Over seven years now. Seven years, three months and counting. I wasn't prepared to quit, but I did. I did my way. I bellyached, moped, considered my life over, had a real operatic time of it. I believed all that at the time. Just couldn't see how I'd ever relearn life at the age of 54. Yet with each passing year I've done more than relearn life without the smokes, I've found peace of mind from hopeless helpless addiction--and I've regained my health. I didn't know how much health I'd sacrificed until I quit smoking, got stronger.
It's hard to imagine where I'd be if I'd not quit. I wouldn't be hiking mountains and hills, taking really long difficult walks. There so much I have now that I didn't then. Smoking is an addiction. I know that now more than ever. And to stop, well, a force greater than my addiction had to come alive.
It did. And I have it to thank. I walked the walk but I was never as hopeless as I felt. Here's to another day, a new year to grow more smobriety.
