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Angie-Lah Blog

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I missed my 8 year anniversary a few months back, but I notice you guys did not, and I very much appreciate that. There's been a lot going on here. Taking care of my (kind of newly) widowed mother, health problems galore among many other family members, and I found out tonight that my teenaged nephew has a hopefully not too serious brain tumor that they'll be operating on in the coming days. Mom's cough seems to be getting worse these days. I'm waiting for the shoe to drop on that one. She's been fatalistic about it for years anyway. My grandmother was in her 60s when her doc told her about her emphysema and COPD. She marched right down to a hypnotist and quit smoking within weeks. We got extra YEARS we wouldn't have gotten with her otherwise. Who knows if the hypnotist actually worked or if she was just that determined to live? All I know is, if my doctor told me something I was doing was killing me, and here's what I could do to at least slow it down, I'm not gonna shrug and then go home and throw gasoline on it. It makes no sense. When I quit 8 years ago I didn't have some magic pill. I committed to the decision that I'd made to never smoke another damn cigarette. It was the hardest thing I've ever done. And to date, the most worthwhile. I'm struggling through another worthwhile quit that I hope I'll live up to, but time will tell. But I'm committing to it. Sitting back and watching the rest of my family slowly suicide themselves is becoming next to impossible. I'm finding it hard to keep my mouth shut. Its a good thing I'm going on an obviously needed vacation in 12 days because I'm becoming very grumpy.


He's at rest

Posted by Angie-Lah Jun 20, 2017

This won't be as long winded as most of my posts. My father passed at 1030AM yesterday. I had already left work because Mom told me he'd been asleep for over 12 hours. I thought I'd make it in time for one last goodbye but my husband called and told me I was too late, he was already gone. I'll forever hold on to that last "I love you too" that I got on Father's Day.

There's no shadow of a doubt in my mind that this was caused by cigarettes. My whole being is shattered. Please quit. Quit now and quit forever.


Happy Father's Day

Posted by Angie-Lah Jun 19, 2017

I spent Father's Day with my Dad yesterday. I'm under no illusions that I'll have any left after this one. I didn't bother to buy him anything or get him a card, everyone has told me the best thing I can give him right now is my time, and he wouldn't be able to read a card now anyway. His deterioration from lung cancer is nearly complete. What used to be vibrant brown eyes have undergone a strange change to a hazy unfocused blue that you nearly have to yell to break through whatever fog the cancer is causing to get his attention.


I'm not much of a yeller so I typically just sit with my hand in his.


His skin has become an inferno. I helped my Mom change him out of his signature long sleeve Harley Davidson shirt because it was soaked through with sweat. We turned a fan on and put him in a soft short sleeve scrubs shirt I bought for him months ago so he'd have something to wear that would give him back some of his dignity in the hospital while still allowing the nurses to gain access to his IV line. He doesn't talk anymore. Moving him is a physical agony for him and an emotional one for us. Knowing that we’re causing him pain, and not knowing if our explanation for why we have to shift him is getting through makes us feel terrible. Mom feeding him is an automatic body response to having something pressed against his lips. We're still fighting the clock to try to get him to hang on for one more day by keeping him hydrated and keeping his calories up as much as we can but it's becoming a race against time.


She called me at 8:01PM last night. I'd gone home with my husband to try to get the daily stuff done before another work week started. Of course I thought the worst. He's gone. But I was also grateful I'd at least seen him that day. She started the call by apologizing to me for calling after what would normally be the beginning of us settling down for bed. We both get up at outrageous hours, so I've viciously guarded my sleep for years now. For the first time in my adult life, I keep the ringer on at night so I can be reached no matter what time it is in case something changes with his condition or there’s an emergency. She was calling to let me know that he had a fever so she'd finally called the CNA and the nurse told her it was the cancer burning its way through his body. She said once that starts it's usually only a matter of days, at most weeks, before his systems will shut down completely.


