Day Four: Smokeless and Miserable

I’ve been a smoker for 22 years. Yes, two notches more than two decades. It’s crazy when you think of it like that; all those years polluting my body yet preaching about yoga and vegetarian cuisine and the power of meditation. Talk about mixed signals and confused living! But, that’s me, always a little confused but spreading opinions around nonetheless.

Smoking was sorta my thing, though. Some people are craft beer geeks, touring local breweries and waxing their mustache so it curls on the ends to match the guy on the label. Some are wine-o’s or whiskey buffs, some are pot heads or whatever the new trendy term is for those with cards to get them into Smokey Joe’s Head Shop, and some are foodies, totally up on the newest cheese and healthiest smoothie. I’m not passing judgment—hey, we all have our vices. Smoking was mine.

And, I loved it. Every delicious second of it.

It’s a little shameful to think that I’ve been smoking for 22 years. Yet, at the same time, I love smoking so much the shame and negative cogitations are easy to overlook. Of course, the shortness of breath, stuffy sinuses, and way my hair smells by the end of the day all suck. But, the calming aspect of smoking is totally loveable.

There’s something Hollywood about a steamy cup of coffee accompanied by a delicious smokie and a tattered paperback. I want to live that Hollywood dream—without any of the side effects of smoking—everyday. I thought I could live that Hollywood lifestyle forever. “I am invincible.”

Only, I can’t have it both ways. I can’t have that movie-like world without the behind the scenes hacking. And, there is a very large part of me that’s simply exhausted from feeling like crud more than feeling like a rock star. You start to feel things in your 30’s. I might still get carded from time to time, but I’ll be damned if I still feel as young as the counter clerks flatteringly mistake me for.

I’ve been playing around with the idea of quitting for years. Whenever I would get a cold or be cornered by a health enthusiast I would start my, “I’m going to quit” mental mantra. I tried hypnotism, acupuncture, stepping down, and changing brands. Nothing worked. I don’t think I really wanted any of them to work. I wanted smoking to be my thing, because, it was my thing—my vice, my happy place, my five-minute escape 10 times a day.

I didn’t give myself a lot of warning this time. I looked at the calendar and saw a new month was starting. It didn’t matter that it was starting in three days. “Let’s do this” was all I was thinking. I have been battling seasonal chest congestion, hacking up all sorts of buried treasures from the depths of my lungs for weeks, and wincing every time a cancer commercial comes on. It’s time to quit. Finally, I want to actually end the madness that is this habit I share a love/hate for.

For the first time in 22 years, I went an entire day without smoking. April 1, 2016. And, I’m not April-fooling. Part of me didn’t think I could, but I made it an entire day—and three more.

I’m about to close my eyes on day four of my smokeless journey. I won’t lie—I’m completely miserable. Actually, I’m depressed. There’s a very dark cloud resting on my head and shoulders right now that I hope dissipates in the next few days. People keep telling me it will. I’ll hang onto their positively. I haven’t cried today, and that’s an improvement from yesterday’s tearful fit while driving home. I’m sure people next to me at red lights thought something dramatic happened. Nope. Just me changing my life pattern.

Although, I guess that’s pretty dramatic.

Come on day five!

#quit #smoking #personal #journey