On Saturday, my husband and I went to a surprise birthday party for my cousin, who just turned 30. The party was down in Virginia, so we piled in the car and headed south for the night. Usually long drives was where I'd smoke cigarettes with total recklessness, inhaling at least 8 cigarettes over a 3 hour period. But this trip was the first time I refrained from reaching for a cigarette out of habit in a usually smoke-filled environment.
Later in the evening, after discussing my quit with a few people, I decided to test my progress in a most dangerous way - by having two drags from a cigarette my husband bummed from a waitress. (As an aside, my husband quit several months ago, but indulges in the rare cigarette.) I'm a bit ashamed of myself for doing it. But rather than taking the cigarette and running for the hills to enjoy the entire thing in solitude, I gathered my courage and looked at it as a learning experience.
Drag number one reminded me why I smoked - I got that lightheaded, giddy feeling and felt myself relax in the familiarity of the habit. Drag number two reminded me why I quit - the smell that surrounded me like a cloud, my lungs screaming "Abuse!!", and the taste in my mouth that nothing short of a shot of Jameson's Irish Whiskey could alleviate. The cigarette was promptly discarded.
Well, I indulged in the shot of Jameson's, and toasted my cousin's birthday and myself - for remembering all the reasons I quit in the first place. Since Saturday, the urge to smoke has retreated to a far corner of my subconscious. And I'm feeling a little more like a superhero since I faced my fear and conquered.
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