When I said the other day that I felt like I was still in the process of quitting smoking, I meant it. Though it has been nearly one year and nine months since my last cigarette, staying smoke-free is an ongoing battle, and lately, I’ve been feeling particularly weak. I think it’s a combination of things, mainly, stress about my stupid plan, coupled with the temptation to sit on a porch in the summer sun and read and smoke the day away.

Occasionally, I’ll think, hmm, I could have a cigarette. Just one won’t do any harm. Just one will be nice. Then I remind myself that one is simultaneously too many and not enough. I was a chain-smoker. A pack a day, for nine years. There is no way I could have just one and be satisfied. Nope. Won’t work.

I saw this article this morning about having just one cigarette, and it definitely hit home with me. I remember my first cigarette. It was wonderful. I coughed, sure, but it felt like coming home. As stated in the article, that first cigarette was truly a “highly rewarding” experience. I loved it and I loved them. That’s why it is so incredibly hard to quit and stay quit. I have so many positive associations with smoking. I miss them.

Argh. My brain is tricking me. Just got to take it one day at a time. It is worth it.

Also, articles like this one piss me off.