Today I woke up to a cold house, dragged myself into a shower, and headed to the clinic to get my medicine box filled—only to discover I already had everything. Lately I’ve been moving slow, like I’m wading through fog. Depression, for me, doesn’t show up as sadness or tears. It shows up as sloth. A heavy, dragging lack of motivation that takes real effort to push through.
But here I am, still pushing.
When it comes to fighting cravings, it may look like I’ve already won. Forty-one days is a big deal. But the truth is, the war isn’t over. Not even close. People say quitting is a “day at a time” thing—and sure, that’s part of it. But I don’t want to quit for just one day. I want to quit for a lifetime.
And honestly, saying it’s only been 41 days feels misleading. The real journey didn’t start on Day 1 of this blog. It started last spring when I walked into that free smoking cessation group at the hospital. That’s when I began studying myself like a scientist:
• When do I smoke?
• Why do I smoke?
• How often?
• What triggers it?
Back then I was smoking three packs a day. Three. The plan was to stretch the time between cigarettes and cut back to one pack a day. I did that—but reducing from there felt like trench warfare. Sometimes I’d go a few hours, even half a day, but I always ended up lighting up again. It felt like all I was doing was prolonging withdrawal without ever getting free from it.
Eventually I had to make a bigger move—I had to leave the halfway house because the smoking environment was too strong. And when the day finally came where I put out my last cigarette, it might have looked impulsive from the outside. But I had been preparing for that moment for months.
So yes, the battle for that final quit might be over, but the war isn’t. Each day is its own chapter, but all those chapters add up to a story I’m proud of.
Another day smoke-free. Over a month now. And tomorrow, I’ll add one more.
I got this!
by Dan and Bonkers
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