Well, this morning I was running out of my bedroom to get to work on time, and grabbed a pack of smokes from one of my cartons on the way. Both of them are lined up together at my door, so I don’t forget. All of a sudden, I thought “The fact that I smoke that many packs in a two week period is absolutely disgusting.”
See, before, at one pack at a time in my possession, it didn’t look too bad. $10 here, $10 there. That’s nothing, right?
I’ve been smoking for three years, since right after I turned 18. I have 25 cigarettes in each pack. Based on a pack a day, IN THE PAST THREE YEARS, I HAVE SMOKED 22725 CIGARETTES. That is seriously terrible. Even ONE does damage. Plus, have I ever mentioned that I was born with a heart defect that had to be corrected with surgery, and I still have a heart murmur? How I ever thought starting was a good idea is beyond me. I’m not even going to do the cost calculation right now, because I’ll probably get sick, or worse, burst into tears thinking about how much it has cost me.
When I started, everyone around me smoked, and that was my justification. My mom, my dad, my uncle, my step-dad, a bunch of my friends; all of them smoked. They couldn’t tell me to quit, because they’d be hypocrites. When Jay and I found each other, he smoked too, along with all three of his siblings and his parents.
Now, the dynamic has changed. My mom, dad, and step-dad have all quit (and stayed quit for once). My uncle still smokes, but not as much, and only outside. I don’t hang out with the friends that smoke anymore. Jay’s parents still smoke as much as ever, but that’s never in the house, so I can easily avoid it.
The straw that broke the camel’s back is when Jay quit two weeks ago. He was sick, so he decided to just stop until he got better. Then when the sickness was gone, he realized he felt better than he has in years- he started when he was 14 or so. He has almost lit up a couple of times since, but he always fought back and broke the cigarette at the last minute. I’m so proud of him. The bad news is now he won’t kiss me unless I brush my teeth, and he can smell the smoke on me clear across his house and it makes him sick. I’ve been on this fence for a while.
So, after these cartons are done, I’m quitting.
That leaves me with one last pack on my next payday, and I can use that weekend to detox. Other times when I tried to quit, it would be a random day when I ran out of cigarettes and was too lazy to go get more. The longest I’ve lasted was 2 weeks in university. Last year, I lasted two days. I’ve decided to take a different approach and allow myself to finish what I have, being mindful that I have a due date and that once the packs are gone, they’re gone for good and will never be replaced.
That being said, this is still an addiction. The habit of lighting a cigarette every hour is hard enough to break without the added stress of nicotine withdrawal clawing at your synapses (and trust me, I am a massive bitch when I’m withdrawing). Although I have every confidence in myself that my love of money (and not disgusting my boyfriend) will prevail in this, I very well may relapse. If I do, there’s no reason I wouldn’t be honest about it.
So, come April 6th, I’m seriously going to quit smoking. I don’t know if I will succeed this time, but I’m damn well going to try.
Now if you will excuse me, I need a smoke.