It's been a little more than seven months since I fell off of the nicotine wagon. Instead of chasing it down the road, I decided to stay where I landed for a little while, and savor every carcinogenic puff. I knew then that it would only be a matter of time until I'd quit again. Blowing six years and five days of tobacco sobriety down the toilet was an absolutely conscious decision. I had a choice, and I opted not to get in the driver's seat and run a bitch over. I know, right? Stupidity reared it's ugly head that day. But believe me, I've learned my lesson. I realize that my life is far more valuable than anyone else's, and next time, I'ma just hit the gas instead.
I originally started smoking when I was fifteen. Again, stupidity. But this time it was in the form of a boyfriend who I thought I was head over heels for at the time. He smoked, a lot. As a matter of fact, so did everyone I hung out. But he was the deciding factor for me. I thought that if I smoked, he'd (oh my fucking God I can not believe I am admitting to this) like me more. Turns out, it didn't work. We broke up not long after that, but I was ultimately stuck in a dead end relationship with the Marlboro Man.
Nine years later, I lost my mom to lung cancer. I'm just being honest when I say that even seeing her tumor on the MRI scan wasn't enough to deter me. Nor was knowing that her father also died of the same disease, or having her oncologist confirm that there is in fact a genetic component to it. In the end, it was my own personal desire to stop smelling like a human ashtray. I hated the example I was setting for my kids. I also loathed the loss of income, the extra cleaning at the dentist every year, and the eventuality that I would end up looking like Ed Asner before I turned forty. Sometimes, vanity can be a good thing.
So, I bit the bullet and spent a small fortune on patches and gum. And it worked. Within two months, I was clean from both crutches as well as my dirty little habit. After four months, the emphysema-ish cough ceased. And after six, I noticed an increase in physical energy. But it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Every single day, for six years, I continued to crave. Every single day, for six years, I thought about smoking. At least once. On bad days, I'd follow MFH outback just to inhale the second hand smoke from his cigarette. And I'm not even going to lie to you, the weight gain was unexpected. I knew I'd gain something and that was okay. Give and take, ya know? I just didn't think it would happen so quickly. And forty extra pounds when you're only five feet tall is difficult to ignore. But it was a small price to pay, and I learned to deal.
A few days ago, I began to feel that familiar desire to quit again, and I welcomed it. It's what I've been waiting for. It's so true, how the experts say you have to want to. The idea alone isn't gonna to do shit for ya. And so tomorrow, because it also helps to choose the day, I'm flagging down that wagon once again. This time, I'm buckling my seat belt.
**For more information about smoking cessation go to www.whyquit.com**
share on: facebook
No comments:
Post a Comment