My Smoker’s Journal – Paint, Paws, and the Relapse – DAN JOYCE art


My Smoker’s Journal – Paint, Paws, and the Relapse

Posted by Dan Joyce on

I usually block off a section of the house for Whiskey to roam once I wake up and get myself together. It’s our routine. Controlled chaos. A small kingdom where she can patrol, pounce, and judge me silently.

This morning, as I handed her to my mom, we could practically hear her tiny internal monologue coming out as loud, indignant meows: Dan was mean to me. He didn’t feed me on time. So I bit him up. Case closed. 🐾⚖️
She had clearly prepared her testimony.

Then, moments later, mom sneezed. Not a polite little sniffle. A full-blown sneeze that sent Whiskey flying clean off her perch. No harm done, just wounded pride and a look that said, I will remember this. It was genuinely funny. One of those slapstick moments you don’t plan but desperately need.

And somewhere between the laughter and the normalcy, I walked to the 7-Eleven.

I bought a pack of cigarettes.
And I started smoking again.

There’s no dramatic justification here. No long chain of excuses. It just happened. A relapse that slipped in quietly while the house was still warm with humor and cat drama. That’s how sneaky it is. It doesn’t always arrive during despair. Sometimes it shows up during a perfectly ordinary morning.

Now I’m back to thinking about strategy. Again.
How do I stop this relapse before it becomes a full blown relapse?

The truth is frustratingly simple: I’m never going to know until I do it. You can theorize quitting forever. You can map it out like a battle plan. But at some point, thinking turns into avoidance.

Quitting smoking is a lot like making an oil painting. You can imagine the composition, the colors, the mood. You can stand there staring at a blank canvas convincing yourself you’re preparing. But nothing actually happens until you put paint down. And once you do, the painting tells you what it needs next.

Right now, I’ve got paint on the canvas again. Not the color I wanted. But it’s not ruined. It just means the next move matters more.

So I regroup. I adjust. I keep going.

Whiskey will forgive me.
The canvas will too.
And I’m not done yet.

I got this. 🎨🚭🐈

by Dan and Bonkers

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