I need to quit smoking again. I HAVE to, HAVE to, HAVE to quit. It is growing into a horrible problem – the chronic coughing, the smell, my heart problems. My husband says it’s even affecting my sleep – I snore so hard that I wake myself up. How gross. I remember listening to my husband’s cousin and my father-in-law sleeping in the living room, and they used to snore sooo loud. And I remember how they looked and you could tell how they felt when they woke up in the morning.
I feel that same feeling now, too. Like you could just die, you feel how poor your health is, you feel the lack of oxygen, the black lungs, the damaged heart, struggling just to keep you alive. You grow a determination to quit that very day, to never pick up another cigarette to your lips again.
And then you stretch and yawn and put on your clothes and have some tea and get through your morning routine, you start looking at those cigarettes again and thinking about them and you slowly start to feel your resolve fading away, softly and quietly so as not to spook you. And you forget about that feeling you felt, how strong it was, when you first woke up and realize that every bit of smoke inhaled was only killing you.
You have one, then a short while later you have another. And then it’s another and another and another until, even though you swear you only smoke half a pack a day, it’s only noon and you’ve smoked through a dozen already.
I can go all day without smoking at work. I can go a full 8 hours without lighting one up. But I’m thinking about enjoying one soon when it gets close to 3:00 pm. I start to anticipate it, I imagine the smell of it, the taste of it, the feel of it burning into my lungs, overpowering them, overtaking them with the suffocating fumes and chemicals and thickness.