Quitting. The Seventeenth Month.

I now rarely have thoughts of smoking.  But when they do occur, there is no urge or craving to smoke, rather more introspective and amazement that I was able to accomplish quitting smoking for the 2nd time in my life.  Both times cold-turkey on the first try.

I wish that I had kept up with my chronicles during the past 17 months, but I quit because I found that it really was counter-productive to talk about how much I wasn't craving a smoke, because it reminded me that I was quitting smoking, which made me crave a smoke.

I do remember, though, that around the 2nd to 7th weeks were the worst. Depression. Lack of focus. Just lousy, crappy, dreadful. Awful.

Then, I turned a corner around the 8th week. I owe it to reading Psalms and praying.  I'm not a scripture quoting person, don't go to church (although I am a Christian) and can probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of times I have actually read the Bible. But that night, after 4 nights straight crying, I was so low and despondent that I took the Bible out of my hotel room night stand and started reading Psalms. I also prayed, saying that I could not bear any more, and asked for help. It's really strange to describe, but the next day I awoke with a feeling of freedom and optimism.  It was a euphoric feeling.  If someone else told me this story, I would be the first to say that it's BS, so I don't mind if you say the same to me.  I can only say that this is how it happened.