Today is Day Seven without a cigarette. That will be 10,080 minutes when day is done. Great, only 82 gazillion and three to go. How did I find myself stumble down this path?
Should I blame my Uncle Sam who made smoking both a reward and a symbol that at least momentarily we were safe with the utterance, "Smoke 'em if ya got 'em."? I remember feeling sorry for the poor dumbasses who didn't smoke. They had nothing to look forward to! Actually I started swiping my grandmothers Trues when I was eight. (She later died of ovarian cancer years after she quit smoking). By the time I entered the Navy at age seventeen, I was smoking three to four packs a day of Camel non-filtered cigarettes. I wouldn't leave the house without at least two unopened packs on my person.
I got hypnotized in 2001 and quit smoking for three and a half years. I gained seventy pounds. I then lost seventy pounds and in 2005 started smoking again. I've put fifty of those extra pounds back on. I didn't need any of them.
Everyone wanted me to quit again, but the weight bothered me too much. A bit over a week ago, one of my best friends was diagnosed with stage 2 brain cancer (Gliamotses Cerebri). He's thirty eight, quit smoking three years ago, and has a nine year old and a two year old. That was what made me finally want to quit, rather than feeling like I should or had to.
Every day my friend has left is a precious gift. Well duh huh. Every day any of us has left is a precious gift! Why don't we get that until we see the gift taken away from others? I don't want to throw anymore of my gift away. Even if smoking didn't kill me, I have wasted so much time being unproductive, adversely affected my daily health, and easily blown a nice car payment each month.
The time is now. I don't think I'll need to be told again.