It started off so blatently innocent.
We were going on our first vacation since our honeymoon. I was excited to have a drink out in back of our cabin in the hot tub. Erik said "Remember our honeymoon? Champagne, cigarettes..."
So he bought a pack - for us to share. It was done before the trip was over. We bought another one. Got home, kept the pack...kept smoking it together until it was done.
Then...we each bought our own pack of cigarettes. Finished those too. Bought a fourth pack for each of us.
Tonight, as I pulled on my winter hat and headed outside against a stiff wind and full moon, I asked Erik what in the hell were we doing?
It was easy to quit the first time around. We almost made it to three years. My brother got cancer and I quit. How could I smoke when I thought he was going to die? It really was that easy. And hard.
I have a blood disorder that causes clots. Smoking and this go together like bread and butter...your blood doesn't do what it's supposed to do. The cigarettes make it do that even better. It gets thick, clots form. What is wrong with me?
Another example? I have the best one of all. Watching your baby lay there connected to a machine with a tube that goes down her small throat - breathing for her.
We took the cigarettes and broke them all in half. I am fucking done with this shit. Fuck you cigarettes and fuck you to all the people who make them and think it's okay. Who actually sleep at night knowing this is what it fucking does to people. Fuck you. I quit