If there is such a thing as dedicating a blog to someone, this one goes to Connie. She wrote about visiting someone and NOT smoking. Her words haunted me... after the fact. Sorry, Connie... I should have taken your words more to heart, or re-read your blog before I went to Seattle.
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Well, the cat was officially out of the bag this morning when Ms. Tamarale took a BACK seat on the Freedom Train. No, she did not get to 100 days smoke free. No, she did not pass GO, or collect $200. She humbly grabbed the rails as it slowed down a bit, and jumped on. In fact, she only made it to 88 days. Tommy, in his exuberance and joyful celebration of our milestones, did not notice that her quit-clock had been removed last week.
Remember the brand of jeans called "No Excuses"? I'd like to give everyone here an excuse, but truthfully, the ONLY reason is this: I am a nicotine addict. I wandered around in No Wo-Man's Land saying "NO" to bad ex-boyfriends who smoked, "NO" to my mom and dad who smoke (in their home, while I visited), "NO" to any situation that would put me "at risk." And, then...
Seattle. My dear friends, both smokers. Last year when I was there, we'd go out on the deck and have a glass of wine, a smoke, and chat looking over the beautiful cityscape. Good memories! We didn't smoke "a lot" .. maybe a few puffs and would put them out, like kids, then hurry back inside where it was warm.
My friends pick me up at SEA. They are SO PROUD that I have quit smoking! and what do I do the minute they go outside and light up?
I ASKED FOR A PUFF! THREE FULL MONTHS OF NOT SMOKING AND I CHOSE TO PUT MYSELF IN HELL AGAIN.
Then the spiral. Once you take that "puff" you have given your internal addict permission to do whatever the hell it pleases. Then you feel BADLY about it, so you SMOKE MORE. Great logic. I hated myself for smoking, and saw the immediate effects of addiction.
It was like time-lapse photography. A few puffs. Then wanting to have a cigarette, then NEEDING to have a cigarette. Feeling anxious all over again. Feeling no energy. Hating myself for smelling like a cigarette. Hating myself for not being able to smell the delicately scented lilacs, still in bloom.
Absolutely too ashamed to blog, and computer not always "available," I answered emails from EXers who wondered what was up. (Thank you Carolyn, Cher, Dale, Gypsy.. and others). I called Dale in tears and he talked me down from the ledge more than once. "Don't Worry—When you get home, we'll help you take care of it!" and "You will be okay! You just went through this and you don't have to be afraid. FEAR is worse than the quit." Thank you thank you thank you thank you for your compassion.
I've been home 3 days. I haven't smoked since I left Seattle—and left my remaining cigarettes on the counter. I chose to leave them there, and leave the last trip to nic-hell there as well. The NEXT time I visit my dearest friend, I shall have gum, lozenges, patches, and whatever else I need. I can also always use the opportunity to take their wonderful dog for a walk.
I love them dearly, and somehow, by smoking I feel I let them down as well.
How could I have done this? No Wo-man's land is real, folks. You think you're past the hump. You've got a great quit going. You're CALM, relaxed, feeling better than you ever have. You MARVEL at this! It's so great! Each day a blessing, a thank you, a gratitude for feeling so good again. Your senses have returned. You have energy again. And you have a glass of wine with good friends and think... oh, ONE won't hurt. Where did THAT come from?
I've been in 3 days of "hangover-hell" from my 9-day binge. I can look forward to probably at least another week of discomfort (putting it mildly). If there is such a thing as a silver lining in this cloud, it's that I know what to expect. I'm at home where I can somewhat "control" the situation, and I know this, too, shall pass. This time, I'm not using NRT, but they are handy. My crutch will always be near. Whatever it takes to be smoke free.
