Quitter's Log 12/8/11

I’ve had soup and mac 'n' cheese for 6 days straight. And people like Shannon tell me they ate a hamburger the day following a tooth extraction. Ugh! Well, I want a cigarette! Can I have that? Is that a good idea?
Of course, I know the answers: no and no. Even a child can answer them easy as pie (the beauty of a leading question) but that’s the thing about addiction. It has nothing to do with knowledge. Not. A. Bloody. Thing.

Yesterday was bad. I was not happy with anything or anyone (except Sarah who managed to make me laugh at my cantankerous self) and, despite the fact that I recognized how badly I wanted a cigarette, I failed to see that it was my overwhelming urge to light up that made everything else feel like cheese on a grater. I didn’t fully understand what my problem was (aside from wanting a cigarette the way a bear wants honey even despite the stupid bees).

It has been my first legitimate bad day as a nonsmoker. Those first 72 hours, the ones everyone tells me will be the worst of it, had nothing on yesterday. I don’t know why it was easier in the beginning, but I think it has something to do with the surrounding circumstance. I knew I wouldn’t be able to smoke while in recovery, so I was only focusing on a chunk of a few days. Honestly, I only envisioned myself as a quitter for a week.

But now that week is over. If I want to smoke I can. There is nothing to keep me from what I want but myself. And so, logically I am angry with myself for being in my way. I didn't even realize it on my own; not until later that night when I was on the phone with Lizzie could I even try to articulate it. Speaking objectively from a health and wellness vista, this is a good point. Anyone around me would say things like “That’s great! You’re doing so well, quitting is so hard. I guess you were finally ready, huh?” And I’m like, “What do you know? I don’t want to quit. Not even a little. This is stupid.” I kind of feel like Barney Stinson. I’m constantly attempting to justify behavior that has no justification.

Whatever. The point is this: yesterday, I was mad (and I mean pissed) at myself for being strong enough not to succumb to cravings. Has any other quitter experienced that?