I feel like I’m in a weird “in between” place in my grief. When all this first started, every time there was a change, or a worsening in his prognosis I would cry. I’d begin the grief all over again. Since I found out about the brain metastases though, I feel like I’ve said goodbye every time I’ve seen him. I don’t know how long a human body can hang on to the tension of losing someone, of letting that person go, while you’re still watching what’s left of their body go through the ravages of a disease and still retain that fresh anguish. I feel almost guilty for not being more public in my displays of grief. Relatives come over to say goodbye and they break down in tears after seeing him and I feel like I’m in a bubble outside of it. I know it’s going to hit like a freight train when his hand isn’t warm in mine anymore, but right now I’m a little numb.


When I peek in on him, when his eyes aren’t closed, he’s still lifting those two fingers to his lips in a constant repetitive motion. Even when nearly everything else is gone, and he’s lost nearly everything, he’s still trying to smoke.


He mostly groans now. Words are almost gone. When I said goodbye yesterday I got loud enough for him to focus on me and for me to be able to say I love you. His mumbled response sounded more like those viral videos they post of Huskies aroo-ing in an approximation of I ruv you (we always hear what we want to don’t we?) but I choose to believe that he was responding to me and that he said I love you too.



Sometimes a year will go by and I don't visit the site at all. And part of me is happy about that because it means that I've been able to move past something that was such a huge part of my life and that I hardly think about smoking at all anymore. And part of me is sad, because I want to try to engage more and give back what was given to me so freely by this entire community. I'm trying to make more of an effort to be here more, to pitch in, answer questions, or offer encouragement when someone is teetering on the fence. To share what's going on in my life in the hopes of deterring someone from taking one more puff on the road to cancer.


This is mostly just a thank you post. I didn't even discover this site until a couple months after my quit, but I'd entered a pretty dangerous period where a lot of relapses happen when I stumbled upon Become an EX. So I poured my heart out. I have a literal crap ton of journaling blogs from those first days, if anyone is just quitting and has any interest in perusing what those first months were like.


It wasn't pretty, but it became SO beautiful.


I don't know that I would have gotten here without this community. And then I kind of faded away, not visiting as much, popping in every 6 months to a year to announce another milestone. It was nice to know this group would always be here but there wasn't so much of a "need" anymore


And then the cancer diagnosis hit, and my family's denial of reality, and I found myself adrift with no kindred spirits with which to vent, talk, discuss, and rage against all the pain it caused. Then it hit me. Yes, I do. I have kindred spirits. And they're one little click away on my computer.


So thank you all, again, for everything that you've done. Every comment, every thought or prayer, every time you reached out and pulled me back in from an abyss. Every time you re-grounded me and helped me get back to sanity, thank you all so much.


If you're just discovering this site, or new here, or debating whether to quit, please use the resources this site offers. There are so many people here that are old hats at this. That have so much advice to give, and encouragement and love to offer. Take it. And then give back when you quit. Help lift those other newbies up.


Happy Tuesday ya'll.


This Journey

Posted by Angie-Lah Jun 12, 2017

In August of 2016, it was becoming clear that something wasn’t quite right with Dad. He was having constant back pain, and was admitted to the hospital for very low sodium and potassium levels. We spent some time at the Emergency Room on Fort Knox, and I watched as he writhed in pain, unable to get comfortable, constantly trying to pull himself up and move around in the bed. It was obvious that there was no position he could lie in and obtain any relief from the pain. I stayed with them for hours until the doctors made the decision to move him to Louisville and for them to continue testing to figure out what was wrong.

At this point, we still had hope. This was nothing. The doctors would figure it out, and Dad would be up and riding around on his newly triked out motorcycle in no time.

His health waxed and waned over the next few months, but we continued to hope in vain that he would regain his strength and get back to normal. I don’t remember the exact date that we got the cancer diagnosis. Once the doctor said those dreaded words, Lung Cancer. “Stage 4”, even though lung cancer isn’t broken down in stages like other cancers. He was trying to tell us it was terminal.

The next few months would be a roller coaster of hospitalizations, with each one progressively making him weaker. He was admitted in January for pneumonia, and then in February, we got word that the cancer had metastasized to his brain. You would think at this point that I would have entered some kind of acceptance over this but all I remember after getting this phone call is being on the floor in the kitchen, back against the cabinets, sobbing. I think it was this news that really, finally, drove home for me that this wasn’t going away.

