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Day 30 - Im in ur noun, verbing ur related noun.
Day 30
I just got a message on my voicemail from the NY Quits organization, following up with the metric ton of nicotine gum they sent me. It's strange that they should have called me today, as it's exactly the one month mark since I last had a cigarette, even though they didn't know that. (I told them I had quit only about five days before I called them, to increase my chances of receiving the free gum. I guess it worked.)

30 days is at least 12 days longer than I lasted the previous time I tried to quit. So yay for that. Because I've had the chemical safety net this whole time, I don't really know how much of the habit is broken. Just because I can go for hours or even a whole day without chewing doesn't really mean a lot to me right now, aside from being abstractly "good". As agonizing as those 18 or so days were last year, in a weird way even getting from Day 3 to Day 4 back then felt more rewarding than the whole past month has been this year, in a perverse "No Pain, No Gain" sort of way. I ultimately failed, so I don't wish I had tried it the same way this time, but it makes it harder to gauge where I stand right now. I haven't completely rid myself of the addiction. This is obvious both because I'm still occasionally chewing gum (not yet today) but also because I have it on a preponderance of anecdotal information that it never really will go away. Which I'm trying not to get me down too much.

If it can be said that I've made some progress (and I do realize 30 days is nice, regardless of my feelings right now) then I may be in the stage where I start to miss the overall pleasures of smoking, instead of the immediate ones. Sort of like the difference between climate and weather - what becomes tiresome in the winter isn't so much that you wish any given day was warm, it's realizing that there won't be any warm days. So as it pertains to this instance, while the urge to smoke a cigarette RIGHT NOW hasn't been a problem, I get a little sad when I think about future cigarettes that I won't be smoking, on certain occasions that seemed perfect for doing so. Like lounging on my roof at dusk, or between innings of a close Baseball game. Even if when those times come, I don't end up feeling impinged by my inability to smoke, it's thinking about them in advance that makes me feel the loss.


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