Wednesday, September 11th is my quit day.
To prepare for the big day, I've hung sheets of paper around my room. They read, "There is nothing good about smoking," and "Smoking does nothing for me."
I will use the patch and tomorrow will stock up on more patches. Also tomorrow, I will move my lighters to a different area of my apartment. I will be learning Tai Chi, will meditate more often, will chew gum, will write and read whenever I feel the urge. When that devil of a thing, social anxiety gets a hold of me, I won't reach for a cigarette, but will draw deep breaths in then out cherishing my ability to breathe and to be alive. I will avoid my usual smoking spots: the corner outside the coffee shop. The back alley fence post. My friend's back porch. Outside the grad school I recently graduated from.
A life without smoking will be a new and better life. On quit day, I will do laundry with a giddy step listening to my favorite hippie 60s jams. Folding my t-shirts, I will put them to my nose, smell the freshness of soapy suds.
When I leave my apartment for the day, people will actually be able to smell that brush of Polo cologne on my lapel. My breath will smell of Crest toothpaste, and in a week or so, I'll be able to taste food. My skin will be smoother, will no longer be morphing into a baseball glove. And what I'm most looking forward to . . . when I'm outside, I won't have to worry about blowing smoke in people's faces. Feeling guilty about smoking near other people. Asking if it's okay if I smoke when I'm with a friend or on a date. I won't have to worry about smelling like smoke going into a job interview. It creates more anxiety than it alleviates.
I'm done for now.
Looking forward to Wednesday.