I wrote most of this on Marilynhotgram's blog today and she suggested that I use it as a blog -- I thought about it and decided that it might be helpful to share how deeply in denial I was and how redemption is possible when the denial is gone.
I was diagnosed with COPD over a year ago and my addict brain insisted that I stay in denial. When my health insurance company called a little over a year ago to say they had resources for people with COPD I said "I don't have COPD." Seriously. I actually said that and believed it, despite the fact that I had labored breathing all the time, shortness of breath often, and could no longer walk up a flight of stairs. I continued to smoke.
It wasn't until this November when I actually saw my lung x-ray that the fog was pierced and I accepted that I had this disease. But did I throw my cigarettes away? No. I talked about quitting. I said I would quit when I finished the cigarettes I had (I used to buy them 2 cartons at a time). I cut down, and got to about half a pack a day. Then when I was running out of smokes about the middle of December my sister (who smokes) came to visit, and I said "well, it would be too hard to quit now" and bought another carton.
By Christmas I was feeling like I HAD to set a date, so I set it for New Year's Day. I smoked my last (and I really mean it) cigarette at 7:30 p.m. on December 31. I came to this site on New Years Day and never looked back. My smoking sister stayed until January 9, but she smoked out on my balcony and when she left she took the 5 packs of cigarettes I had left with her. My birthday was last weekend and I had a house full of smokers, but they all smoked outside. Nothing made me want to smoke. Today I went into a drawer in my home office and found a pack with 2 cigarettes inside. I gasped, and threw them away.
I know my journey is very much like others' and I look back on the fact that I smoked for more than a year after being told I had COPD with astonishment. But that's how powerful the addicted brain is when we're in the throes of feeding that adddiction. I know I never want to go back to that. So I can't cure my COPD, but I can make sure it doesn't get any worse. And I can stop seeing the world through the eyes of an addict. I think that's heading toward redemption.
Donna
