First off, thank you to everyone who offered support last night! I fought the urge, and I won. It may not always be easy, but now as I sit here, I can say that I am proud of myself for not giving in.
So here we are on day 4. I have read that writing a letter to your addiction helps, so I decided to compose my own.
Dear Smoking,
It has been a long time that we have been together, and honestly, I never thought we would be at this point now. Twenty two years I have known you and we have shared successes, failures, and everything in between. You have been there for every major part of my life, and looking back it is almost impossible to remember not holding you in a hand. All things have to come to an end, and I realized for you and I it boiled down to a choice. Almost Harry Potter-esque where only one could truly survive. In a choice between me and you, I have to go with me. I used to say I loved you, but I am not willing to sacrafice myself for you. That being said, I can't say that I love you anymore.
It would be easy to blame you for everything, but I feel to really do this, I have to shoulder some of that blame. One person/thing is never soley responsible. You didn't force me to pick you up, or spend the money I did that could have been used elsewhere. I chose to pick you and now I am chosing to end this destructive relationship.
I feel ashamed for some of the things I have done. I stayed with you while I was pregnant. Three times. In the choice where it should have been so easy to leave you behind, I made excuses to keep you around. When I think about it now that we have been apart for a few days, I can see that while I make my own choices whether to endanger myself, I made that choice for my children before they could talk. I thank God every day that my children were not born with any health problems because of my actions. I look at my 11 year old daughter and think when I was her age, we had already met and had started our path together. I also thank God that my daughter is smarter then I was at that age.
So now, here we are, after 22 years. I know you think it won't last, since I have left you before. I sometimes cry, but that is part of the grieving process. I see you for what you are, and all those times I thought you were there for me, helping me, making me feel better - I see all you were really doing was solidifying your place in my life. You weren't really looking out for me, you were looking out for you. Real friends would not do that. I left you and though I may still look for you in all of our old familiar places, I don't really want to see you again. I recognize that you were once a part of my life, but now that time has past. It hurts. I know this will pass. I miss you, but I love me more. This is finally about me.
It has only been four days, but I want to tell you about me now. I am finding things to do to fill up the space that you not being around has left open. Remember when my family would be doing things in the living room, and I would be outside with you? We are going to work on a jigsaw puzzle that we never opened. Or how about when I would go outside, and Julie would stand at the door and yell for me? Yeah, last night I took that 5 minutes where I would be out with you and sat her on my lap and read her favorite book to her. She loved it! My husband told me how much he loves kissing me again now that I don't have you lingering on me. I am hoping next year I will have some of my lung capacity back so I can coach Lena's cheerleading squad. I have plans - none of which include you.
A line from a Robert Frost poem comes to mind for me know while I go through this. "I took the road less traveled by, and that's made all the difference." I am taking that road. It will make all the difference.
It's been real -
Jaime