 We celebrated his 66th birthday in February. He was weak, but he was still up, mobile, and eating a decent amount at each meal. I went over and made hummus chicken for him, one of his favorite dishes over the last few months, and his mom’s bean salad. I never have gotten that recipe quite right, but they both seemed to enjoy it. We ate twizzlers, and he rediscovered that he liked Gardettos. I guess with me out of the house, they hadn’t purchased them in a while, and he forgot how good they were. J

Dad would undergo chemotherapy, radiation, and a literal **** ton of medications over these months, to try to improve his quality of life, and try to drive back the growth of the cancer.

On May 23rd, after another bout of what was assumed to be low sodium and potassium, more brain lesions and a possible previous stroke were discovered. His oncologist made it apparent that the next round of chemotherapy that had been suggested, oral chemotherapy, just was not possible in his present condition. After talking with Mom, and getting the information she’d received from his doctors, it was fairly obvious we’d reached the point where his present condition wasn’t going to improve, and further rounds of chemo would just take away what quality of life he could expect to have over his remaining months.

The decision was made to have hospice come in, and to take him home.

He’s home now, and we’re making the best of what can only be called an impossible situation. No one ever tells you that there’s no switch that is flipped that tells you when the last coherent conversation you’ll have with your loved one is going to happen. I already know I’ve cooked for him for the last time. He’s down to eating soft foods like jello, pudding, ensure, etc. Things that he can easily chew and swallow. Chicken at this point would be way too difficult. I already know that I’ve already gotten the last advice I’ll ever get from him. He’s still able to answer simple questions for the most part, when he’s having a lucid moment, but the brain lesions have made it very difficult for him to stay focused, and conversation is beyond him now.

You can see the frustration in his eyes when he struggles. When he sits for up to half an hour smoking a cigarette that isn’t even in his hand and tries to put it out in an ashtray that isn’t there. Most of his faculties are gone at this point, but he’s still trying to smoke. And sometimes Mom wheels him to the door and lights one for him and watches as carefully as she can, but he’s still managed to burn his fingers in about 4 different places because he’ll just keep smoking it down right past the filter.

Mom has become his full time caregiver. And it’s wearing on her. We help where we can, but another thing no one ever tells you is how to balance still trying to maintain some semblance of a normal life; working, taking care of pets and bills, trying to stay on top of housework, and yet still somehow making the hour long round trip drive to visit as much as we can and help as much as we can.

One bright spot in the dark is that my brother was able to PCS here with his family and they’ll be living with them for a while. He’ll be able to help with lifting Dad, and be able to do the things that my husband and I can’t.

I still have some anger in my heart over all this. Maybe it’s a denial thing on their part, but Mom is still insisting that Agent Orange had some huge part in all this. Like its 90% to blame for his cancer. And hell, who knows, maybe it did contribute. I’m not a doctor. I do know what the studies say. And they all agree, cigarettes = cancer. It feels like using Agent Orange is a cop out for everyone in my family to continue smoking, which is what they’re all doing. I have vivid images in my head of them leaving the funeral home in the coming months to take smoke breaks while attending the funeral of my father who died of cancer. It makes me angry and it’s frustrating to no end.

I vacillate between sympathy, anger, and frustration. I have to carefully gauge my responses sometimes when visiting with them because it almost feels like I enter some kind of twilight zone of denial and outright refutation of reality. I sat with him for a few hours recently so Mom could run some errands as he’s reached the point where he can’t be left alone at all. On her way out, she said “I left some cigarettes on the front porch for him in case he wants some while I’m gone. But don’t you go and smoke them!” I just sat there in disbelief for a moment and all I could say was “Are you serious?”, while in my mind all the things I couldn’t say: In what world, in the last nearly 7 years of being smoke free would you think I would pick up the very item that is causing our current situation? What in buddha’s name would make you think I would ever touch these things again? Have you not seen what they’ve done to your husband? What they’re probably going to do to you because you refuse to accept the reality of why we’re all watching his rapid decline?

