Okay, so I’m not totally serious about the title, but maybe I would if I could!
Someone commented in my last post, (Daniel, I believe): “Quitting in a stressful time could make it harder.” I turns out yeah, I completely agree.
I’m going through our kitchen renovation trying to keep my head up as well as keep my sanity with my kids. IT’S UNNERVING. All of it. The renovations, my kids, my husband, yeah, him. If anyone here is married, you totally understand the need for cigarettes, and I’m not joking. And if you’re a mother, you get it too.
I’m burnt out, no pun intended. All of this stuff is making me frazzled, exhausted, and mentally and physically worn out. Then I’m supposed to quit on top of it? Sure! Why not add one more flipping scoop of ice cream on my sh*t sundae?!
Well, now that I feel slightly better after that useless rant, you should know that I lost count of how many cigarettes I’d smoked during the Eagles vs Redskins game last night. What I do know, is that I have one cigarette left in my pack. So that’s nineteen.
Wow. Nineteen cigarettes in one day. That’s… a lot. When did I get that bad? It must’ve been somewhere between turning twenty-one and being legal to drink, and growing up. Life is hard. Whoever told you as a kid that growing up and becoming an adult is fun, lied. Okay, I’m exaggerating. But seriously, life is tough. Then you have these little elements like alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes to “help” you through, when all the while they’re really just crutches. (Hey, wait. Don’t crutches actually help you?) Anyway, what I’m saying is, everyone’s life is hard, like mine, and with cigarettes, you think they help you when in reality they don’t. Sure they may make you better in an angry moment or take care of that oral need when you’re drinking that nice, delicious, large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, but they also make you smell bad, screw up your senses, cause cancer, and oh yes, piss off your husband.
Nineteen cigarettes. In one day. What the hell is wrong with me?! Oh yeah, I’m addicted. D’oh!
So today, I’ll aim for eighteen. See now, that doesn’t sound so bad. As my baby cries for yet more Gerber crunchies (now there’s an addiction for you), my day seems a little brighter. I’m allowed eighteen cigarettes today.
Thanks Sitting Bull. Your plan has helped me today, a lot more than you’ll ever know.
Alrighty woman, breathe, drink your coffee, and maybe have cigarette number two. And get on it. Be your bad ass super mom self. Besides, you’re not quitting today.
*Image courtesy Flickr creative commons.