I love smoking. For those of you who have never been a smoker, you might not understand why smoking is such a difficult habit to quit. When I started smoking, it was a social affair. I smoked on the school parking lot with my friends. I smoked because it gave me the jitters and mellowed me out all at once. I smoked outside on a bench during a frigid snowy winter storm after my first adult breakup. I smoked with Gin & Tonic in hand on my 21st birthday. I smoked after losing my virginity. I smoked at some of the best parties of my life. I met my bestest friends over cigarettes in bathrooms, and basements, and bars. I LOVED SMOKING.
Now in my mature years, well of course I know the dangers of smoking. But, I could have gotten lung cancer because I’m an asthmatic or wrinkles around my lips because I like drinking from straws. I might have developed a stomach cancer not only from the nicotine leaching out into my digestive system, but quite possibly from all the aspirin I would have taken (instead of smoking) to combat the migraines I got from annoying bosses and irritating spouses. I already had yellow teeth from antibiotics and steroids taken during infancy and I was fortunate to be obsessive about fresh breath. I LOVED SMOKING!
I quit smoking on December 15, 2014. That was easy… Then came Tuesday. I cried. I got angry. I went a tad bit mental negotiating with myself the pros and cons of buying just ONE MORE PACK… “If you just smoke one, then you’ll be able to focus and stop obsessing about the taste and the smell and the feel of that cigarette on your lips… on your fingers.” And then I really could see my addiction. I LOVE SMOKING. I LOVE SMOKING!
But I stopped smoking. I stopped buying. I stopped bumming. I stopped associating. I miss smoking. I miss that wheezy feeling smoking gave me and the way my car used to smell of cologne and tobacco. I miss angrily lighting, puffing, burning, and smooshing cigarettes when I’m pissed off. Instead, I follow my natural human instincts when I’m stressed- I run. When I’m overwhelmed with emotions- I sing. Now, instead of smoking when I’m happy and socializing with my friends- I dance.
So yeah… Call me a quitter.