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No Intermission

Storm.3.1.14
Member
0 16 35
  It just goes to show that “the seasons of quitting” are real, and that it takes some time for all the old smoking triggers to rotate around.
   
  This weekend, I attended a playwrights’ festival at a local college. While I do enjoy live theater, I have not been to a performance since I quit smoking seven months ago.
   
  Well, as I approached the steps of the building, there was a flock of smokers standing outside, puffing away at their cigarettes while they could, before they went inside and had to sit in a smoke-free auditorium. 
   
  And some little “itch” bristled inside me as I remembered how I used to be one of them. I used to slip off behind the theater, away from prying eyes, so I could smoke, unseen, behind the dumpster. Scared that someone I knew would drive by and see me, but not so scared as to just skip the cigarettes.
   
  Seated inside the theater, in front of the stage, I was so thankful that I did not smell like cigarettes. It was always so embarrassing and shameful to get situated for a show, knowing that the people to my left and right could smell the tobacco smoke on my jacket, slacks, shirt and tie. We’d all be dressed up for an evening of fine arts and entertainment, but I was smelling like I’d just wandered in from a honky-tonk pool hall. 
   
  The dean of the college’s drama department took the stage to open the show, and she said, “Because the plays are all short, they will only take about an hour and a half to run, so there will be no intermission.”
   
  Whoa! The little “itch” inside me bristled again, and ran down my spine, all hot and prickly. “No smoke break?!”, it cried. “For 90 minutes?!“ Oh, my goodness, I confess that that “itch” took me by surprise! 
   
  What the…?! Oh, geesh! Where the heck did   that come from?!
   
  I took a deep breath and chuckled. I just   had to chuckle. And shake my head. "Oh, you poor, addicted brain. You'll be okay. You're safe and protected and loved."
   
  I haven’t been through all of my “seasons” yet, so bumping into an old trigger situation like this was bound to happen. And that’s okay. I aced it. Didn’t really see it coming like I guess I should have, but it happened…and I aced it.
   
  Because, what was I gonna do,   smoke over it? Ummmm, no. Get over it, yes. Smoke over it, no.
   
   
   STORM: 262
   
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