50 Days!

It's hard to believe I've made it 50 days without a cigarette. When I was smoking, there were hardly hours I'd go without one. The longest was probably when I was sleeping at night. But first thing in the morning, I'd be smoking again. That's what they tell you in the book. You never really satisfy that craving. You are always in withdrawl.

But I'm here. I'm me. But I'm still not me.. There's something still missing. Something elusive. Living without cigarettes is like losing a part of me. Yes, admittedly, a bad part, but it's still gone. I still miss it. I still want it back. I just don't want to smoke to get it back.

I can't tell you how many times I would think to myself, "If I just smoke one cigarette, I will be back to my old self again." But I know that's not true. I will be upset with myself and I will have to start all over again. And I will be back to that addict person I never really liked. The person who scheduled her whole day around smoking.

I just don't want to be nervous all the time. And what am I supposed to do with my hands? I'm trying to learn how to knit. And I'm doing some writing (long hand) to plan a book I'm going to write when I get a computer again. I thought work would be the hardest, and it is, but home is hard too. I don't know what to do with all the time. Exactly how long did I spend smoking? I still go to bed early and wake up early. Then I don't know what to do with the morning time. It's a strange endless cycle.

But I suspect I'll eventually get to a place in my life where I don't think about smoking all the time. When I don't feel the need to count the days. The hours. The minutes. I'll just be me. A nonsmoker.

Until then, I'll count the days and be proud of every moment I go without a cigarette. Until I find myself again....