I went for a six mile run when I woke up today. All I could think of while doing was that I could have never even gone half a mile six months ago.
On September 21st, 2009 I was pretty much a wreck. I was constantly sick, my old job didn't hire me back, I just moved into an apartment that was left a complete shithole by its previous tenants, and I was smoking about a pack and half of cigarettes a day.
After leaving Rock Bottom with my good friend B. Dep, I realized I had one last Pal Mal left in its crumpled red cigarette pack. Usually this meant: "time to go to 7/11 and spend 7-9 dollars on another pack." However this time, my conscious started to eat away at me. I had no job, no source of income. My dad's employment at his company was in serious question, my mom had money problems, and yet they were continuing to support me by giving me all this spending money, 90% of which went to cigarettes.
Usually, I put these kind of thoughts out of my head when I plop another chunk of money down for nicotine, but this time my concsious finally got me. It was screaming at me not to do in there and do it. All I could think about was how shitty and horrible I would've felt if I actually went into that 7/11 and paid the clerk -- who at this point knew my name cause he had seen my ID so many times -- for yet another pack.
I couldn't. I didn't. I just lit up my sole remaining Pal Mal and continued walking with B.Dep. Once we got outside Piano Row, she waited for me to finish the cigarette.
"Pal Mal?" she said then added sarcastically, "Classy."
It was around then I looked at my reflection in the Piano Row mirrors and was just disgusted with what I saw. My face was terribly pale and the only color I had left on my face was the acne that I was breaking out with. I looked frail, hunchbacked, and weak. I remembered waking up that morning with a horribly scratchy throat and conjested chest. I remember back when I was living at 38 Park Vale coughing so violently in my room I made myself throw up. I couldn't believe that I haven't even made it passed age 21 and my body was already breaking down on me. I knew that I couldn't have it deteriorate any further. Yet, I also knew it was going to be a long, uphill battle for me to pull myself out of the slump I had put myself in.
"Yo," I told B. Dep, and then with a bit of a grimace on my face "This is my last cigarette. I think ever."
B.Dep actually seemed to believe me. However I had made this declaration so many times before that she was gonna be the only one of my friends who had any faith in me actually doing it.
It was only three hours later I was going through horrible withdrawls and begged my friend Connor for a cigarette. He gave one to me. I came so close to smoking it. I think I even put in my mouth. And then, as if I had no control over my right hand, I crumpled it up and threw as far into the Boston Gardens as I could. I got on the T, went home, and immediately went slept.
The next week was about as horrible of a week I've ever had. I honestly felt like I've been shooting heroine all my life and going through withdrawls. I was literally in physical pain and I thought that, fuck it, it's not worth it.
And yet, I continued on. No matter how bad it got, something kept keeping me from smoking. I remember seeing one of Vinny's cigars in the living room and coming close to lighting up, but as soon as I was about to light it up, I kept thinking of how shitty I would feel if, after all this time, I gave up.
And so I went. For two miserable, horrible weeks. I felt like a zombie. Then one day, on the C line, something happened. I felt something I haven't felt in a while, if ever. I felt totally free. Yeah, I still wanted a cigarette, yeah I still had some fits. But finally I felt like I no longer needed them.
And here I am now, six months from September 21st, right on the beginning of Spring and I can honestly say out of everything I've ever done, I've never been more proud of myself. I did what so many of my friends thought I couldn't do, quit cigarettes. And now, I feel like I could do anything. Things like staying in shape, eating right, getting up early to go work, and doing all of my homework seem like pretty minuscule tasks when compared to the quitting process. I am now sitting on my studio's deck, looking at the mountainous landscape of Los Angeles, and am and very excited about what I could make out of my life if I put in as much effort as I did to quitting.
If anyone who is reading this smokes cigarettes and thinks they are doomed to a life of nicotine, you're not alone, and yet you can totally overcome it. It doesn't take patches, pills, or hypnosis either. All it takes is, as corny as it sounds, is believing in yourself that you CAN and HAVE to do this. While you may feel down on yourself for smoking, just know that there is no better feeling in the world that knowing you've quit. I honestly mean that.
-Blog Quote: "Right now, hide your feathers on the back porch baby, he's coming home for you've been such a liar"
-"Feathers," Coheed & Cambria.
Peace children,
Andrew / Geno
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