On Sunday I celebrated one year of not smoking. I remember my last cigarette like it was my last...well, cigarette. I had gotten home from a business trip in California (I had not smoked the entire trip) and we went up to a neighbors to say Hi. She is a smoker, and I bummed one from her.
I don't remember enjoying that smoke (it was menthol), and I haven't had once since.
The truth is that it hasn't been as hard as I expected (this is the longest I haven't smoked since I started smoking when I was seventeen - BACK IN 1986)! I quit for nine months a couple of years ago, thought I had it beat, and started smoking again. Not all at once, but one here and one there. Before you know it, I was buying a pack again.
That's the difference between that time and this time. This time, I know I don't have it beat, but rather have it under control for the time being. This equates to not being able to have another. EVER! I can't take a drag. I can't bum one with the belief that I am good to go.
I've gained serious weight since I've quit...and I know that's bad, but I love the fact that I am no longer a slave to my cigarettes. Think about it, I no longer look forward to landing so I can run out of the terminal to smoke. I no longer stink upon my return into the house or the office after having a smoke. I'll get the weight taken care of at some point, but not having that tobacco monkey on my shoulder is a tremendous thing.
In fact, I don't like to even be around it anymore. Not because I dislike the smell...but because I like it a lot!
I guess that monkey is closer than I thought!