I can’t believe it. As of today I am one year smoke-free. 365 grueling days. 8,760 hours. And I did it.
Do I miss it? Of course I do. Did I gain weight? Pffft, yup…30 pounds if you’re curious. But, I’m currently in the process of working off those pounds and have 25 more to go. Would I ever go back? Not a chance.
I almost threw in the towel several times, especially during the first few months. I was irritable, angry, depressed, and climbing the wall with cravings. I didn’t know how to handle stress because cigarettes were my stress-reliever. I am very slowly, but surely learning how to live without them. I don’t think about them anymore when I get in the car or when I pour my morning cup of coffee. I have forgotten that feeling of wanting one immediately after eating.
In the first few weeks after I quit I was having a bit of of a hard time one day and was texting my friend, Craig. He told me I could beat this and stay quit because I’m a “badass”. Those words echoed in my head CONSTANTLY whenever I wanted to light up. If Craig thought I was a badass, well I had better damned well live up to that name.
And I did.
For a year now.
I quit for my kids so I’d be able to see them become adults and, God-willing, meet my grandkids. I quit for my husband who has plans for us to enjoy retirement together. And I quit for me so I could keep myself healthy before smoking made me irreversibly unhealthy.
I had my last cigarette at 1:00pm on January 22, 2018. As of 1:00pm today I have not smoked 5,840 cigarettes and have saved $2,014. And y’all are now stuck with me for 23 days longer on this Earth. Holy shit.
If I can quit, anyone can.