Sunday, 13 February 2011

ONE YEAR DOWN...



Last year when I decided to stop buying cigarettes, I was so unsure that I would manage to quit smoking that I didn't make note of the date I started giving up on. It was a Wednesday in January and I was walking home from therapy and I realised I just couldn't choke down another minty fresh menthol for a while. I decided to see how many days or weeks I could last...


And almost without trying, I have reached (and possibly exceeded) that magical 52 weeks. It has been a year since I last bought a packet of cigarettes. In concentrating on not buying any, I seem to have distracted myself into giving up completely. Apart from one drunken mistake a few months in, cigarettes have ceased to have any presence in my life. Sometimes I am more taken aback by the fact I ever smoked rather than the fact I have stopped. Everything about cigarettes has become rather alien to me and I stare in wonder at those who still partake, unable to fathom the appeal.

I also try to keep this feeling very quiet. No one likes a born again non smoker, especially one who has also had a shit-ton of therapy and would be prone to some judgemental hand waving and accompanying pyschobabble if they didn't keep themselves in check. I'd like to pretend that this is because I am a kind and thoughtful person, but it's really because I'm terrified I'll be exposed as a hypocrite if I'm not careful.

I gave up smoking for a full 18 months a few years back around the time I was 27 or so and then fell off the wagon in stress filled style, puffing away with vigour for several more years. So until I've passed that benchmark, I'm a little bit wary of calling myself a non smoker for sure. I can't imagine going back, I'm too used to the extra cash and not smelling godawful, but I'm still hesitant. Just in case pride goes before a fall...



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