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Share your quitting journey

My Story

TheOldGoat-Joan
6 28 438

I was born in 1927 to a coal miner back up in one of the hollows of West Virginia. I had sporadic schooling at best.
I had my first cigarette when I was 10 years old. We rolled our own since "tailor-mades" were so expensive. Nobody ever said anything about us youngsters smoking back then.
I was married when I turned 12 to a young man named Jim. He was 21. He worked the mines with daddy.
I was expecting my first child when there was an explosion at the mine. My man and daddy both were killed that day. I was 13 then.
Momma and us girls took in odd washing and sewing.  I had a son 4 month after the explosion. He only lived a few hours.
I got married again a couple of years later when I was 15. Bob was a miner also. We had three boys and 2 girls over the next 8 years. In 1950 a coal shelf collapsed on Bob and crushed his chest. He was gone before they could dig him out of the rubble.
I married the last time in 1954. William worked in a factory. He was offered a position in North Carolina.
Two of my boys went to that war in Asia and were killed over there. Peter was shot and Jim Jr. was blown up in a mortar attack. I still don't like wars.
David, Mary, and Elizabeth all married and moved away. They gave me 7 grandchildren between them.
David was killed in an auto accident in 1978. A drunk driver hit his car head-on. His two sons were with him and died also. I still have his little girl to treasure when I get to see her.
William died in 1994 of Lung Cancer.  They told him he had it in March and he was gone by September. That October I stopped smoking.
I didn't have any gums or such. I just stopped. Every time I thought about smoking a cigarette, I thought of my dear William and lost that thought quick.
After a bit, I didn't miss the smoking as much. Over the years it has become a habit to remind myself that those things are the killers that took my dear William.
I met Larry a few years ago at the market when he was here in his truck.
My girls got me a computer and taught me how to use it. Larry called me and told me about this site he found after he had his surgury. He thought maybe I could help others if I came here. He is the one that suggested I call myself The Old Goat. I kind of liked the thought since I was so old.
I live alone now. The girls come visit when they can, and some of the neighbors stop in a lot.
Since I am now close to 88 years old, I get tired really easy. The damage to my lungs doesn't help much.
I think that is enough about me. I didn't ever mean to get so long-winded about all this stuff.
Please take advice from this old woman and keep those killer sticks away from your face.
Take care of yourselves.
Joan

28 Comments
About the Author
Gone but Not Forgotten. RIP - they leave a legacy of their quit journeys behind as road maps for future members, to prevent the pitfalls, provide the tools and show the hope and possibilities for success at overcoming this addiction at any age at any stage. Older than I will admit to. Just an Old Goat helping out if she can. I gave up my death sticks Oct. 21, 1994. Joan