Saturday, January 29, 2005

I Hate Stress

Grrrr! Stress bites! I got so many things stressing me right now, it's just not funny. At least the thought of smoking isn't bothering me. You'd think that I'd be craving like a madwoman with all the stuff going on right now, but nothing. (whisper) It's almost like I never smoked. (/whisper) Trying not to tempt fate, there. LOL Cigs are actually the furthest thing from my mind right now. It's not like it would fix anything. It sure won't help my dad get better faster. It looks like he'll be fine..the clot's in his elbow...lucky bugger. *rolleyes*

I honestly can't thing of a single good thing I ever got out of smoking. I smoked because I had no choice, not because I wanted to. I smoked because I was addicted, and because it was all I knew. I thought people were supposed to smoke...after all, everyone I knew did it. Hey, I started when I was 11....WTF did I know, anyway? You know what really freaks me out? My twins are 11 in a couple months....they're BABIES, FCOL. So was I, but I thought I was sooooo grown up. Smoking is slavery, and that kind of existence is unacceptable to me now. I will not risk enslaving myself like that again because my dad's sick and going under the knife yet again, or because my stupid pain has flared up again, or even if the damn sky falls. I remember all too well what active addiction is like. I remember my last cigarette like it was yesterday. I thought that I needed it soooo bad, that it would make everything alright with my world again. It did no such thing. It tasted horrendous..not at all the "pleasant" taste I thought I remembered. Elephant dung probably tastes better. I choked and hacked for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn't catch my breath. I thought smoking would calm the cough I'd been dealing with for 2 weeks, can you believe that bull?! It was putrid, that smoke...I couldn't even finish it. So, did my stress magically disappear like I expected it too? Do cows really jump over the moon? Nope, 'course not. In fact, I felt worse than I'd just hit rock bottom. At the time, I journalled that there were just the 2 smokes in the pack I found in the garage...but it was more like 5 or 6. Don't ask me why. I haven't a clue. I was trying to quit smoking and wasn't the most lucid at the time. LOL Anyway, here's the real deal about that morning. Yes, I smoked half of 2 of those cigs. That's never been in question. After the second one, I knew that if I kept the rest, I'd be buying a pack in no time. I didn't do anything right away, though. I went for a walk to clear my head, and to visit Mickey at work to apologize. We'd been fighting all night. Then I went back home. I stood outside the garage door for a few minutes. I finally took a deep breath, opened the door and marched across the room to the workbench where I'd tossed the pack. I picked them up and stared at them for what seemed like hours. I could almost hear them whispering, "c'mon, you know you wanna, just smoke us, we'll fix everything, you need us, we own you....yada yada yada" My hands started to shake badly. I remember thinking, "If I don't quit now, these things will most likely end up killing me." I could still hear that evil little voice chanting, "smoke.....smoke.....smoke....." Me: "All smoking did was make me more miserable." Addiction: "you want need us...we own you..."I felt this tremendous surge of anger well up inside me....anger that for over half my life, the little white poison-filled tube held the control. Anger that this inanimate object had the power to make me jump through all sorts of hoops to get a fix. I slowly closed my fingers around the pack and squeezed. I squeezed harder and fingers flexing rythymically as I crushed that cardboard box and ground its contents to powder. I opened my fist, and loose tobacco ran from between my fingers. I felt kind of liberated as I looked down at the crushed pack....twas a "take that!" sort of feeling. LOL I'd love to say that my quit was smooth sailing after that, but I'd be a liar if I did. There have been rough spots, but I've made it past them. There have been many, MANY times that I've had the urge to light up, but my urge to live a long and on my own much stronger. For me it comes down to a simple choice...get busy living or get busy dying. (Yes, I did steal a movie sue me! heheh) I choose to live a life of quality, one where I don't end up dragging an O2 bottle around, or have to tell my beloved family that I'm going to die due to my own folly.


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