I guess the title pretty much says it all.
I quit two years ago for about three months. It was the hardest single thing I’ve ever done. Ever. Then, well, I was really stupid, and started again.
Since, I’ve tried to quit a few times. When I was in Ohio, I was dating a non-smoker but even with that additional support, I was never able to make it longer than three days.
When I returned to Colorado, I felt that coming back to the high altitude would be a help. I figured I’d just get out and walk, and start gasping for air, and that would enable my common sense to kick in. I’ve not made it more than two days.
Thursday will be my greatest try, and maybe my last. I’ll throw the ashtrays and lighter and matches and cigarettes away Wednesday when I go to bed. (Not even hanging on to the two or three smokes I usually keep in case I can’t get to sleep.) I’ll get up in the morning, put on a patch and not smoke. I’ve scheduled a class with my HMO for Thursday evening; I’ll go there and reinforce everything I already know, everything I’ve been telling myself for the last two years.
I’m 46 years old and I’ve been smoking for 32 of them. It’s time. Come Thursday, I’ll be done.