Day 8

War.

That's what I declare on cigarettes.  War.  I broke down and smoked a cigarette and a half yesterday.   Them damn things have this suffocating hold on me.  Got It's long skinny fingers wrapped around my neck so tight, that I would do anything it tells me to do just to live.  But what an oxymoron.  Right?

Right.

So, war.  It's war against those little bastards.  It's not even about the moods, the physical withdrawals, or the "need" to smoke one to feel "normal " again.  It is now about being able to deny them.  Not even smoking when I want to or because I can.  My health is riding on my ability to quit and Stay quitted.  I remember one time I went to the doctor's for a check-up, she asked If I smoked.  I said, "Yes! But I cut down a lot!"  (This was long before I decided to quit) She asked me, "Well how many a day?"  I replied, "about 5 or 6."'

She looked at me as If I was crazy and told me, "Honey, those add up."  Ugh, hate you damn people.  Making me think outside the box.  Things had never been the same since then.  I obsessively thought on a daily basis that I needed to quit.  But then on the other hand I didn't want to.  So I tried the "cut down" method, Which only lasted a couple weeks, but always ended in me smoking more than when I started! 

So, dear cigarettes.  I declare war!

Stay blessed!

<3 Justina