I don’t expect anyone to live forever, but I did figure we’d have at least another decade or more with him. Cigarettes have stolen him from us. He’s still here, and we’re treasuring what time we have left, but he, whatever made him HIM, isn’t here anymore.


Lung Cancer Update

Posted by Angie-Lah May 9, 2017

Dad was admitted to the ER a couple of weeks ago. He was incoherent, didn't know where he was, who we were, and had no idea what was going on. Just kept trying to get out of his wheelchair. Where he thought he was going, I don't know. His sodium and potassium levels bottomed out again, a common side effect of small cell lung cancer. He was admitted and spent about 10 days in the hospital, giving the staff hell the whole time until the doctor finally said, fine you want to go home? Go.


During that 10 days in hospital he spent a couple days getting back to "himself", which is still a vague shadow of who he used to be, he missed my MBA graduation, and my mom has been running herself ragged going back and forth from the hospital to home and back to bring him what creature comforts she can. His decision to aggravate the staff into finally discharging him caused his oncologist to have to jump through hoops to get him admitted to a rehabilitative facility to help him gain enough strength to even be able to do the next round of oral chemo. Giving it to him with his strength where it currently is would be tantamount to murder, so the doctor wisely chose not to go that route.


He's been in the rehab facility for a couple weeks now and they were finally able to stabilize his sodium, although it's still below 135. He shakes, it takes him about 10 minutes to push his wheelchair across a room. His comprehension still isn't great. All of this is related to the hyponatremia from the sodium depletion, but it's also related to his small cell lung cancer and the radiation that was done to his brain. He isn't the same person he was just 6 months ago. He gets disoriented easily, he's constantly fatigued, and his quality of life is shot as he can't do any of the things that he used to that made his life enjoyable. I know we're living on borrowed time right now.


I don't post these to make anyone feel bad or to be a doomsday blogger about smoking. I share these updates because: 1, it helps me process everything that I and my family are going through, 2, it serves as a reminder to me as I approach my own 7 year quit-iversary to never smoke again, and 3, if I reach even one person that's quit and is waffling about taking another puff, then it's worth it. It's never too late to quit smoking. Find your reason why and then stick to it.



Posted by Angie-Lah Apr 20, 2017

My father was readmitted to the hospital last night. I won't rehash everything I've already said about his SCLC. It's in my blog. It's spread to his brain. His sodium levels have dropped to the point that he doesn't know who he is, or who we are. I've always written to work out the emotions that I struggle with, lately mostly having to do with him. I thought I'd share this here. I don't feel comfortable sharing it with loved ones yet. I don't want them to think I've given up on his fight, or have accepted a foregone conclusion, but I'd lose my mind if I didn't have some way to process this anticipatory grief. if you're on the fence, or struggling to quit, please find the strength to stay quit. It's never too late.


I do

Imbue It

With a sentient evil

A stranglehold of


yet iron strong





Layered clouds

slinking through open doors

but sticking to

grasping clawing sinking terminal nails

into the vital organs of the afflicted


Money. Greed. Profit.

But so much higher the cost

for the lung

in which it resides


The hooks sunk in the


the mind

the bones

so long before

its ever entwined itself

permanently among

the branches of a life


Weighted chains

Weakened Limbs

shortened breath




gasping wandering eyes

the frustration of a life



A sideways glance

as if it say, yes

but you did this

as though to say

culture and the money

thrown to encourage

*that blissful inhalation*

that toxic sludge

played no part


And now,

what does it matter

how it began.

Only how it ends.

Like this. A life






Posted by Angie-Lah Feb 28, 2017

So it’s been a few months since my last post. I was still holding out hope after my Dad’s latest scans that I would have some kind of good news or at least positive progress to share, and unfortunately, that’s not the case. We’ve watched him go through 6 rounds of chemo, drop weight drastically, lose all of his appetite, all of his hair, and become a shadow of his former self.

The cancer has not only not gone into remission, it has metastasized to his brain. The last scan in December did not show this development so it’s moving more rapidly now. Statistically, the doctor has told him with radiation he has 6 months to a year. Without, from 3-6 months. I can’t even find anything online that offers that much time but I’m hoping we have at least that.

