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Carolyn
Quit 4,653 days ago

Fear of the first step, self-loathing..... Victory!

December 5, 2018
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Excellent repost. Quitting is doable and there are tons of pluses to being quit - you see them once the smoke clears. KTQ Cara D4648

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Subject: Repost - Fear of the first step, self-loathing...Victory! From: RustyKnight5 Date: 2014-11-04 21:43:56 Message: Posts go by asking what the secret to quitting and staying that way is. There really is no secret and I think that most know that before they ask. Everyone looks for the easy way just like we do with everything else in life. The magic bullet. There is none. The only way to quit is to quit. Pure and simple. So. The very thought of waking up and not having a pack of reds waiting for me was just alien to me. It gave me a odd feeling in the pit of my stomach to consider life without them because smoking is in fact a way of life. To wake up and not have any smokes in the house. What if?!!!!! I can almost see a 7-11 from my house so if the sky cracked open because I had no smokes I could run up there, buy a pack, rip it open, light one, suck in a huge ball of that stinking, burning poison and save the whole ****ing world from disaster.......whew. Incredible the power they have over you isn't it?

Two years ago today I got up at 6am. I put on my robe and walked to kitchen. I got the same coffee cup I always used out of the cupboard. It was white ceramic and had the prettiest little painting of hummingbirds on it. I poured myself a cup of coffee. I went and got the paper off of the porch. I walked back into the house and sat down at my desk. On my desk was a pack of Marlboro reds. Beside the pack was my ashtray with last night's butts in it and an empty Coors can. I sat my coffee cup down and reached for a smoke. The pack made that familiar crinkling sound as I picked it up. I shook it to get one over to the opening. I tapped the pack on my hand to slide one out. I didn't pull it out. I can't say exactly what struck me at that moment and made me stop and think about what I was doing. I tore the top off of the pack and counted. Twelve. Maybe the sound of my wheezing hit me? It is quiet enough in the house in the morning that I could hear it. Every breath. In, out. I can't explain the sound. If you smoke, you know what I mean. Or you will know. My head pounding from a hangover, my chest tight, my liquid wheeze, my shaky hands, the stench of that ashtray that came barging through even my smoking dulled sense of smell, the ashes all over the desk, the little bullet shaped burn marks on the desk, ( how fitting ), the yellow film on the windows, walls, ceiling, and everything else in the house? Because my kids did not like to come in and say goodbye to me in the morning because after just a couple minutes in there they stank like smoke too? Even the cat smelled like stale cigarettes. I stopped, I stared at it for a while. Then I crushed the pack and I threw it away. I threw the ashtray in the can and watched the cloud of ashes rise and fall. I was scared. So scared. High dive scared. Having to speak in front of a crowd scared. Sick feeling in my stomach scared. I bowed my head and I prayed for strength. I felt like I weighed a ton but I got up. I pulled myself away from the desk. My god that was hard. I took a shower and I went to work. I made it through that first day, and then the first weeks by using patches to take the edge off and keeping busy. Not just "busy" but manic busy. Nothing felt right, my whole routine was screwed up. I was angry. I was depressed. That feeling eased up. Slowly,surely. I just kept going and I made it. I did not smoke. It was me against "it". Me against RJ Reynolds. Me against nicotine and all those chemicals they add to hook you and keep you. I won. I beat it. I beat them.

I have a friend who is killing himself. He has emphysema. He has 40% of his breathing capacity left. Yet he keeps smoking. He looks bad, the pallor, the labored breathing. If he quit now he could turn alot of it around. Even when faced with a certain, slow, and horrible death fear of that first step keeps him smoking. I have lost faith in him ever quitting. I don't say that to him of course but I have. I am trying to prepare myself for losing him. I know it's coming and it breaks my heart. Why won't he even try? Because of that first step. That huge, seemingly insurmountable first step. He is so afraid of that first step that he is more afraid of it than death it seems.

The key is taking that first step. Pushing past that initial wall of fear. Just don't light that last cigarette and then never stop fighting. Never give up. There is only one way to quit and that is to quit.

Today I got up at 6am. I put on my robe and walked to the kitchen. I got the same coffee cup I always used out of the cupboard. It is a white ceramic and has the prettiest little painting of hummingbirds on it. I poured myself a cup of coffee. I went and got the paper off of the porch. I walked back into the house and sat down at my desk. There are no ashes on my desk. No stinking ashtray. I don't wheeze. I feel strong, not sick. My kids smell like kids. The cat smells like a cat. Life is good.


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  • tman55
    Quit 1,692 days ago
    5 days ago #

    What a great read to start the day!!

  • Terry1963
    Quit 178 days ago
    5 days ago #

    I agree tman. A great read. Thank you Carolyn

  • m
    m.m.
    Quit 1,562 days ago
    5 days ago #

    Never want to have that feeling again. So N.O.P.E. for me. My daughter hopes to stay at my sisters for Christmas. My house smells like death and my honey looks like death warmed over. After a childhood of exposure she finds it hard to stay in my home for longer then a dinner. I have a tolerance for it but others don't. We have only hosted Christmas once. We live out of town and our house stinks. Sad but true.

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