Fear factor

It's Friday night.
I love Friday next as much as the next twenty-something. Mine just looks a little different.
Because I am forty.

And trying hard to rewrite my definition of fun.

Typical Friday night before 6 days ago:
Hang out with the boy. This likely includes carne asada fries or pizza with a Disney movie (Aladdin last week!MY pick!!!) or something weird like zoo animals turning into zombies (this is a real thing. and also, manchild's pick). After manchild goes to bed, the hubs and I grab a beer (something NOT fancy for him - think Fosters or Mickey's - in a can the size of my face, and a Shocktop Twisted Pretzel for me. Because that is the best beer on the PLANET.)
We go outside, grab our smokes, settle in our chairs and proceed to talk for at least three hours. Minimum. We talk, we plan, we belly laugh, we give kisses, we high-five, and we dream a little more. Then we go to bed.

Friday night as Day 6 of NO SMOKING. What does THAT look like?

Well - we did not go into this decision unprepared. This life change was the topic of conversations many Friday nights.

We planned how we would stop smoking while we smoked our brains out.

You see, we've tried before. Or - Jeff has.
I am the one with the pitchfork and horns in this situation. I am the BAD INFLUENCE. He has done 6 days. He has done TWO WEEKS. And I'm outside like, "No one is making me quit. I'll smoke if I wanna." puff puff flick. puff puff flick.

That plan doesn't work. Not for us. We both had to or it wasn't going to happen. All. Nothing. All. Nothing.

And I didn't want to. I was adamant about it. I would quit when I was ready and you know, I didn't think I ever would be. Even typing this sentence right this second, I feel scared. I feel scared about not smoking.

Jeff wouldn't push me and he'd come back outside and we would continue.
Oh, I'd feel shame. For sure. What kind of WIFE doesn't support her husband when he wants to quit smoking? When he wants to better himself?
I'll tell you,
A selfish one. An addicted one. A struggling one. A scared one.
But I'd rationalize, and he would too, and the shame would crawl back into the mud it came out of. See you next time.
puff puff flick.

I started smoking when I was twelve. It started as pressure, for sure. Not the kind you would think though. I didn't smoke to "be cool." I smoked to disappear. It's a lot easier to disappear when you look like everyone else.
A year later I was living in a group home. We ALL smoked. To disappear. To be outside. To avoid slamming each other's heads against the wall. To not cry out our fear and rage. Instead we sucked it down. We sucked it all down.
puff puff flick.

And that continued for me for the next 27 years. Cigarettes became my bestie. Sure, I knew the dangers, I'm not an idiot, but those seemed far, far removed from me. Like a city on a continent I've only seen pictures of. I know it's real but I don't have plans to go there.

I smoked and I sucked it all down - abandonment, anger, loss, insecurity, fear, and fear, and fear. I inhaled deep and controlled my exhale out. I would not let these things beat me. I would not.

And even as I write this I wonder, who will be my friend? When all is quiet and everyone is asleep and my mind is goinggoinggoing and I am trying to pray and trying to feel and also trying not to, who will be my friend?


But, I can't think about that. I have to focus. I have to remind myself Jeff and I have a plan. We made a plan and part of that plan is, don't think too far ahead. And a second part is, we're going to feel it all and we're going to give grace and love like we're made with it. And another part is, we're going to learn how to talk, like normal people, we will learn how to talk. While doing dishes, and laying in bed, and walking the dogs. And maybe we will gain a little bit of weight but we are going to keep saying, You are BEAUTIFUL and You are STRONG, and so we will smile and keep going. I will do this. We will do this.
We have to.

The thought of losing Jeff scares me frozen. I could not bear it.
He started coughing a while ago. He started coughing and its been so long since I've heard the cough that I can't remember when it started. All I know is that sometimes he hunches over and he coughs so hard it reaches out and squeezes my heart until I think it might shatter. He coughs so hard he can't breathe and I hold my breath and not breathe either until he does again.
I found myself making deals with God, "If you let him be ok, I'll stop. I really will." And then I would light another one. I'm not very good at this deal business. I am good at fear.

