Yesterday I bought a pack of cigarettes, and I’m still smoking them today.
With such little progress lately, I’ve been thinking about stopping writing about my efforts to quit and just writing about something else entirely. It may be that writing about smoking focuses too much on the cravings and somehow makes them worse. When you put something under a spotlight every day, sometimes it starts performing for the audience. Cigarettes seem to love a spotlight.
I’ve thought of plenty of other subjects for the blog. There are always more adventures and anecdotes about Whiskey Kitty, who seems to live her life like a tiny striped comedian with excellent timing. Or I could focus more on my art in ways that might help other artists. I’ve learned a lot over the years about getting into galleries, selling paintings, marketing online, and surviving the strange circus that is the art world. There’s plenty there worth writing about.
But my brother pointed something out that stuck with me. He said I should keep writing about the smoking because it keeps things transparent. Otherwise it becomes too easy to cheat.
The funny thing is, that’s exactly what’s been happening anyway. I keep trying to smoke and not tell anyone, and then eventually I end up writing about it here in the blog. It turns into this strange little game of hide-and-seek with the truth.
But part of being sneaky is getting caught.
And the person who usually catches me… is me.
So for now it’s still My Smoker’s Journal. Not because the story is pretty or heroic, but because it’s honest. Quitting isn’t a straight line. Sometimes it looks more like a scribble drawn by a caffeinated squirrel.
The goal is still the same: a permanent quit.
And until I get there, the journal continues.
Once again, I got this. 🚬➡️🗑️✨
by Dan and Bonkers
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