Back in my smoking days, a long time ago, over twenty years ago, my best friend from high school got married. At the rehearsal dinner, one of her bridesmaids had quit smoking fairly recently. Like within the past year.
She was one of those holier than thou, Oh My God, get away from me, smoking is so disgusting, how can you still be doing that to your body kind of people.
That’s not me.
I mean, I can’t imagine being a smoker now. Having to leave the room, sneak around, trying to hide it from people and the kids. Carrying gum, mouthwash and perfume wherever I go. Determining my participation in anything based on whether or not I’d be able to smoke or how long I’d have to go without a cigarette. Not having enough money to buy a pack of smokes and dumping $6.00 in change (mostly pennies) on the counter of the Mobil station.
I still love the smell of cigarettes. When I walk past someone who is smoking, I take a big, deep breath. Or three. I think it will always smell good to me.
But that’s enough for me now.
In the last thirteen years, I have smoked about five cigarettes.
The anticipation of them was always incredible.
But then the actual smoking of them was such a let down. They were gross. Completely unenjoyable. Nothing like what I remembered back when I was in the thick of it.
So I’m happy to have arrived at that place where, when given the choice, I wouldn’t even think of smoking a cigarette anymore.
It feels good to have gotten to that point.
Because I never thought I’d be able to quit. I used to be a heavy smoker.
Like close to two packs a day when I was in my early thirties.
Smoking was a part of me. It was part of my identity. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant five times in seven years, I dont think I would have been able to quit. Giving it up was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
But I was never like that reformed smoking bridesmaid.
Yesterday I shared this blog post on the Facebook page, and some people didn’t really like it. They found it to be negative and judgmental.
I get it. Not everyone agrees on everything.
I identified with many parts of it, which is why I shared it.
But just as with the smoking, I’m also not one of those I-quit-drinking-and-now-I -think-everyone-should-quit-drinking-kind of people, either.
I share my stories/struggles/experiences because I know I’m gonna need a whole lot of support if I’m going to succeed.
It’s also largely cathartic.
Plus, before I started writing yesterday’s blog post, I was like I’m not sure I really have a problem, and then after I was done writing it and I read it I was like HOLY SHIT WOMAN, what took you so damn long???
So every time I write a blog post I end up learning a little more about myself.
Anyway, I’m not here to judge anyone.
I wish I could handle alcohol.
But the truth is, I can’t.
I don’t care if you drink.
I mean, unless you are suicidal or a raging, booze guzzling, psycho who is putting other people (namely my kids or my family) in danger.
But I’m not trying to convince the world to live a life of sobriety.
I’m just choosing to share this newest part of my story, and maybe in doing so it will help a couple people along the way.