He’s only 66. I’m only 33. He shouldn’t be dying this young and I shouldn’t be losing my father this young.

Please stop smoking. Stop before you do this to yourselves, or to your family members. I can’t describe to you what these months of anticipatory grief, knowing we’re going to lose him soon, has done to my family. My mom is about to be by herself for the first time in her life. I can’t even begin to fathom what life without him is going to be like, but all too soon I’m going to have to experience just that.

I’m going to do what I can to enjoy what time I have left with him.

Please stop smoking.


Angie-Lah Archived Profile

Posted by Angie-Lah Jan 23, 2017



I was a pack a day smoker for the last 10 years...started at 16 and never looked back until a few months ago. I've had chronic headaches since I was a teenager, debilitating ones 2-3 times a week, been on the full spectrum of medication for them and nothing ever worked. I quit for a few months in my very early twenties and noticed within a few days that my headaches had disappeared entirely. It was an amazing headache. But of course, like the vast majority of smokers, I relapsed within a few short weeks and was back to chronic headaches in no time at all. The bad and truly sad thing  was that I now knew EXACTLY what was causing them and chose the addiction anyway. This went on for another few years. Imagine the worst headache you've ever had after a night of alcohol indulgence and that barely scrapes the surface of how bad they hurt. But I had and have a full time job and had to function through these knowing every morning that I woke up that as long as I smoked, no medication would even put a dent in the pain. But, stupidly, I kept smoking. This went on for a few more years. In July of 2010 I finally managed to get a different job than the one I'd been stuck in (describing that job as a hellhole would be putting it nicely) so I thought maybe, just maybe a less stressful environment would help with the headaches. I was wrong. My body had finally had ENOUGH. For the first 2 weeks of my new job that I absolutely loved, I had an 8 day straight headache. Always before I would have at least a small break of maybe 1/2 a day to a day between the headaches to recover from the last one. But this sucker stuck around for 8 days. Woke up with it, went to bed with it, worked through it, it was AWFUL. I finally said enough. I used the patches for 1 month, starting with the 14's because I didn't feel like I smoked enough to need the 21s. Holy crap, what a mistake. I went through withdrawal almost bad enough to make me quit quitting. Full on bouts of depression, sobbing in my drink kind of crying, the worst cravings I've ever had in my life and it just didn't seem worth it. But for some reason, this time, the memory of that pain made me fight through it. I never wanted to go through that first week again. Even with the patches the craving and overwhelming sense of sadness at the changes in my life were almost unbearable. Due to some allergy issues with the patch, I had to give those up too LOL. So, I guess I quit "lukewarm" turkey. But, somehow, I got through it. Looking back now, I'm amazed that I did. It hasn't been so long that I don't remember exactly how bad it was. But I set those cigarettes down on 30 July 2010 and I WILL NOT pick them back up. Not for anything in the world! 

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Reading! Spending time with my hubby. Exersize, either running 3-4 miles every other day or working out with Jillian Michaels. Know what I'm not interested in? SMOKING! :)


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Here again

Posted by Angie-Lah Oct 11, 2016

Good morning everyone,

My last post let you all know that my father's cancer hadn't spread and that we were all hoping for remission with the chemo treatments. Unfortunately, we ended up not being so lucky. We discovered after further testing that the constant back pain he was in was actually caused by his cancer having already moved into his bone marrow. So his condition was upgraded to Stage 4 Extensive Small Cell Lung Cancer. It's been a roller coaster of hospital visits, medications, chemo, doctors, and visiting familiy for the last month or so. He was readmitted over the weekend because his platelets dropped so low he began experiencing spontaneous bleeding. The oncologist really laid it all our for us yesterday when Dad began grumbling about going home before they wanted him to. His Dr basically told us that what Dad wants matters at this point and that he needs to enjoy what time he has left. That there is no cure so all we can hope for is extending his life right now. I'm over the anger I told you guys about initially. Now I just hate how uncomfortable he is all the time. I don't keep writing these to solicit sympathy messages, although I truly do appreciate the outpouring I've gotten from you guys. I'm writing in the hopes that someone waffling sees these and it makes any kind of difference in their decision to not start again. I can't tell you how painful it is to watch someone so strong be brought so low by pain and weakness. To cough and struggle for air and regret every minute they didn't quit sooner. It really is never too late. Don't let yourself become a statistic. I don't wish this on anyone or anyone's family. To see a loved one go through this is the most gut-wrenching thing I can imagine. Please quit. And stay that way.


