It's been a really bad day. I mean really bad. I have been stomped on emotionally big time by my husband and oldest son since last night. I have done nothing but cry with each kick. I feel bad for my youngest son. He's an empath and has played middle man by his own accord. I try to keep him out of everything but he will pick up on the emotions even if I'm outside. I'm not a fighter. I don't yell or put anyone down. I don't lie, call anyone names or get physical. I may throw something but it's always my stuff and it purposely lands by my feet. The latest kick in my emotions sent me flying out to the garage for some air. The garage was my old smoking room. For a fraction of a second I thought about smoking. I think I still have that old pack in there somewhere. The rest of that second I had absolutely no interest in lighting up. I didn't use the NOPE, the fact that I pledged, 'I don't do that anymore', or any of the mirriad of great tools I learned here to thwart off craves. I just didn't have a craving for them. Not even a little. I felt more like I'd never smoked at all.
I know for a fact that I'll never be cured. There's no magic potion, no medicine, nor a genie in a bottle. I am an addict. My drug of choice is nicotine in the form of lighting my face on fire because there is a cigarette on there somewhere. There will be times along the line where I might have a craving for one. I will use any and every tool I learned here. I'm dang sure I'm not leaving EX! If I may add my fake southern accent here, Y'all are kin to me. There's no need to comment on these ramblings of a crazy woman, but I'm not going to restrict comments either.
As always, thank you for listening. Luv you all!
Julie
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