Bear with me here, folks. It's been a tough few days.
Even though I prepared myself for this, even though I read and read and read about what would be happening, I was not prepared for how ....... fragile ...... I would feel.
I suppose it doesn't help that I chose as my "quit day" possibly one of the worst days ever to try to quit smoking, but then again, any day would have been a tough day.
I was surprised at how little actual physical "withdrawal" there was, and absolutely amazed at how strong a hold psychologically the addiction has on me. I think about smoking every. single. second I am awake. I counter those feelings by reciting (in my head) the facts, but still, it's exhausting. I just want to think about something else for a while.
The book "The Easy Way to Stop Smoking" by Allen Carr is the only reason I've made it this far. No, it's not "easy", but it is "do-able" (I hope), and I really recommend this book if you're trying to quit.
Fragile. That's how I feel.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
Ah, but strong enough. Strong enough. Congratulations and good job.
Keep thinking of the bigger house and garden you're going to be able to afford now that you're saving a couple thousand bucks more a year. And you'll be able to hike more and longer. (I found health benefits too abstract for immediate motivational help. It was "doing what I want to do and enjoying it more" and "spending that money on other things I like better" that helped me make behavioral change.)
I'm really proud of you. I can only imagine that fragile feeling, but I think we probably all have things that we do that make us feel better in some way. It's what we turn to when we're bored, nervous, scared, etc., and if we don't have it, suddenly we're exposed because there's nothing separating us from that moment. I know you can do this, though, so keep it up. We're all rooting for you.
Fragile, but stronger than my died who died of lung cancer (He was still smoking, by the way).
You know what's the craziest thing? I know this is insane, but I actually feel grief. Grief over the loss of a thing that's killing me! That's f*cking nuts.
I guess I'm starting to understand how deep this thing has its hooks in me.
I totally understand the grief part. The only time I cried out of "oh pity me" during the initial part of my big weight loss is the moment that my nutritionist joked that "well, now you just have to do this for the rest of your life!" She meant it to be funny. It felt like I had been pushed off the gallows, though -- a whole life painted in various shades of denial? Of being defined by what wasn't going to happen? I just wailed for the loss of a "choice" that wasn't really a choice but a defense and a compulsion and a habit and ultimately turned into something that was killing me.
It's a big change. You're doing it but you don't have to do it all at once. Just today.
I stopped smoking after attending an Allen Carr seminar on just how to do that. My mum did too; so it DOES work! Keep your chin up!
I just wish there had been a "How not to eat like threr's no tomorrow" seminar on directly afterwards.
We are all with you!!!
Post a Comment