A Year in the Life of a new Non-smoker...
April 18th, 2005 1:00 pm I decide to stop at Rite-Aid to pick up a few things.Random thoughts: My doctor tells me in March I better quit smoking. I promised my kids I would quit when I was 50 and I would be 51 on my next birthday, July 4th. Two of my very good smoking buddies say they are cutting down to quit in the next week or two. My father has just passed, on February 27th of pulmonary fibrosis. All these thoughts are on a constant loop in my head. Not to mention the commercials I see about the damage smoking does, to me, and those around me. I am smart enough to know that smoking is bad. But I love to smoke. I don’t have a lot of the issues many of my smoking friends do. I don’t cough, I don’t get sick a lot, food still tastes great, and I exercise and eat well. What to do?
I walk over to the pharmacy department and look at the nicotine patches. I think, what the heck...I’ll buy a box and then, when and if I decide to quit, I’ll have them to use. I didn’t even want to think about quitting without something to help me. I knew what my body felt like when I was just “wanting” a cigarette. My skin crawls; I would ache everywhere and often would get a headache. Withdrawals were horrible. I don’t like to deprive myself, and besides, it’s not like I’m addicted, I simply like to smoke. (heard that one? buahahahahahaha)
I get back to the office and think, maybe I’ll just put one of these patches on and see how it feels. So I do. Hey, what’s this? I don’t want to smoke. Two hours later, I still don’t want to smoke. Dang if these things work! I’m excited now. Maybe I can do this without too much trouble. HA! Thank goodness this is what I thought. If I had seen the future, I honestly don’t know that I would have gone through with it. God truly does give us only what we can handle. I had no idea of the roller coaster ride and journey that laid ahead of me over the next several days, weeks and months. 525,600 minutes to be exact.
Jump forward a few days. I’m dying here. I am feeling so crappy. I’m trying to be positive, but my life is in turmoil; my husband is an alcoholic, practicing at recovery. He has absolutely no patience for me and continues his tirade on his troubles with no consideration of how or what I’m feeling. He does say he supports me, but continues to smoke around me and then after a few weeks, starts drinking again, with one of his main “excuses” being that I’m so mean to him, that I’ve changed. Oops. Sorry...I’ve jumped forward too many moments.
Back it up a bit.
He does do one thing before he leaves. It saved my life and for that, I am forever grateful to him. He found this web site. He did a search of web sites for people quitting smoking and he gave me About.com. Then, I stumble onto the About.com Smoking Cessation Forum. I find my life raft. I find my hope. I find my lifeline to a new way of living without cigarettes.
I start reading like a mad woman. I reach out. I read everything I can. I read every thread that remotely looks interesting and even those that don’t. I see myself in so many of the posts. I cry. I read. I pace. I read stories about people that die from smoking. I cry. I hope. I post. I smile. I read. I laugh. Hope continues. I cry. I read some more. This continues for weeks. I don’t give up.
We don’t have the dots yet so I wait anxiously for my first star. I’m out of town on the day I should get it...my first road trip without my smokes. I’m successful and I get to come back and get my star. Hallelujah. I’m a non-smoker! Everybody here already believed I could do it. I thought I was fooling myself, but guess what? I did it. That first star is simply magical.
Next moments...I meet and fall in love with the WOS, Women of Strength. I want to become one of them. I admire them. I listen to them. I try to emulate them. Then I start to reach out to those that have come after me. I tell them I believe they can do it. “BELIEVE” becomes my mantra. I get a tattoo for my 3 months milestone that simply says believe, and I tell myself if I smoke, I have to have my tattoo removed. That would hurt and it would look very ugly. More motivation!
Cindy's Story, Page Two
