Maybe this was the push I needed. Doing the math, finding out exactly how much we spend on cigarettes a month, and realizing how that money could help in other areas. I've been meaning to quit smoking. Been wanting to quit smoking. The kids have expressed their desire for us to quit. And maybe this is the time. Smoked my last cigarette last night.
I layed in bed awake for a while, making a mental list of all the positive things that will come out of no longer smoking:
1. more money stays in the home
2. I can smell my shampoo again
3. I'll be more inclined to keep the house clean [nic-fits are a b*tch]
4. The kids will be very happy
5. My clothes will smell better
6. I won't be controlled by something
7. And I can *punish* myself by taking a walk around the apartment complex whenever I get the urge to smoke... that'll keep the weight off, and maybe I'll even lose those last 30 pounds I've been wanting to shed.
I fell asleep feeling empowered and ready to kick the habit. But then this morning... heard Bret's alarm go off, felt him roll out of bed, heard the toilet flush and the microwave zapping a cold cup of coffee. And I suddenly felt the urge for a smoke. Dammit, what am I doing? This day is gonna suck a**.
I got out of bed, with a little rough coaxing from Bret: ie. ripping the blankets off me and dragging me across the bed by my feet. Sat on the couch and ate a bowl of cereal. Bret nuked another cup of coffee and sat at his computer, fidgeting like a crackhead. Oh good lord, its gonna be a long day. I already made him promise he wouldn't leave me during this cold-turkey time. And he promised he wouldn't, if I didn't hold it against him when he grunts and glares a lot more, speaking less and less. This first week is gonna be a nightmare for the both of us.
Encouragement people, PLEASE!!!
I need a hug.
