I quit smoking. I don't know when, exactly... after so many attempts in so many years to quit for good I finally one day just... stopped. I didn't keep track of when my last one was, I just stopped smoking. I don't even remember if it was late spring or early summer. If you can actually stand to *drop* something like that-drop it so completely you don't even remember when it happened-you're gonna be just fine. You'll be in great shape. Counting days is kind of a weird coping mechanism. It gives each day a sense of accomplishment but also a huge sense of stress. I don't like being aware of how time passes. It kind of freaks me out. Still, when I made my mute commitment, I found myself keeping track because it was the hardest thing I'd ever done and I needed to know where I was in the murky stretch of speechless time. And it was needed. And it was good.
I'm about to start counting again. I'm counting the days until they get to be so easy breezy I don't need to mark them anymore. I'm starting with today as day 1 for no other reason than I'm ready to feel better and I want to motivate myself.
Day 1 feels like a prickly cactus. Like bleary eyes and not enough food or water and too much nausea and too many bowel movements and not enough comfort and a big city hall sized door knocker masquerading as a heart beating hard enough inside my chest to knock me over at any moment.
I'm going to make a point of locating the tricky little devil who figured out how to pour lead into the chests of unsuspecting civilians and I'm going to tan their hide.
i've never quit smoking, but my experience with life long finger nail biting was exactly like this. i just kind of stopped and didn't realize it until i was confronted with having to cut them.
ReplyDeletewhen you write a book can i be the first to read it?
i'm actually a really good editor, but i don't need to do that unless you want it. i just want to read it.
<3 you.
--esth.