Day two without smoking, and something unexpected has happened.
Peace.
Whiskey Kitty has been surprisingly calm. Instead of her usual morning campaign of paws, whiskers, and tiny chaos, she now just waits for me to wake up. Sometimes she slips into bed during the night and curls up beside me like a warm little anchor. The change might be simple: I’ve been leaving her more food before bedtime. A full cat, it turns out, is a peaceful cat. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere. Stability calms the nervous system, whether you have whiskers or a nicotine habit.
Today wasn’t about smoking as much as it was about logistics. Mom and I spent the day scheduling medical appointments. Getting older while managing mental health isn’t a phase. It’s a full-time occupation with paperwork. Between phone calls, calendars, referrals, and insurance questions, the day filled itself. Sometimes the best way to fight cravings is not heroic willpower, but simple busyness. The mind can’t obsess over cigarettes when it’s juggling doctors and dates.
Then there was a call from the past.
A former room and board home reached out to tell me I was welcome back. I thanked them, but I was honest. I told them I wasn’t willing to return to the bullying and pressure that often comes with halfway house life, especially theirs. After that, the conversation went quiet. And honestly, so did something inside me. There comes a point in recovery when survival isn’t enough. Dignity becomes part of the treatment plan.
With everything going on, the cravings stayed mostly in the background, like a radio playing in another room.
Meanwhile, Whiskey Kitty had her own agenda. When it was time for her downstairs visit, she decided she preferred the upstairs lifestyle. Normally this would turn into a full chase sequence, but today there simply wasn’t time. So I waited. Eventually she curled up, relaxed, and that was my moment. Sometimes the smartest strategy isn’t force. It’s patience. Another life lesson, delivered by a four-pound philosopher.
I don’t know yet if I’m going to count the days again. Numbers can help, but they can also turn recovery into a scoreboard. For now, I’m just noticing the quiet wins. The calm mornings. The busy afternoons. The absence of smoke. The presence of a cat who seems to sense that something important is changing.
Day two is steady. Not dramatic. Not heroic.
Just solid.
And once again… I got this.
by Dan and Bonkers
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