I was feeling pretty cocky this weekend because I had managed to make it through my first two weeks of not smoking. After all, stopping something you've done most of your adult life upwards of 20 times a day, gives me reason to feel a little Billy Badass. Its no small thing to accomplish. I've just made it through my own little personal hell on earth and survived. I've always said, if you can quit smoking, you can do just about anything, so its a very powerful feeling having the worst part of the battle behind me.
So feeling all Super Woman like, I thought I could handle some wine, too. I was wrong. It didn't take long for the old familiar pestering to come back. The nagging want. Alcohol is, in my opinion, the #1 worst smoking trigger. First, it makes you want a cigarette, then it dulls your conscience about it all. It hits a vulnerable quitter with a one, two punch.
I did not relapse, I didn't smoke, but I can say this is only because I did not have the opportunity to. Had a pack of cigarettes been sitting in front of me, there is no doubt I would have smoked one.
I'm strong, but I ain't that strong. Nobody is. It was stupid to put myself in that position. And for what really? I should be more careful.
At least now I know. And you know what they say about knowing.
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