I haven't written here in months. Not since the first month of quitting. It's now been almost eleven. I hardly crave anymore--only after certain foods.
But now, I am at the lowest place I have ever been. My husband, who I love more than anything else in this world, has decided to leave me. Leave me over an argument that should have been resolved. An argument that is no bigger than ones we've had in the past, and certainly no bigger than those we would have had in the next fifty years.
I feel like I am dying. That may sound overdramatic, but so be it. I honestly just want to cry for days, then sleep for weeks after that. He is, or...I suppose, was, my best friend. And now it would seem as though he is leaving so that he can have the freedom of singlehood--flirt with whomever, spend money however, etc.
But today, I realized one good thing. Naturally, I've been craving cigarettes horribly. To smoke this minute would be heaven in a week of absolute hell. I want to, I do. But then--I didn't. Because I realized I would have to quit all over again--I'd have to spend all that money on patches and whatnot, I'd have to have withdrawals, and my health would be worse for it. And THAT made me realize that despite this state of nothingness and numbness, I am still contemplating the future. That was the first time I acknowledged that the future will come, and that I want to be healthy in it.
I think that's something.
