i quit cigarettes six months ago. pretty unbelievable.
i smoked a pack plus of marlboros reds a day. for half my life. it scares me even to write that. but like so many of my fate tempting feats, fear emerges only in hindsight.
it was a huge part of my identity. i held the flammable banner of tough talking sex drugs and rock n roll suicide liz high.
oh, and i fucking adored it.
25 years old was originally the smoking cut off (since that's around the time the body starts the slow biological descent cell-wise) but a fairly profound existential crisis and return trips to camp wackajobba kept me puffing away. in a way, after surviving my 20's, quitting smoking is kind of a cinch.
but i refuse to be the fanatical non smoker, for two reasons. first, it seems like an extension of my now, hopefully extinguished, smokers identity. second and most importantly, lifewise, instead of bouncing between familiar extremes, i'm trying to find a midpoint, dare i say, balance.
in short, i'm trying to grow up. taking care of my health is the most adult (and most difficult) first step towards being a big girl.
smoke 'em if you got 'em, by all means, but here are a few things that helped me:
pure vainIty
restorative yoga(assisted napping )
falling in love
that horrible allen carr book
nicorette
really really really wanting it
the sage advice: get off more on not smoking
channeling OCD i.e. using the powers of compulsion for good instead of evil
remembering there was a me who existed before smoking and hopefully will live much longer now as a result of getting back to her.
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