This morning began with the unmistakable alarm clock known as Whiskey Kitty. No snooze button. No mercy. She launched onto the bed with full enthusiasm, alternating between playful bites, enthusiastic licks, and the unmistakable message: Wake up, human. Life is happening.
I tried to sleep in. Whiskey disagreed.
Once I surrendered to the day, I turned my attention to another challenge: booking a hotel for the LA Times Festival of Books at USC. This event matters to me. It’s part of the bigger picture, the growing list of art and book promotions I’ve committed to this year. But the universe threw up a small roadblock. The server wouldn’t accept my card. I tried again. Same result. Nothing like a little technical resistance to add some extra anxiety to the morning.
Meanwhile, the other battle was quietly unfolding.
So far today, I’ve had three cigarettes.
Three.
And here’s the important part: I didn’t go buy more.
Partly because it’s raining, and I’d have to walk to the store. But sometimes progress comes disguised as inconvenience. Sometimes the weather becomes a sponsor you didn’t ask for.
Right now, Whiskey Kitty is resting on her perch like a tiny, furry Zen master. The hotel still isn’t booked. The uncertainty is sitting in my chest. And yes, there’s some withdrawal anxiety humming in the background like a low electrical current.
But something else is true.
I’m below a pack a day.
That matters.
We’ve been deeply conditioned, especially by 12 Step program promotiions to believe that total abstinence is the only definition of progress. All or nothing. Clean or failure. Victory or defeat.
But behavior change isn’t a light switch. It’s a dimmer.
And today, the light is lower.
One of my followers is upset with me for saying that reduction counts as progress. I understand the concern. For some people, abstinence is the only path that works. But for me, right now, cutting back is movement. It’s momentum. It’s proof that the habit doesn’t fully control the dial anymore.
Three cigarettes instead of twenty is not failure.
It’s a different trajectory.
Addiction recovery is not a single road. It’s a messy network of trails, detours, muddy patches, and occasional wrong turns. The important thing is direction.
Today’s direction is forward.
Less smoke.
Less automatic behavior.
More awareness.
More choice.
And here’s something else I’m learning: pressure and shame don’t help me quit. But small wins do. Weather helps. A busy calendar helps. Whiskey Kitty definitely helps. Every time she jumps on me demanding attention, she pulls me back into the present moment, away from the ritual thinking that leads to the next cigarette.
She doesn’t know she’s part of a cessation program.
She just knows it’s time to play.
So here I am.
Three cigarettes.
No trip to the store.
No new pack.
Some anxiety.
Some uncertainty.
A hotel booking problem.
A rainy day.
A cat on a perch.
And a habit that’s shrinking instead of growing.
Progress isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it looks like doing less instead of doing nothing. Sometimes it’s simply not making the next purchase.
And today, that’s enough.
Once again…
I got this
by Dan and Bonkers
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