Eight days ago, I finally started what I have been saying I'd do for years: quit smoking.
I say started because I know this is a fight that is going to take a while.
I'm going to have to take this one day at a time. One week at a time. Hence my first post about it.
It's been a week since I smoked my last cigarette!!!
I always told myself that I could do that cold turkey. Just wake up one morning and quit.
Good luck with that.
Last year, though, several things pushed me to actually stop.
My sister mentioned - not for the first time - how the stains on my teeth and lips are more visible. Though I denied it at that time, I looked in the mirror as soon as I was alone. Yeah, my vanity kicked in.
Memories of mom never stop cropping up, and of course, her battle with cancer is part of those memories. I also thought of my grandpa, who died of lung cancer. This time, fear kicked in.
Then one day, I was smoking in the backyard when Eli showed up. He looked at me and said, "Nana, remember no smoking?"
That hit me the hardest. My nephew, whom I love with all my heart and want to grow up seeing me as a good model (or decent at least), sent a very strong message. I can't describe how I felt at that moment, but I knew for certain I was going to do something about it.
Late in 2015, I asked a friend to buy some nicotine patches - back then, I was already thinking of quitting smoking. I just never got around to doing it.
When I did get the patches, after New Year's Eve, I just thought, what the heck. Let's do this.
So here I am, one week smoke-free.
While I don't really crave cigarettes, I have to admit there have been a couple of moments when I thought a smoke would be nice. So I am not going to say the fight's over. That I am done with smoking for good.
What I am going to do is all I can do - take it one step at a time.
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