medication out of my stem I have had to keep myself busy and out of my own head for as much as possible, I haven’t been able to write. It would have been the worlds worst Edgar Alan Poe Fan Fiction. I found solace and companionship in classic Doctor Who shows. I delved into old Black and White episode sthat I had only given a passing glance at previously. This time round I watched intently and watched the DVD extras too, to learn about the backgrounds to the stories. It passed the days away and took my mind away from the hatred that was building and ebbing.

They kept me a little less sane

They kept me a little less sane

Now, almost a a full week after having taken the last dose of the medication, I feel a lot better than I did. No where near as well as I did before taking it, I was balanced the, but at least now I feel that I am not being eaten by the Black Dog of depression any more and I don’t feel like my family is at any imminent harm of being around me,  Small mercy’s I guess,

Until next time…

¹ Remember that Italicised assume… it WILL make and Ass out of You & Me – mostly me

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Paul Hurwood

Paul is a frustrated entertainer. From a young age he wanted to be Elvis Presley, but Elvis objected to lending out his Jumpsuits at the weekend. As he grew older he tried to be an Actor, things there didn’t go so well either… the spotlights kept missing him.

Now Paul enjoys sitting back and writing about Music, Doctor Who and Mental Health. He has a passion for the blogging platform WordPress and enjoys helping out practically with day to day use of the platform where he can.