Today is November 28, 2012. On November 28, 2011, I quit the cigarettes. It was a Monday at 4pm; today is a Wednesday and pretty unremarkable (except a friend of mine did say something funny. He said, "I'll see you guys Thursday at the latest...." And I was like, "Tomorrow's Thursday.... So you'll see us tomorrow.")
Anyway, the main ideas of this log entry: Attrition; Self-deception; and Success.
My friends, this is a war of attrition. All of you who have quit smoking (and many of you who have friends that have quit - or worse frenemies) know what I mean: pain, exhaustion, self-loathing, distraction, and inevitably defeat.
Occasionally, I hate that I don't smoke. Maybe it's the part of me that listens to Katy Perry and wants to date the hipsters, but sometimes I still want to light up, or tell others that sometimes I light up. But that's just not true anymore; there is only used-to.
That's the attrition kicking in. It's what's left over when the nicotine can now only be found in your hair. So as not to be tempted by some cool potential Jean's-future-hipster-boyfriend into pretending like I've never been a quitter, i.e. tempted into smoking again, I uninvitedly tell everyone I meet that I quit smoking. No one really cares, but thankfully everyone is really nice and exclaims impressed and encouraging sentiments. I love the Midwest for this reason if no other (of course there are others - flannel, beer, snow, seasons in general, hipsters [mentioned above], cheese, and Prince to name a few).
Someone has to lose this war. And obviously, it will be bad if it's me. But here's the reason I shouldn't win this war: self-deception. I want to smoke cigarettes on my own terms. Mostly, I want to smoke cigarettes when it's socially convenient, i.e. at parties that are lame or at parties where cool people are smoking. So, if I conceptualize myself as a winner and that I have defeated tobacco, I run the risk of thinking, mistakenly, that I am now capable of smoking when I want, and then not wanting to smoke later. We can all see where this goes: one cigarette not followed by buying a pack will lead to another solo cigarette to another to another to buying a pack to share to buy a pack to hog.
What a frickin' waste it would be. I can't have anymore wisdom teeth removed, guys - they took 'em all! So let's not go there; I'll not be a deserter.
Ok, so that's the self-perception/self-deception predicament. But here's the reality: I won, bitches. Those cancer sticks can suck it, because I ain't suckin' on 'em.
I understand if you don't understand. Just think about the movie Inception. That is my mind, layered like dream-thievery. The deepest level has to keep fighting this war of attrition because, if I don't, greater weakness will be open to attack. But, surface level Jean can acknowledge that it has been 366 days without a cigarette and that it is exceptional. No patch or pill and no relapse.
This chick's got quitting down!
(Except when it comes to coffee, netflix, cookies, facebook, shoes, and cardigans).