Some hope ahead

Posted by Angie-Lah Sep 25, 2016
  First, thank you all so much for the kind words, comments, thoughts and advice that you sent my way with news of my Dad's cancer recently. It is absolutely a testament to this website and the wonderful people here that one of my first thoughts upon hearing the news and getting totally overwhelmed was that I needed to reach back out to this community for strength and support, just like I got when I quit smoking. You are all so amazing and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. I've moved past the anger that I felt initially. I was just so overcome with it that I couldn't function in a healthy way for a couple of days and with your words and support I've been able to move past that. We found out on Thursday that my dad's cancer has not spread past the original tumor in his lungs. With small cell lung cancer and him having already experienced symptoms, that is nothing short of miraculous and I'm so very grateful that it was discovered so early. There is still no cure for this cancer, but his prognosis is vastly better with it having been caught so fast and we may even see it go into remission if the chemo and radiation do their job. It's still going to be a very rough road ahead. This man survived multiple tours to Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq and I know he's terrified that something he can't even see has brought him so low so fast. He refuses to talk about it and gets angry when it's brought up so we're respecting that. I'm trying to be there for my mother because, like me, she needs to talk about it, to knock that monster back to it's knees through communication and he's not allowing her to do that. Which I understand. The news is still so fresh, and I'm sure he's just as scared as we are about what's to come. I'm sure I'll be back here often, reading your posts, cheering for the new quitters and hoping that the quit sticks for you all like it has for me. For those of you just starting out on your quit journey, please think of yourselves and your families and how relapsing can lead you right to where my family finds themselves. Look up the stats on how quickly your body starts to recover and how drastically your risk of cancer drops when you allow yourself to heal. Don't quit your quit. Stick to it. For you and for your family. I wouldn't wish this fear, uncertainty, and pain on anyone else or their loved ones. You still have time to avoid this.


Posted by Angie-Lah Sep 21, 2016

I haven't been on here in so long. I'm 6+ years into my quit and have rarely struggled with it since getting over the initial months. And I'm not struggling with it now. I'm just angry. And terrified. And so damn depressed. I found out yesterday that my father has small cell lung cancer. It's aggressive. They caught it early but there's no cure for this cancer and 98% of the time it's caused by smoking. I don't even know which way to turn at this point. I spent last night and tonight sobbing over my keyboard in an attempt to get it out so I can hold it together at work. Prognosis for this particular cancer isn't good either. Only 2% of people once diagnosed make it to 5 years. Most die much faster than that. I'm so scared of losing him. He's always been such a larger than life person and to know what he's about to go through, what we're all about to go through, scares me to death. I'm depressed for my mom. She barely knows how to take care of herself. What is she going to do when he's gone? And I'm angry. The rage inside me right now scares me too. Every single last adult in my family smokes. We just watched my grandmother die a few years ago from emphysema and COPD and it's like it had no impact on them. What I did 6 years ago isn't miraculous. It isn't impossible. I quit. And it was hard and I hated how hard it was for a while. But I think the fact that I did it compounds my anger over knowing that this cancer was nearly completely preventable and now I'm going to lose one of the most important men in my life decades before we should have because of cigarettes. I don't know what to do with all of this. I don't know how to be there for him and not be bitter and resentful over the fact that this shouldn't even be happening. And I'm just scared.


5 years later

Posted by Angie-Lah Jul 31, 2015

Yesterday was my five year anniversary of quitting. Sometimes I feel like a fraud when I tell people that it's been 5 years because it's just so dang easy now. Other times I remember how hard the first few months were and am proud of the 5 years. I think the more time that passes the more I may take it for granted that it's just part of my identity now: non-smoker. Good luck to all of you starting out. The only advice I have is to remember that this time will pass, you will get through it and it's completely worth it in the end. Stay away from alcohol until the cravings completely go away. One drink with the wrong crowd and you could start back at square one. If you have family that smokes, stay away until you can handle it. If they can't understand that they need to be more supportive. I don't come here very much anymore because the only time I think of cigarettes now is when I'm at my parents and I'm getting a raging migraine from being around their second hand smoke. This site served a fantastic purpose when I needed it most and I wish the best for all of you deciding to quit a very nasty habit.