Here's the thing. I had to decide which fear was bigger - living without my constant of the last 28 years or living without Jeff?
And Jeff wins. Jeff wins every time.

Maybe it's because we're forty now. Maybe its because over the past two months, two people we know have died and left us shaking our heads thinking, "What the fuck is happening? He was SO young!" Maybe it's realizing, this life is pretty damn precious and if I want it, I better live like I want it. Maybe its finally beginning to believe, I am worthy. I am worthy of not just surviving in this life,
but thriving in every second of it too.


And so, come. Come, new Friday night with food and movies and no beer and no smokes.
Come.
I am going to see you. I am going to face you.
And I am going to be OK.

2.85 Days and counting

I haven't smoked a cigarette in three days.
Well, 2.75 days. If I'm being honest, which I am.

The day is not over until I am in bed, eyes closed, and in the throes of REM. The day is not over until I see 12:00 glowing green. Then I can tell myself, "YOU ARE A ROCK-FREAKING-STAR."

I am fighting it. My stomach is aching from too many Hot Tamales. My fingers are nail-less and a few are a little bloody, but I am fighting.
I keep telling myself,
it's ok if you gain a few pounds. It's ok.
It's ok if you gain a few pounds and you have ugly, bloody hands. It's ok.

I try not to wonder too long if it really is ok because that stresses me out and that makes me think about smoking.

Focus on the good, right? RIGHTO!
(I've never said that by the way. Is that even real?)

Here is the good stuff.
I haven't had to wash my hair yet. I know what you are thinking - that's a good thing??
Ummmmm
Have you smelled a smokers' hair the day after?
It's bad. I can't tell if I look like Pigpen from Charlie Brown but I am sure I can sense the swirl of nasty around my head. Saving time and money and fears of being Pigpen. That is also RIGHTO!

But I will wash my hair tomorrow. Just because I like to be CLEAN.

I am getting rest!! Rather than walking to bed like a mummy at 10 or 11pm, I am practically leaping into bed at 8:30. Is this because I have nothing else to do and no conversations to be had with my husband?
NOPE.
It IS because if I don't get under these covers, if I don't shove my toes into the sheet that is tucked tight like a cocoon, if I don't tell myself,"Only crazy people get OUT OF BED to go light up," I will likely run as fast as I can out the back door and shove that skinny little stick into my mouth.

(sigh) This is not a pretty picture. I straight up sound like some kind of addict.

So, it's 8:30. With a book.
Which takes me right into the next BEST THING,
I am READING LIKE A STARVING PERSON.
(current book is LOVE WARRIOR which basically every woman, and man, on the PLANET should read)

Here's a marvelous thing though - I WAKE UP refreshed. Seriously.
AND AND AND
My morning breath has changed. YES. This is a fact.
Now - I have also switched toothpaste so a big shout-out to Thieves and all the essential oil lovers out there, but I am also thinking all the chemicals I typically suck into my lungs are no longer trying to escape through my wide-open (very possibly drooling) mouth while I twitch and slumber.
Do I want to suck face as soon as I open my eyes?
EW. NO.
But the morning breath has definitely gone down a notch.

Sunday was DAY 1.
Sunday night I was rethinking this whole "quitting smoking" business or at least seriously considering putting it off until Monday.
Some serious stuff happened Sunday. Stuff I wanted to talk about, ponder, ease in to - all while smoking.

But here's the thing - ISN'T THERE ALWAYS GOING TO BE SOMETHING??

Life does not wait. Life does not slow down and give us a breather. We have to make our change while we bob and weave. Change does not happen while we stand still.

So here I am. 2.85 days (updated!) I want one with every twitch in my fingers. Can you tell? I've never written with so many CAPS before!
But not today.
Not tonight. I'm going to bed. I'm going for FOUR.

XO