Congratulations to Me

Six months ago, being able to say that I have gone for this long without a cigarette would have been a stretch. I truly did not think I could quit. In fact, I was afraid to try. I was afraid I would fail.

Twenty times five equals 100. That’s how many minutes I spent smoking each day.

The fact is, I had been a smoker since I was 13. I never really quit for more than a day or two. Smoking was my crutch. I recall talking to my wife once, after a job interview. I told her that I had been asked how I dealt with stress.

“That’s easy,” she replied, almost too automatically, “You go smoke.”

The reality was that I smoked for a lot of reasons, to satisfy a lot of needs. I smoked out of habit—the nicotine urge that springs forth as an ugly reminder to fire up.

I also smoked to reward myself. If I had written a good introduction, or had just made progress on a project, I would light up and savor the moment. I smoked when I was bored, anxious, nervous or edgy. I always smoked in a bar setting. I always smoked just before arriving home. I smoked because not smoking would mean that my ex-wife was right.

But I quit for myself.

I am so much happier now.

Thank you, Chantix.