It seems like about the only time I come here anymore is because I've had about enough and need somewhere to unload it all. Which is one of the great things about this site I suppose. So many supportive people, usually nonjudgemental too LOL. I'm still very happily smoke free btw, little over 8 months now, 3806 cigarettes not smoked! Here comes the but....

Finally after 7 years of being completely dissatisfied with myself and my health, I'm exactly where I want to be. I gave up smoking a little over 8 months ago after a pack a day 10 year habit, and I've lost a total of 23 lbs. I'm 5'6 and 125 and don't want to lose or gain any. I do a 25 minute Jillian Michaels workout every day, with an occasional day off if I feel like taking a day off. My husband is thrilled for me, and is nothing but supportive, & when it's just me, him or my friends, I'm a really happy, content girl that I feel like made necessary healthy life changes and is exactly where I need to be.

Now for the but part. Instead of celebrating my successes with me, my parents have fought me every step of the way. They quit smoking the same time I did, and gave up after a few months. I didn't really say anything about it, because they have to make their own life decisions, but when I didn't want to go out to eat with them and sit in the "smoking section", it's because "there's nothing worse than a reformed smoker," followed quickly by a semi-supportive, "but if that's what you need to do to stay quit...." I never can just get a "hey, good job, glad you didn't give in." It always has to be accompanied by some kind of snarky comment about me being preachy about smoking. I don't consider me silently removing myself from a smoky section of the house or where ever we are, being "preachy." If I don't smoke, I certainly don't want to smell like it, or more importantly, breathe it in. They've fought me on the weight loss too. Me working out every day is "obsessive" to them. I take days off every now & then, if I don't feel like working out, I don't. But it's not as though I'm doing daily marathon training sessions at the gym. It's 25 minutes for heavens sake. With 3 lb weights. Not exactly the next strong (wo)man competition. And me being 125 at 5'6 is unhealthily thin apparently. Nevermind the fact that I've shown them BMI charts and told them that my doctor is completely happy with my progress and my physical health. That can't possibly be right because I'm just too thin. They're "shocked" at my portion sizes on the rare occasion that I meet them for dinner because you can actually see the surface of my plate, while theirs is overflowing.

Sorry if I brought everyone down with this, I just had to vent & attempting to talk to them is like throwing words at brick walls. They just don't get it and are in complete denial when I point out how judgemental they're being. I think a lot of it is how dissatisfied they are with their own weight. They talk constantly about making life changes and I've offered more than once to let them borrow my workout DVDs so they can see if it's something they'd be interested in doing, but they get these facial expressions like, um. no, we don't want to be that "hardcore" about it. What part of this am I not understanding, how is 25 minutes of ANYTHING hardcore? I don't count every single calorie, I just set a limit for each meal and try to stay within that, with a few healthy low calorie snacks throughout the day. UUGGGGHHHHHH. It's so frustrating. I know I shouldn't let it affect my own happiness with my accomplishments, but when the people you love the most can't celebrate with you, and worse disregard it or turn it into a negative, it really takes some of the shine off. :(



6 months!

Posted by Angie-Lah Jan 30, 2011

Good morning everyone! I quit smoking back on July 30, 2010 so I guess that makes today officially 6 months. I still haven't had a moment's regret since I made that decision....quitting smoking didn't have a single negative impact in my life, only lots of positive ones. To this day I still discover reasons to be happy about quitting and I have a strong suspicion that will never change. I'm going to keep this short because I have some visiting to do with family. I wish those of you that are just starting out the best, there's no luck involved in this, only hard work and the determination within yourself to either make the decision and stick with it, or not. And congrats to all my friends out there that are sticking by their quit! Hope everyone had a happy weekend!