I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the notice. I truly have the feeling I’m done forever. The idea of smoking is abhorring to me. But I know you’re right. You made me think of this little post from my old quit smoking site. Not totally apt for the point where you all are in your smoke free journey, but too good not to share. Maybe more for myself today. Day 2333. Have a good smoke free day all.
The Dragon is Still Hibernating
From MutinyFever on 1/14/2009 8:08:21 PM
Long, long ago, in a lifetime far, far away, I smoked just one. Bitter tears I shed when I realized the dragon Addiction still had a lair in my heart. I had thought him dead, after seven winters of starvation. Just one cigarette fortified him and he drew strength. With each puff he felt his claws, yawned his mouth, breathed his fire. The cinders that were his eyes began to smolder, and then he SEIZED ME.
After relapsing on my seven year quit, it took me two years to get quit again. I tried and tried to find the strength to quit again. A dozen tries in those two years. A dozen agonies ending in hours. I tried. I failed. Just one, I’d thought. I mock my own arrogance. So does the dragon.
I was healthy before the relapse, getting a cold every 3 years or so. In the two years of the relapse I had at least a dozen colds, and I developed a persistent cough. Hiking became a problem. I became more sedentary in general. I lost weight and muscle tone. I gave up my yoga practice, which I had been faithful in performing for 5 years. I grew more depressed, and had less in the way of coping mechanisms to relieve that depression.
The dragon loved it. Just one and my sense of self was crushed under his dictatorship. Death was to be my tribute to the dragon’s rulership. At last, though, I’ve reached deep within to find love. Love for myself, my wife, my family, my life. That love sustained me while the dragon roared. I have quit again.
Today is the two thousandth day of my quit. I wrote this long ago, but the dragon still is not dead. He is starving and weak again, but still he watches, still he waits. Just one, he whispers painfully with a long blackened tongue, his voice cracking, shuddering. Just one and I will have you again.
I’ve learned my lesson.
Michael