I've made it a week! I think I used a different technique than has been suggested. I left all my smoking gear on the table outside within easy reach. Bizarrely it was a comfort to say to myself hey, if you want a cig you can go right in out and have one. But you don't want to. So don't.
Yesterday I moved my gear a little farther away, to the side of the house. It's still there if I want it, but I don't want it. The monster craves have struck and I've imagined going right on over an lighting up. I've envisioned the smell, the smoke irritating my eyes, the crap going into my chest. And I don't want it. It was never a pleasure. It was never a stress reliever. It was always me acting like a child and doing something "bad" just because I could. My asinine behavior made me into a trained monkey for tobacco companies, pressing the button to get my nasty disgusting fix. It wasn't a treat, it was me, brainwashed, being manipulated by a chemical produced by a company that is actively trying to kill me.
Time to grow up. Time to refuse to be ruled by a disgusting piece of paper filled with weeds. Ridiculous. Only 7 days but I've come a long way, baby.
Last updated 46 minutes ago by Moni
