So I think I'm finally ready to talk about this. I was nervous about mentioning it, for fear of jinxing it. Or because I'd feel like an asshole if I mentioned it and then it didn't work out. (And no, I'm not talking about the Patriots). Let's begin with an exercise.
Try to think about something that you've done every day since you were sixteen years old. Something that you do with your friends, or when you're alone. Something that's with you when you're sad, or frustrated, or angry. Something that's with you when you celebrate and when you mourn. Something that you've come to rely on as always being there for you. Something that is always there with you, like your wallet or your keys or your hands.
And then try to think about never having that thing... ever again.
I quit smoking.
I mean, sure, it's only been seven days, but I'm pretty sure this is the longest I've ever gone... since I was sixteen years old. And I'm doing it for real, not just "let's see how long I can go" bullshit. I've got patches and lollipops and all kinds of fucking gum.
It's a pain in the ass. It's not helped by the fact that a) I drink quite a bit, and usually smoke when I drink, and b) all of my friends except one smokes too. Which has led me to these unfortunate conclusions...
1) I have to stop drinking for a while. Needless to say, I am not pleased. Particularly since one of my friends just got me a spectacularly good bottle of Scotch for Christmas.
2) I am also going into temporary exile from my friends, to avoid temptation. I'm not thrilled about that either. But it's gotta be done.
I'm not looking for sympathy, because frankly, I got myself here. It's not like I couldn't have stopped years ago, when it would have been easier. But like most people, I thought I was immortal when I was young, and am more and more being forced to realize that... well, that's just not fucking true. But more importantly, for years I didn't quit because I didn't think I'd be able to. And if that isn't the most ridiculous self-fulfilling bullshit I've ever fed myself, I don't know what is. And then, late last year, I started getting angry with myself. Who am I to think I'm not strong enough? Goddammit, I'm plenty motherfucking strong. I've survived broken bones, stitches, and my parents leaving the country. I've survived heartache and deaths in the family. Fuck that. That excuse just ain't gonna wash anymore.
Not to mention that it pains me to do something that supports one of the absolute worst, most evil corporate machines in the history of the known universe.
So anyway. This is day seven. And it's on like Donkey Kong.