At the pet hospital with Whiskey Kitty to take care of her worms and fleas, I told the veterinarian I had seven days smoke-free. Clean. Clear. A small but meaningful victory. The kind you hold onto like a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning.
But then came the correction.
I also told him I recently had four months.
“Well… you’ve had a few bouts of that,” he said. “So it’s seven days.”
And just like that, the scoreboard reset.
Back to zero.
Back to the starting line.
Back to that mental space where the mountain suddenly looks taller than it did five minutes ago.
And that’s where the problem begins.
Because the idea of “starting over” can feel less like a fresh start and more like a trap door.
When someone believes they’re back at zero, something strange happens in the mind. It whispers:
“Well… if I’m already here… why not just go all in before I quit again?”
And suddenly quitting becomes a game. Not a health decision. Not a life decision. A game.
A strange little loop of:
Quit → Slip → Reset → Smoke → Quit again.
Like a broken record that keeps skipping to the same chorus.
But here’s where I push back.
Progress is progress.
Not perfection. Not purity. Progress.
If someone runs five miles every day for a week and then misses a day, we don’t say they’re back to zero. We don’t erase the miles. Their body doesn’t forget. Their lungs don’t forget. Their discipline doesn’t forget.
So why do we treat quitting smoking like it’s some kind of all-or-nothing scoreboard?
It doesn’t make sense.
What makes sense is this: every cigarette not smoked matters. Every craving resisted counts. Every day, even imperfect ones, builds something.
Now, I’m not saying we throw a parade before every slip-up. That’s not the point either. This isn’t about lowering the bar. It’s about understanding the terrain.
Addiction isn’t a straight road. It’s more like a winding trail with a few loose rocks, a couple of wrong turns, and the occasional “what am I even doing out here?” moment.
And in my experience, quitting anything—especially something like cigarettes—usually takes a few rounds. A few honest attempts. A few lessons learned the hard way.
There’s no clean measurement for that.
No perfect chart.
No gold star system that tells you, “Congratulations, this was your official final attempt.”
It doesn’t work like that.
What does work is making a decision.
A real one.
Not based on a number. Not based on what day you’re on. Not based on whether someone else thinks it counts.
Just a decision.
I am quitting smoking from this day on.
Not as a game. Not as a streak. Not as a scorecard.
As a necessity.
Because this isn’t about numbers. It’s about lungs. It’s about breath. It’s about time. It’s about staying around long enough to make more art, write more stories, play with Whiskey Kitty, and show up for the life I’m trying to build.
My health depends on it.
My longevity depends on it.
And that’s bigger than any reset button.
So whether it’s seven days, or seven days again, or seven days for the third time… I’m still moving forward.
And this time, I’m not looking back at the scoreboard.
I’m looking ahead.
Once again… I got this.
by Dan and Bonkers
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