I’ve made the point by now: quitting smoking is hard. Not dramatic hard. Not movie-montage hard. Real hard. The kind of hard that shows up quietly in the morning, taps you on the shoulder, and asks, “So… what’s the plan today?”
And the plan, whether I like it or not, is this: it has to be done.
I just scheduled an appointment with a cardiologist, along with a few other specialists for various health issues. That alone changes the tone of the whole situation. This isn’t a lifestyle experiment. It’s not a self-improvement hobby. This is health. This is survival. This is the difference between playing around with the idea of quitting and actually stepping into the reality of it.
Sometimes I joke about the process. Sometimes I write about it lightly. But the truth underneath the humor is simple: this is no game.
Still, life isn’t all battlefields and withdrawal symptoms.
Kitty is doing well. Mom is doing well. My art is moving forward. Those three things form the quiet center of my world right now. They’re the steady ground I stand on when everything else feels like shifting sand.
Today started the way many days do.
I woke up and had three or four cigarettes. No excuses, no drama. Just the reality of the habit still holding some ground. Later, I went to lunch with Mom, my brother, and his wife. Family time. Normal time. The kind of moments that remind me life isn’t just about quitting something. It’s about what you’re still living for.
When I got home, I smoked again.
Then I put the last cigarette out with no intention of buying more.
That moment matters. Not because it was perfect, but because it was a decision. A line drawn, even if it gets redrawn tomorrow.
By now, withdrawal isn’t a surprise anymore. I know the restlessness, the irritation, the mental bargaining, the quiet voice suggesting just one more. It’s familiar territory. And strangely, that familiarity helps.
It’s not a crisis anymore.
It’s just another day.
Another day of discomfort.
Another day of choosing.
Another day of playing the long game.
That’s really what this is about now. Not dramatic victories. Not counting days like trophies. Just showing up again and again, even after slips, even after cigarettes, even after frustration.
The goal isn’t perfection.
The goal is momentum.
And while the fight continues, the good parts of life keep growing quietly alongside it. Kitty chasing shadows. Mom steady as ever. Paint, paper, ideas taking shape. Each one a reminder that I’m building something worth being healthy for.
So here I am again, facing the evening, the cravings, the familiar tug.
Not discouraged.
Not defeated.
Just back at the line.
Once again, I got this. 🚭🎨🐾
by Dan and Bonkers
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