Today marks two years since my last puff off a cigarette. Two years since I decided, "This is it. I am done with this forever." Two. Whole. Years. Let me tell you, I have been through some gnarliness in my 27 years, but this was by far the hardest thing I've ever done. No joke. I started when I was 16 and it sort of became something that defined me, which is ridiculous. I was known in my social circles as everything from the standard "chainsmoker" to "Human Chimney", and smoked close to two packs of full-flavor 100s a day. Needed a smoke? I was sure to have one (or twenty, or 200...)!
I'm not really sure what the catalyst was that pushed me to finally kick the habit. I had tried about ten times before and only actually successfully quit once when I was a teenager, but started right back up. It may have been the prices going up dramatically, it may have been me becoming bored with it. Who knows? What I DO know is that the withdrawals brought on the worst panic ever and poor Terry had to deal with the brunt of my emotional outbursts. I don't think I the cravings even started slowing until about two months later (WITH patches, that's how hardcore I was!). So glad I did it, though, it was more than worth it. So here's my public pat on the back! What a crazy milestone, I NEVER thought I'd be able to do it!