It's been 48 hours without a cigarette. I've been here before. I can't tell if it's better or worse this time. It's certainly unpleasant. I don't know. Maybe it's not that bad. I'm not bouncing off of the walls this time.
I'm banking on the fact that I've been here before. It's rare that I've ever gone the full 12 months of any calendar year smoking the entire time. I've been here before. I can do this.
I don't want this affecting my health. I've got that stage instinct that, "Hey, it's time to stop." I want to run two miles in 12 minutes again (which is totally possible, by the way). I've dodged catastrophe. It's time to leave the table while I'm ahead, which is hard to do because temptation lies around every corner.
I had quit smoking when I moved to Austin. I was six months tobacco free when I got here. What made me start again? Working at the AT&T Call Center. Hell, that job's enough to make people smoke crack, much less cigarettes.
I had the monkey off of my back and then I started again, That begs the question: when are you really "over it?"
It's been 48 hours, heading to 72. I've still got a lot of life left to live; still got tons of goals that I want to achieve. It's time to take my health seriously. I'm getting off lucky. This shit killed my Dad's parents. I'm not going to let it get me.
Sorry about the ranting and raving. Here's some motivational music:
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