1) They just hiked up the price again, so now they are $8 a pack. I smoke a little more than a pack a day, so we're looking at a bit over $300 a month. Spent on slowly killing myself. As I thought about the larger number, I realized there is NOTHING, save rent and feeding both of us, that I would so willingly dump $300 each month on. In fact, I don't even think I spend that much on food. But there it is, $300 getting flushed down the toilet on something that is doing terrible things to my body. And teaching my son an awful habit. Pretty damn absurd when you look at it, no?
2) OK, so I'm not quitting for the boy, but his presence did make something click. Obviously, Jesse doesn't smoke (ya know, purity of body and all that monk stuff). Now, he was emphatic that he really didn't care if I did, but being considerate, it bothered me. So when he was visiting, every time I smoked I'd stand away from him, waving my cigarette fumes in the other direction, etc. Much like I do with kiddo (for those of you who don't realize, I never EVER smoke in my home because of my son, and generally keep it as far away from him as possible). And because there may or may not have been kissing involved, I was pretty much constantly shoveling breath mints into my face so as not to dragon-breath the poor man. When he left, it dawned on me that I had a disgusting habit. I mean, I knew it was gross, but to be sitting there feeling so much shame in this horrible addiction that I am expending a ton of energy to keep it away from someone...well, it really sunk in.
In the past few months, I have transformed a lot of aspects of myself that I didn't like. Why the hell hadn't I changed this? I've overcome monumental self-improvements regarding things I didn't like about myself...shouldn't this be on that list?
So, Saturday, I walked into my usual smoke shop and asked for my usual 2 packs (I prefer to buy every other day, for some reason it makes me feel better about it). As I swiped my card and saw I was signing away $16, both reasons 1 and 2 smacked me in the head. I told myself right then "These are the last ones. We're fucking done".
Monday morning I puffed through the last one, and dug out my box of patches. Yea, I know, I've tried this before. I feel really good about this one tho.
- Cost is a big factor now. More than ever, I have to trim this budget. $300...just no fucking way. I believe that even if I come close to failing, the sticker shock will prevent me from actually buying another pack.
- I'm not quitting with someone this time, it's allllll me. Before in my attempts, it was always me and Scott (and once with my ex husband). Each time...we'd both topple simultaneously. But I'm the only one that can be let down. And at this stage in my life, I am not about to let myself down ever again.
- I've proven the strength of my own amazing willpower recently. I lost 20 lbs, and go to the gym almost every day. I've done this over a period of months, and feel pretty amazing about that.
- This was my one "bad" thing. I mean, I don't really drink all that often, and when I do it's not to excess by any means. I've never done a drug in my life, and I am pretty damn happy keeping it that way (I like my brain just the way it is, I have never had a need to chemically or "herbally" alter it, thank you very damn much. And we all know about marijuana). But as all these other things prove, I don't need a vice. I'm great on my own, why hang onto this one?
- I finally got my son involved. I've told him lately that smoking is bad and awful, and it's not a good thing at ALL that mommy does it. So when I told him I was quitting, it actually meant something to him. He seemed very happy, and I told him that if he ever thought mommy was about to pick up a cigarette, to tell me not to. My son guilting me is a powerful thing! Two days ago he thought I was about to pick up a cigarette (I used to keep them on the TV cabinet, and I was over by there fiddling with something else), and he ran up, grabbed my hand, and cried "Mommy!! Don't Smoke!!". I'm tellin' ya, if that doesn't make you stop dead in your tracks, you don't have a soul.
So...there we go. The last cigarette was smoked on Monday morning. Jesse had given me a great pointer on it (he knows a thing or two about quitting). He told me to keep the empty, and write the date and time of my last one on it. Every time I felt the urge, I would look at it and realize how long I'd come without one. I don't think he realized how much of an impact this would make, mainly because he doesn't quite know yet how incredibly stubborn I am. The few times I was feeling weak and needed to stare at the pack, the stubborn side kicked in, because I all out refused to have to change that damn date. I adamantly got through the craving, because I am too stubborn to cross something out that I put down with conviction.
If you are in my kitchen, look over and see on the counter a somewhat torn empty pack of cigarettes, with "5/3/10 11AM" written in pink sharpee across the front. And if that's scratched out and a different date is written on there, feel free to kick my ass. But I don't think you will, because I refuse to let myself down this time. I've come too damn far to stop now!!
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