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I’ve always been told I’m hardheaded. So much that it’s become somewhat a badge of honor for me. In my younger days, there were people on the planet (who shall remain nameless – you know who you are) who were convinced my hard head would be the death of me, and that at the very least, I would have a hard and miserable life because of it.

I’m proud to announce that I’ve found a way to use my hardheadedness for good, not evil.

How?

I quit smoking.

Yep.

After more than 20 years of that nonsense, I smoked the last one and didn’t go buy more. That was Thursday, April 15th at 8pm central time. Done.

Do I miss it?

No, not really.

Has it been hard? Surprisingly – not as hard as I thought it would be.

Why?

Because I’m hardheaded.

I refuse to be “addicted”. I refuse to entertain the idea that I can’t quit doing something that

a) is no longer enjoyable,
b) is bad for me on so many levels,
c) might end up being the death of me.

What has surprised me most is that none (so far, anyway) of the big fears I had about quitting have come to fruition.

I’m not eating 24 hours a day to keep my mouth busy. Therefore, my ass will remain it’s current width or – God forbid – narrower because I’ve also gotten up every morning this past week and walked the dog. Before coffee! (I know!!)

I’m not biting people’s heads off, kicking the dogs or generally threatening to “go postal”. Although, I did put myself on “time out” the other night when I felt all of that coming on. (Turns out taking good care of myself makes quitting easier. Who knew?!)

So do I want a cigarette?

Physically? No.
Intellectually? No.
Emotionally? No.
Habitually? Yes.

That last one won’t last forever. And it’s fairly easy to ignore. And when it’s not, here’s what I do:

I have one, lonely cigarette stashed in this house. One. It’s sole purpose in life is to be available to quell the petulant child in me who wants what she wants when she wants it…and not surprisingly, what she wants here of late is a damn cigarette. So, I tell her, “Ok, girlie – you can have that cigarette. But when it’s gone, it’s gone. I’m not buying anymore. So, do you REALLY want your last cigarette now?”

Well, of course, that little petulant child sits right down and shuts up, because she’s worried the urge for a cigarette might be worse sometime in the future, and then what will she do if she’s already smoked her stash??! So, she “saves” it for that emergency situation.

You and I both know what’s gonna happen…

The day will come when even that stashed cigarette will be too stale and nasty to contemplate smoking it.

And that day, I will know for sure I’m free of cigarettes.

Thank God for my hard head – it’s what will get me through until then.

Keepin' it real in the bloggerhood,

Suzanne

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