I'm not going to lie, I cannot believe I'm still standing - but I am, and I am both amazed and so incredibly proud.
These last two weeks have been among the most trying of my life, and I don't take this statement lightly considering that many of my 36 years on this planet have not been easy. They have been riddled with tests that no young person should have to experience - from heartbreaking loss at a young age to battling mental health issues - I have been tested time and time again. The test, the struggle, the battle to quit nicotine is REAL. It took over my life, it hijacked my brain, it left me questioning my strength and resilience - traits that those who love say are hallmarks of personality.
But here I am, here I stand, here I run towards the finish line of that celebrated two week mark that I KNOW I will cross at 12:45pm tomorrow, Sunday November 24th.
Today is a good day, and for that, for every good moment I am now eternally grateful. Over the past two weeks my baseline has been "bad" with many moments of "horrific", "incapacitated" and a few times "feels like I'm going to die". My first week went as was expected, 3 awful days of intense physical withdrawal (which I was taken off guard by considering I am on the patch), followed by 4 really tough days of intense cravings, fought through with appreciation that the horrors of the physical withdrawal had passed. What I was not prepared for was how awful my second week was going to be. Call it naivety, call it ignorance, call it wishful thinking, but I thought I'd have one really bad week, a month of some cravings and call it a quit. Those of you on this site with experience will understand, when I say, oh BOY was I wrong. Week two broke open my long term, deep seeded psychological relationship with smoking (both traditional and electronic cigarettes), and left me feeling ill equipped to handle the ups, downs and stresses of daily life without my 21 year crutch. It started with feelings of depression and hopelessness that soon gave way to anxiety, panic and even terror that I would never feel "right" again without it. Days 11 and 12 brought forward the worst, they brought me to my knees, paralyzed by an overwhelming feeling of dread. Unable to take the panic any longer, and fearing I would lose my quit, I treated myself with (prescribed, under a doctor's care and advice) xanax to bring down my sympathetic nervous system of which my quit had sent into fight or flight overdrive.
I went to bed last night, day 12, terrified of what the future would hold. Thoughts were swimming in my head about the intense obligations of the next few weeks, and my inability to "bow out" of the world as I've mostly done for the last two. Traveling with my family for Thanksgiving this coming week, a 4 day work offsite away from home the week after that, a vacation to Portugal with friends over a year in the making in December, I was questioning my ability to do any of it.
I woke up this morning with that all too familiar "belly full of fire" feeling I get with my anxiety, and was sure I was in for another rotten day. But then something really wonderful happened...gradually it subsided. I got up, made some coffee, stuck on a patch. I fed my dog, cleaned up the living room and did some laundry. I checked a few annoying things I have been putting off, off my to do list. I ordered thanksgiving groceries and a birthday gift for my cousin. I met a friend at the gym and had a great workout. I went for a walk with my husband and dog, we ate lunch. And next thing I knew, it was 3pm and I was feeling kinda good. It was exactly what I needed to continue to feel confident in my quit.
I don't know what the future holds, and I expect many, many more tough moments to follow. But for now, for this moment, I am grateful to feel a little like myself.
