Hello. Long time. This seemed like an appropriate place to say this, so firing away.
I'm two months away from being quit 7 years, and may I freely admit that this emotions thing, friends, is still a MAHOOSIVE issue. Smoking however is not. I am never going to smoke again, this I know. And I wish I could take that thought, extract it, and inject it into the brain of everyone who is new at this quitting thing, everyone who is climbing walls and screaming at their friends and family and alienating even the family dog and desperately eyeing the 7-11 on a drive by thinking 'justonejustoneifIjusthaveoneitwillallend...' Yes, it will. It will all end. So don't. Take this thought, virtually inject it into your old bean and hang on.
Hang on.
I have determined over the past few days that it is only because I was able to find an outlet for dealing with the emotions that cropped up in the early days that I have been able to quit smoking and to stay quit. For me, that outlet was exercise, fast and furious, slow and steady, however I could get it. For you, it may be jigsaw puzzles. Or underwater basket weaving. Or scrubbing the bathtub. Find that outlet and love it. Take it on a date. Buy it a diamond ring and a six pack of Bud. Marry it and drink it in.
The emotion thing rages on in my life because quite simply my life rages on. If I were to believe I may have been a particularly rotten egg in a previous live to be dealt some of the blows in this one...well, what am I saying 'if'? I clearly was a right cow.
In February 2012 I had meant to come back and joyously celebrate the birth of our first child and say 'yes that is one of the reasons I quit! I'm elated! Life is perfect now!' I had meant to come back and say those things, but when our son was born with Down's syndrome and the doctors scared the bejeezus out of us with their astonishingly low expectations and the rest of the family began behaving as if my husband and I weren't able to raise him properly, that we needed help and he needed fixing (read: therapy) by 'professionals', well, I didn't think it was a good time to come back. What we did to deserve such little family support when we most needed it? Only the big guy upstairs knows that one, but it has lit an inferno in me.
But I haven't smoked.
Today, my son remains my light and my life. He is healthy and strong and so mildly affected by this condition that although concerned for what his future will hold, we are no longer afraid.
As a smoker I could not have handled this unexpected scenario. I could not have been strong enough to understand that the cards we are dealt have been dealt for a purpose. That purpose may be because we have been a rotten cow in a previous life. Or that purpose may be because there is something we are missing and we are needing to learn. The stress of being gestational diabetic and the condescending medical bods all around us before his birth didn't help ease us in to this new and amazing life.
Yet all that stress and I didn't smoke. I didn't feel any need whatsoever.
Late last year, my father fell ill with what they thought was pneumoia and was later diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. We raced home for a last family Thanksgiving because we didn't know how much time was left. He saw his grandson thriving and that lifted me more than any Marlboro ever did. He chain smoked for another three months and on my last solo visit as he was under hospice care from two of the most amazing people I have ever had the privilege to meet, he passed away in his recliner - an old brown corduroy job, liberally peppered with burn holes - precisely one hour before I left his apartment to fly back home. For reasons I won't include here, my only brother and I are now irreparably estranged.
And I didn't smoke. I won't ever smoke again. I have seen what it does. Dad once was a big scary man. He died a frail, scared man. From smoking.
What I did do since I quit smoking is to train for, and run a 10k to raise money for cancer research, in memory of my Pop. I am still no runner, in fact, I've still got a pretty good overuse hip injury, but that there was the most important thing I've ever done. And I suspect anyone reading this will perfectly understand why.
What I did do was find my voice. And I have a BIG mouth. I was bullied back in the day and now with nothing to quash my anger, fear, irritation, whathaveyou, I speak up and I speak out. It is causing a problem in the family. Yet I will not go quietly. I will not be walked upon. And I will not smoke.
And nor should you.
Hang on.
x T
Quit Meter
$45,735.00
Amount Saved
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Days: 1094 Hours: 12
Minutes: 19 Seconds: 59
Life Gained
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6098
Smoke Free Days
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182,940
Cigarettes Not Smoked
Quit Meter
$45,735.00
Amount Saved
Quit Meter
Days: 1094 Hours: 12
Minutes: 19 Seconds: 59
Life Gained
Quit Meter
6098
Smoke Free Days
Quit Meter
182,940
Cigarettes Not Smoked
Quit Meter
$45,735.00
Amount Saved
Quit Meter
Days: 1094 Hours: 12
Minutes: 19 Seconds: 59
Life Gained
Quit Meter
6098
Smoke Free Days
Quit Meter
182,940
Cigarettes Not Smoked
Quit Meter
$58,938.00
Amount Saved
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Days: 1167 Hours: 6
Minutes: 6 Seconds: 27
Life Gained
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5358
Smoke Free Days
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117,876
Cigarettes Not Smoked
