Then life caught up with me, as life is wont to do. I went through a breakup that was immediately followed by hosting a Christmas party. I was fine at the party; hung out outside with smokers and didn't cave. The morning after the party, I was the first one up in the house and started cleaning. I'm tidying up the patio, picking up beer bottles and what not and there it was - a pack of Camel Blues (my forever brand) with a single cigarette inside and a lighter next to it. No one in the house was awake. I hadn't smoked the night before and wasn't feeling hungover. Texas and all of its cigarettes and smokers was looming on the horizon. I figured if I was going to have a weak moment, better to do it sober and alone than under the influence and surrounded by smokers. My mistake was allowing the weak moment assumption in the first place. I lit it and took a drag. People say that smell is our sense most tied to memory, but the taste of that cigarette brought me right back to the tennis courts in Vistawood where I used to sneak cigarettes when I was about 12-13. It occurred to me that just as I wished I had stopped smoking then, this moment could be as much of a turning point if I picked it up again. I only took that single drag and put it out. I went inside and had to brush my teeth immediately because my mouth tasted so terrible. I didn't tell anybody until a few days later and put off the blog entry until the Houston hurdle was cleared.
My trip back home for Christmas went really well. I enjoyed not having to take breaks from family time to smoke. I remember all too well how crummy it felt to come back inside after a smoke break knowing how bad I smelled to everyone else. The bars were a test. As suspected, we spent a fair amount of time sitting outside with drinks, chain-smoking. Even though I tried to start each evening indoors, we invariably migrated to the patio despite the cold weather. I sat, surrounded by second hand smoke, drink in hand, and resisted all temptation. Go me! The taste of that single drag after the party was fresh in mind, and I knew I didn't need to smoke. Maybe I'm just being a little self-involved, but I also hoped that if my Houston friends (who know all too well how much I always smoked and loved smoking) saw that I was able to resist, maybe they would realize they could quit too. You know, lead by example and all that :) You CAN do it!
So Christmas break ended, and I headed back to SF last week. Last Friday was a really difficult day for me. I let down someone I care about a great deal, and I was feeling sorry for myself in the worst kind of way. After I left work, I wanted to stop and buy a pack of cigarettes more than I have since I quit. I was feeling especially pitiful and wanted to punish myself, but I didn't stop. I kept walking, kept trying to distract my mind as I had before. However, I also knew that my roommate had been smoking lately and there might be a pack waiting for me at home. Sure enough, there they were on the kitchen counter. Again, no one was home... I took a cigarette, went outside and lit up without hesitation. I smoked the entire thing with a co-mingling of absolute disgust and pure pleasure. It was just the sort of punishment I was looking for to match how shitty I had been feeling all day. When I went back inside, I stole another cigarette and hid it away for later. My shady addict behavior was in full swing.
A few years ago after my first quitting attempt failed, I had a similar reaction. When I started smoking again, it was with a vengeance. I smoked more than I had in years because I felt a strong desire to shame myself and my weakness. I needed to be punished for failing to quit, and I chose to punish myself by smoking more. Pretty disgusting, huh?
When I was home for Christmas, I was talking with a friend of mine who has successfully quit (and also happens to be a behavioral therapist), and she emphasized how important it was to not beat yourself up if you slip. To accept the mistake and move on. On Saturday, I was still feeling depressed, and I knew I had the smuggled cigarette from the day before so I smoked that one too. It didn't make me feel better; it made me sick. While lying on the couch with a stomachache, I knew I was ready to get back on the quitting train.
This wasn't a full regression, it was an emotional situation. I'm not a smoker again, but I did smoke. As of Sunday, my counter is reset and today is day 5. Unlike I had thought, day 1 this time around was not anywhere near day 1 two months ago. It doesn't feel like as much of a setback as I had thought, but I'm also being cautious not to take the indiscretion too lightly.
In terms of my plan, I must follow through as promised. I already bought myself the running shoes because I did make it one full month without a single drag, but the next prize doesn't come to me until March 1, two months from now. Also, I owe money to the mother fucking AFA, which, as my friend so well-stated, is essentially like funding a hate crime. This is definitely the worst part of the whole deal and another reason why I've put off the blog posting. I had to wait until payday.
One drag plus two full cigarettes in the month of December is $40. UGH! This sting will not be soon forgotten. Proof of payment is below.
I know this is a really long post, but I had to fully disclose what happened or else I'd feel like this whole thing was just a bunch of BS. To those of you who have been so amazingly supportive of me on this challenge, I'm really sorry I disappointed you. The past five days have been significantly easier than the first five, and I'm still committed to the goal. I'm just starting fresh... again.
