It’s officially been two weeks since I’ve had a real live cigarette.
Two. Half of a month.
I am not craving them either. I don’t miss my clothes and hair being full of smoke. I like not being completely broke.
Weirdly, the only thing I miss is the “rebellion” thing that made me a smoker in the first place. I wasn’t simply rebelling against my parents when I started smoking. I was rebelling against this systemic perfectionist thing that everyone wanted me to meet. Including myself. Smoking was this one naughty thing I did to say screw the establishment.
I can’t afford to screw the establishment that way anymore.
The bonus is that I’ve been able to take my little Meager income and actually do things this month. I’ve been able to purchase things and go out with friends. It’s been pretty awesome.
I still have my nicotine vices. I’m slowly weaning myself off of the e-cig and I’m using patches as well. If I know I’m going to be out and using my e-cig a lot, I don’t wear a patch just because I don’t want the extra hit of nicotine. I am trying to be mindful of the e-cig use though and consciously choose to use or not use it, and that alone has cut my usage in about a quarter of what it was.
There are so many studies showing a prevalence of smoking with serious mental illness and it makes sense to me. I also am a fast metabolizer of nicotine based on one of those genetic testing things they do to see how you process medications (I forget which marker is responsible for that right off hand).
So yeah. Regardless, I’m getting there. I will be happy when I am no longer nicotine dependent. I don’t like being a slave to anything really, especially not a drug like that.
Image from Max Pixel