"These days, when someone smokes in the movies, they're either a psychopath... or a European."

I started smoking when I was 14. I was bored after school, and someone gave me a cigarette, so I took it home and smoked it. I got all dizzy and funny feeling. I remember that day, but not the ones following it. Why did I do it again? Where did I get them? No clue. But I wonder often how my life would be had I be able to resist that temptation. I quit smoking when I got pregnant with G. I didn’t know what to expect, I had never been Adult Me without smoking. I was never an ‘I’m quitting this weekend’ type of person. I loved it; I didn’t want to stop, so why pretend otherwise? It was the hardest thing I’d ever done purposely in my life. Getting a compound fracture sucked worse, but I didn’t do that on purpose, it just happened, you know what I mean? I really think being addicted to them changed the chemical make up of my brain. I was depressed when I quit. I was angry, and easily stressed out, and it didn’t just go away for me. In my experience, there are 3 different versions of a former smoker; 1. The Lecturer. They are a fun group. They like to inform you of how bad you smell, that you’re ruining their air, killing yourself and those around you slowly. They cough dramatically and make comments like “I can’t believe I stunk like that for so long.” Then they tell you how wonderful they are because THEY smoked for X amount of years and were able to stop, so YOU can too. You just have to really want it. They aren’t lying about the really wanting it part, that much is true, you have to find a place inside yourself to help you through that. But Jesus Christ! Is it really so hard to remember that they were once the once inhaling that sweet smoke and enjoying every minute of it like 6 months ago? I just don’t think they are in a place to lecture others about how bad it is to do what THEY did for X amount of years. 2. The Begrudging Quitter. These are the people that have to fight the urge to abandon their grocery cart containing their small child and food to lick the face of the toothless transient sitting outside the store smoking in an attempt to ingest whatever nicotine may have fallen upon his facial hair scrabbled skin EVERY DAY. I might be this one. Good lawd cigarette smoke still smells wonderful to me. If it wasn’t for babies, I would not be able to quit. No joke. I LOVE the way it tastes, feels, the instant relaxation and calm, it’s beautiful. I used to make mental deals; I’m a good person, I exercise, eat right, don’t drink a bunch, (that was before I drank a bunch) can I please have this one thing?! But that’s not how it works. And babies are more important than happiness in deadly stick form. 3. The Serene Quitter. I think this one might be more of a myth. I thought I knew 2 people that managed this state, but one of them recently told me that she actually felt more like The Begrudging but was able to hide it well. Either way, they tell everyone how much better they feel, while at the same time saying; “Go ahead and smoke, it doesn’t bother me, I don’t even have the urge anymore.” They’ve replaced their habit with carrot sticks, (or 6 layer chocolate cake) and smiles, not thinking about nicotine at all anymore. I wish to achieve this someday. I didn’t smoke for 2 years and I thought about it every day. The first month was torture, then after that it became just an underlying subliminal message to myself, *wishIcouldsmokewishIcouldsmoke* Quiet, not screaming, just there. Also, it helped me poop. When I picked up my first cigarette after all that time, it was like coming home to Me again. I like my personality under the influence of nicotine. I like how I feel. I do not like cancer though, so I’m effed. Obviously I quit again. More chance of miscarriage and birth defects while smoking, I didn’t need help in that department. I do credit smoking for helping me get through the first few months of our loss. As evil as they are, I needed that chemical boost. I didn’t get my habit up to where it had been, so it wasn’t AS bad quitting the 2nd time. I would like to think that it was the last time I’ll have to quit. I tell myself that it is. My mom smoked on the sly, and when it came to light I was smoking, she didn’t tell me to stop, because she felt it would have made her a hypocrite. We have different opinions on how to deal with that now. I’m not saying she could have stopped me. I was an obnoxious teenager, and I would have probably ignored the shit out of her. But some effort in the healthier direction would have been nice. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to CAUSE my child(ren) to lose their mother. And more than that, I want my kid(s) to become adults without ruining their brain’s delicate chemical balances, skin, lungs, and whatever else it does to us. So I hope I can stick it out. But for now I’ll look longingly at the crowd gathered right outside various buildings, remembering how it was. *Guts up date* I managed to go a whole week without seeing the doctor, yay me. I mention this b/c I almost called like 700 times. I’ve been having contractions, not painful ones, and not like all day. Just enough times during an hour’s time every couple of days that I look at the phone and wonder if I should call. But I know if I do, they’ll just tell me to come in. They’re not going to tell me over the phone everything is fine. And that would mean I’m going in weekly and at some point I’d expect a letter from my insurance saying; if we send you to effing therapy will you STOP going to the vagina doctor?!! To which I’d have to say no, but can I have both? The contractions do stop every time, some days are better than others, so I’m just holding out till next week. Appt on Thurs. I can do this.