Dying has got to be easier than quitting

Hey Jakey,

What... is it Thursday already? And I'm actually posting a Thursday Thirteen on an actual Thursday.

I don't know why I've been having trouble with suppressing my vices lately. Maybe it's because I feel slightly better, less morning sicky than I have in a while. But lately, cravings for bad things have been blind-siding me and leaving me a bit shaken. Namely, it's cigarettes and alcohol.

Hi, my name's Kelly, and I'm a smoker.

[Hi, Kelly.]

I quit when I was pregnant with you. Well, okay, the day I found out I was pregnant with you, I drove out into the woods and finished off my pack (please don't ask me to tell you how many were actually in that pack) and basically quit until several months after you were born. And in the spirit of full disclosure (and because there are at least of couple of your aunties out there who read this and know me personally, and occasionally smoke with me...), I did lapse a time or two, but nothing to write home about. Mostly after you were born, when I was trying not to smoke because I was nursing you.

I started up again, because.... well, that's what smokers do. There are a thousand excuses, but not one good reason.

I'm being much better this time. Maybe that's why the cravings are hitting me that much harder. I have not had one single American Spirit blue since the middle of March of this year. Wow... just typing that made me want one.

Drinking. That craving hits me, but doesn't sucker-punch me, because I know I can drink again someday, and that it will never be a problem for me. So earlier this week, when I was rooting around in the pantry for some mac and cheese, and discovered an unopened bottle of Southern Comfort, yeah, I salivated. I practically tasted the SoCo and OJ, felt the slippery coolness of condensation hugging the outside of the highball glass, my cheeks stung a little at the prospect of the sweet-tangy orange juice slipping down my throat. But that's okay. I can drink again, and I will not be an alcoholic.

Smoking is different. I've quit. I've quit for good. There is no looking forward to the day I can smoke again. There is no "just one cigarette" for me. What's that old saying?

One is too many, a thousand not enough.

True dat. If I had "just one," it would be all over for me.

This is a frightening prospect, as my mother quit smoking five years ago, and says not a day goes by when she doesn't wish for one. How am I going to live with that? Me, who can deny myself practically nothing?

I'm doing this more for you and for the new baby than I am for me, sweetie. If it was just me here, I sooooo wouldn't care. But how can I keep you from smoking, if I am a smoker myself? I'm imagining the day when I find you smoking, and I can scream, with a righteous anger, "OH NO YOU'RE NOT! I did not quit smoking 15 years ago so that your little punk-ass can light up! You're not too old for a SPANKING, you little SHIT!"

So, in an effort to face my cravings head on, today I'm recognizing 13 triggers that make me want to light up a cigarette. Recognizing them, then balling them up and stuffing them way down out of reach, and hopefully not replacing my want of a cigarette with a want of a Snickers bar.

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13 things that make me want to smoke
(in no particular order)

1. Google image-searching for a pack of American Spirit blues
2. Writing about smoking
3. The thought of quitting for good

Okay, obviously this post makes me want to smoke. Let's move beyond this, shall we, and look at some of my time-honored triggers. Sheesh.

4. Driving my truck.
5. Completing a task, such as washing the dishes, or a work-related chore, like a meeting.
6. Being hungry, bored or tired (or a thousand other conditions, good or bad...)
7. Listening to my favorite music.
8. Being with friends who smoke.
9. Standing in line at 7-Eleven, buying a Slurpee, while the woman in front of me buys a pack of cigarettes.
10. The smell of cigarettes.
11. The sight of watching the smoking crowd at work stand as one and file out the door in the middle of the day.
12. Fighting with your daddy, or anybody for that matter.
13. Getting off the phone with your Nana and Papa.

There are a million other triggers, sweetie, but those right there are the biggies. Okay. I've tortured myself enough tonight. Sleep well, and if I EVER catch you smoking, it'll be the LAST thing I'll ever catch you doing, you little BRAT!