Now This Is Really Jacked Up

Yesterday was pretty much the worst day of the week for me. Despite it being the day where every every Irishman like myself pays tribute to St. Patrick for bringing the Gospel of Jesus Christ to us after having been enslaved in Ireland for years as a child. Oh, wait- you thought there were snakes in Ireland? Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but there has never been any scientific evidence that would suggest there were snakes in Ireland. Myth busted. Anyways, so yesterday was a bad day, and you all might be wondering why...

Well, after some prayer and contemplation I came to terms with the fact that I do not will power to quit on my own. I decided then that I was going to give my dad my cigarettes. He puts one cigarette out on the table for me before he leaves for work, and then when he gets home he sets out another one for me. Knowing his son, and knowing how addiction works; the guy got smart and takes my cigarettes with him everywhere he goes so that I can't find them and take them back. How does this help me quit smoking? Firstly, it means I only smoke two cigarettes a day. That's pretty difficult because on a bad day, I'd probably smoke six to eight cigarettes, and about four cigarettes on a good day. Secondly, it takes control of my smoking out of my hands. I can't just grab a cigarette whenever I want. Believe me, sometimes I'd smoke a cigarette because I don't have much else to do. Those two things are intricately woven together and are what is helping me quit.

But what does all this have to do with yesterday? I'll tell you, as soon as I go and have a smoke. No, not really. Ok, not funny, I get it. Anyways, yesterday I woke up pretty late, about 10:00 and I went upstairs. I looked on the table and saw that my cigarette was all crinkled and deformed with something all over it. Upon closer inspection I saw that someone had drawn a skull and crossbones on my cigarette. The message was clear enough, but I was now down a cigarette since I wasn't going to smoke something that had been graffiti'd with marker. Who knows just how many more chemicals that would add to the list of deadly toxins that are already in cigarettes? I then struggled through the day, rifling through my dads stuff in hopes of finding my pack I gave him. I got so desperate that I actually walked around for an hour and a half looking for dropped money in common places where people drop things: parking lots, sidewalks, outside stores, and trails. I didn't find any money and my body was tired of walking around, so I was left with a mind full of rage. I did get to smoke another cigarette later on just before I went to bed, to replace the one I didn't get smoke that morning.

Today has been much easier, even though I still only had one cigarette this morning and I'll get one tonight; I feel more accustomed to smoking less. I pushed myself to wait until noon, although I only managed to make until 11:00. I have to laugh at my own foolish thinking though. I was sitting here thinking about quitting smoking, all the implications thereof and I actually got scared. What am I going to do with that extra five or ten minutes that I used to take just to smoke a cigarette? Will the friends I made from standing out in the freezing cold smoking still be my friends after I quit? Will it even be beneficial to have friends who smoke? It's stupid that I had these thoughts and more, because I actually had to remind myself that quitting was a good thing. It's as if I had actually forgotten for a moment that quitting was what was best for me, and I had to remind myself what God had told me about my smoking. I wasn't even having a Nic-fit, which is for those of you unacquainted with the term; the agitation experience a person has when they're craving Nicotine.

Anyways, I'm done here for now. Not a really impressive or thought-provoking entry, I know, but I just felt like putting it down.

Until next time,
De Facto