Days, 12...Body Count...0

For 12 days, I cannot believe I have managed to remain smoke free! A 20 year, pack (and a little more on occasion) smoker, this has been no small feat, believe me. I have had other 'mini-quits' in the past, but 12 days with nary a puff....It's truly remarkable.

Now, lest you get the idea I am one of those fire-and-brimstone health nut smokers...NO...certainly not the case. My exercise regimen is vigorous when I go up and down the stairs twice because I am bringing groceries in. I got tired of the 'work' that smoking is. Having to make sure you've got ones available for the one pack buy...scraping together your quarters for the $3.50 you need when you don't have ones...standing outside in sub zero weather to get the fix...I guess I just got too lazy to smoke.

But, as crazy as it sounds...I really miss the act of smoking. I miss the 5 minute respite where all you do is think about the smoke. I miss the cool rush of menthol. I miss having something there 'only for me.' When I wanted a cigarette, they were there. And if I couldn't get to it right away, by God they were waiting for me. That kind of consistency is something smokers like to cling to, I would guess. I know I sure did.

But dear GOD it is hard. As difficult as former smokers tell you it's going to be, you begin to wish it was that easy. Day one is just surreal. You feel like you are missing an arm or something. It just feels like something is not right in your world. If you quit in the morning...by the end of the day, you have a splitting headache, and you start to feel a little 'edgy.'

Day two is by far the worst. AT this point, your body has been deprived of something it has had on demand for, in my case, 20 years. And your body is seriously pissed off. And your mind begins to play tricks on you, and your hormones begin to do a coup d' etat on your brain. Your moods go from right to left...up and down...backwards and forwards. You just have no sense of who you are...you aren't a smoker...and you still smell like one so the non-smokers don't wanna claim you...and you can't possibly explain to anyone what it feels like...all the while you just want a couple of puffs to take the edge off. You are distracted. Your brain just does not work. Period. You do however know that your opinion of murder might have been a bit harsh, and you can fully know the meaning behind 'justifiable homicide.'

And you end up getting angrier when you realize that you have done this to yourself.

You also begin to notice that you are getting the 'munchies' much more than you used to. Having 'quit' several times before, I was prepared for this. I am going through suckers like Paula Abdul through AI finalists, and I am NOT prepared for weight gain, I can tell ya. Sugarless Gum I have developed quite an affinity for (Altoids Sour Cherry gum is my personal favorite), and sugar free hard candies are now cluttering up my handbag. Great...no lung cancer...but I'll be diabetic!

Another nice little aside is that the withdrawel process has heightened my already fully charged cynicism. I find my temper is shorter, and my patience is non-existent. I shudder to think of the opinion of the insurance people who have had to deal with me as I try to get them to explain the rational behind NOT covering one kind of medication for two months as I ride out the rollercoaster of addiction...but they will cover it if I'm just garden variety depressed. They will provide me with sleeping pills to combat the raging insomnia that quitting throws you into...which is nice, because THAT I can overdose on, and it's highly addictive. But nice to know they want me to have a good night's sleep!

I am wondering why I put myself through this. I can smoke and smoke, and I probably wouldn't notice any seriously bad health effects for quite a while. I'd have a part of my identity back. Maybe I wouldn't have to take the time to actually figure out my problems instead of taking a smoke break.

But then I look at things like the money I am saving. That my mother said I inspired her and she might quit smoking, possibly to live a few years longer. That the man I love and who has been an unwitting target for all my misplaced venom and rage might actually not have to nurse me as I sicken from God knows what diseases I would have been at risk for. That I will have more control over my life than the 20 cigarettes that used to be my constant companion.
And I tell myself I only have to make it through not smoking today. That makes it a little more bearable.

I would ask that, if you know someone who is trying to quit, or who is on the verge of it, by all means, please be patient and understanding of them. Know that there are things happening internally that they are trying to control, but just can't. That it will pass, and they will regret their tantrums and what they have done to themselves. That your friendship and understanding is appreciated more than you know.

And that they will gladly kill any of your enemies for a cigarette.