Gotta Remind Myself

As I type these words, it has been one year, two months, four days, twenty-two hours and nine minutes since my final cigarette.

Holy shit. And I want one. I'm not going to lie. It sucks. It's hard and worth every second of misery. I ran and ran and ran yesterday during my ultimate frisbee game and I could breathe. And damn, it felt so good.

I have to continue to remind myself of the harms of smoking, since, like a break-up with an old boyfriend, I've come to only remember the good times. The bad times: the phlegm, the hacking, the money, the stench....the feeling like an outsider. I convinced myself I liked that. I liked being able to escape from the party and hide outside with my thoughts. I liked having the prop.

Now I have a niece who will never even remember that I was a smoker. And that makes me really happy. She will never associate that smell with me and how I feel about her.

Anywho....just checking in.

Peace.