This is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. It is physically painful. Even more difficult than writing a book. I want to smoke. I want to cave sooo bad! I want to inhale that nerve calming toxin and say screw it to everything else. I am only four days in and I am is the crappiest mood since I was an angst-filled teen.
Who needs clean lungs? Not me!
Who wants to be a good role model for their daughter? Overrated!
Well then, how about I will smell and my fingers will be yellow and I will get lots of wrinkles. I have never been about appearance anyway!
Okay, cheap shot. Do you want to end up like your mother?
Screw you conscience!
And just like that my willpower has tripled and I will not be caving anytime soon.
My mother smoked over a pack a day. She smoked when she was pregnant, she smoked in the house with the doors and windows closed. When I started smoking at 14 she gave me a carton of cigerettes in my Christmas stocking for years. My sister had premature lungs when she was born and loads of medical problems growing up. My mom died of lung, stomach, throat and gum cancer two days after her 49 birthday. She didn’t make it to 50. She barely seen my sister graduate high school. She didn’t see me get married or see her only grandchild being born. She will not be seeing any other milestones ever again.
No, I do not want to end up like her.
So I will not be smoking ever again.
It is a bit of an abstract concept for me. I can’t see the damage it does so I can pretend it doesn’t exist and go on slowly killing myself in ignorant bliss.
It was bliss. For a while.
But then all the bad things start digging into my brain and fighting for a place in the spotlight. And there were a lot of bad things about smoking. Like how I couldn’t ever smell or taste anything. I mean anything poeple. It all tasted like ash.
I smelled terrible, and my clothes did too. My daughter and dad would remind me faithfully. Who wants to hang out with a smoke bomb?
I would get very irritable if I didn’t get one. Picture the sweet princess politely asking for a smoke and when she didn’t get it, her nose would elongate, turning all warty and pea green. Her nails would lengthen and sharpen to razor points and her innocent, guiless eyes would turn beady and narrow.
Yeah. Just like that. There was lots of yelling involved.
I didn’t smoke in front of my daughter. In fact, I went through great lengths to make sure she never knew.
How insane is that? I would hide from her behind the house and ask my husband to cover for me cause I just needed a minute.
I was always tired and didn’t have any motivation. None. Wanna play a board game mom? No thanks, I need to go outside for a moment. It was shameful.
Well, now I am smoke free and I feel like I am on crack. Not that I actually know what that’s like. But it is so different from my status quo that I don’t know how to deal.
It’s feels like my thoughts are all over the place and I can’t concentrate on one thing for very long. Like I am temporary bi-polar. Then I focus intently and clean my house happily. That never happens.
I spent the day with my daughter yesterday and I didn’t get irritated with her nearly as often. (Come on, I did a few times. I am no saint.)
That’s a good thing right? Except the withdrawals. Damn the withdrawals!
I hate everything! All people make me angry when they talk. Not even to me, just when they talk in general. I am snarky and have a bad attitude. And you know what? I can’t even bring myself to care. I have already advised my boss it’s gonna be tricky this week. He is totally understanding. Which just goes to show I am an ungrateful little shit right?
My husband, my poor poor husband. I am not gonna even go there. Except to say he quit too.
But this too shall pass right?
It better, or I may get arrested for frothing at the mouth in public, garbling unintelligable things at strangers. I am sure it’s illegal somewhere. Come to think of it, it’s probably normal where I work by Jack London Square.
No, no , no I will not think like that. I can do this. I can beat this. I have too. There is no try in this instance. And while I usually am not that competitve and trying is the best I ask of others, for me it is not enough. I will break this cycle, my daughter will not have to see me slowly deteriorate into a giant lump of cancer. I will be able to run with my grandkids and see then be born and grow. Something my mom will never get to do.
I will not end up like that.