To smoke or not to smoke is not the question

If I was in my right mind when I picked up my first cigarette at age seventeen, well I would not have gotten that far. And neither would most. But at Seventeen life is forever, or at least death is so very far away so that what I knew to be risky behavior just didn't matter. Sickness and suffering were scary stories to me at 17,  just something that may happen if I ever age.

Now I'm 58 and counting. Three and a half years ago I quit smoking--no longer young, not so resilient, weary of heroism and tired of big changes, still,  I gave quitting a second chance. It worked. But it cost me something to change, I lost an illusion of comfort and protection that as a smoker was very real to me. By choosing to quit for good (my best intention), I had to take the discomfort of quitting. That's when I discovered the deep roots of addiction--a bottomless pit of want. But my sincere commitment to quit, uttered when I was smoking, came back to test my addict mind...smoking was what I'd known for most of 37 years. In time, I discovered to my dismay that  there was no going back to my comforting illusion. I had to forge on to see what lay ahead! Lord, did I miss my happy delusion, my smokes, the whole shebang. Couldn't I smoke and quit at the same time, I joked.

 I have to admit that I did not just lose the comfort of a pleasant delusion, I gained something, too, though slowly and very grudgingly at first: an inner strength--something that is innate to most at birth--the ability to learn something new, to adjust, grow and adapt day to day. To that end, inner strength in trade for a delusion? I know I made out O.K. I made it past the addiction.

Here's to another 3.5 years of smobriety. "Eternal vigilance" and willingness to grow are always on my quitting to do list.