Three Weeks...

Apparently, in smoking cessation, there is a well-used term: the icky-threes. The worst points in quitting are 3 days, 3 weeks, and 3 months. I didn't think much of it until I got to this point and started having different and new problems. I'm more emotional. I have joint pain, and now, all of a sudden, I have trouble sleeping through the night without waking. Then I thought about it. I'm at the second "three". My third day was also my worst, so maybe there really is something to it. If so, there should be some sort of involved study of the whole phenomenon.

We're talking really smart scientist-types. If I were a trained research psychologist or neuro-scientist, I would SO be all over it. I have a feeling there's a Nobel lurking in this mess.

Alas, I am neither of those things and must stick to suffering through the mystery rather than profiting from it. **sigh**

Fifteen Days...

Last night was better than expected, but still not as good as hoped. I managed not to graze our house into famine, but I did make a much larger dinner than usual, and couldn't keep my paws out of the dishes while they were cooking. I officially became ashamed of myself when I realized I had been eaten slightly raw potatoes just because they looked really good and I was impatient.

I fear for my marriage at this rate. My poor husband and his raw potato-eating wife. It was almost a new low.

Eventually I will figure this thing out. I didn't manage to get to the store last night, so I'm blaming that. I have this fantastic list filled with waistline-friendly munching foods. Things like grapes and raspberries for freezing and carrots for crunching.

I did have two glasses of wine. But I didn't feel bad about that. I actually savored it- I purchased it on my recent trip to Paso Robles wine country- rather than kind of sucking it down absentmindedly.

So... Slow progress. But progress nonetheless.

Two Weeks

It's been two weeks, now. There are good days and bad days with the smoking. There are only bad days for the eating. I thought I could do it, but I've managed to gain 10 pounds. I have got to figure something out before I end up looking like the stay-puft marshmallow and have to be crane-lifted out of my house in the mornings.

Today is officially my first day really trying to tackle the food thing. I was giving myself a little slack because the smoking was the main addiction with more difficult withdrawals, but no more. Now that I've gotten the worst of it under control, there is no excuse to continue to stuff my face with whatever sounds yummy. No more cupcakes.

Day Three

Better than yesterday. And the day before. True, I did snack on candy, but I didn't eat the whole bag. I had a serving and a half. So... not bad.

Then I had 3 light beers. Also... not bad.

At this point, I'll definitely take "not bad" or "okay" as a HUGE step in the right direction. Especially considering the starting point of "awful" and "terrible" and "dismally depressing."

But. Now on to my first weekend and day four. I got a great idea from my quitbuddy, Marty. I'm going to keep my quitting forum open on my computer and venture back outside. When I start to feel depressed or get a craving, I'll open up my forum and get inspired all over again. His thought is that it will eventually lead me to connect being outside with gaining my freedom. It was brilliant.

So, wish me luck on getting my favorite pastimes back- being outside, reading, and connecting with others.

The countdown...

Obituary

Vanessa's smoking habit will be sorely missed. It was a reliable friend and loyal confidante.

Vanessa's smoking habit (VSH) was born in 1993 on a warm summer afternoon to a group of curious girlfriends. It led a wild childhood, often involved in petty theft and shoplifting due to it's underage parents. As it got older, it blossomed and matured into a truly strong and confident habit, although constantly seeking approval from it's mother.

Throughout the years, it has truly made an impression on Vanessa. It became more than a child she had nurtured. It became a close friend. They shared many nights together. Reading by candlelight. Laughing with a crowd. Writing down their secrets. Their wishes. Their dreams. Sharing countless sunsets and sunrises. Thunderstorms. Hot summer nights. A fantastic pinot noir. An acceptable pinot grigio. A dismal Bordeaux.

They saw the world together, and Vanessa always made sure to have a balcony so that VSH always felt at home. They saw the Mexican Riviera aboard a cruise ship. They saw Paris. They saw Geneva. Italy. Canada. Most of the United States. The Bahamas. Honduras. Grand Cayman. Belize. Alaska.

But what will be missed most is the enduring friendship. VSH could always be counted on to cry with, vent to, or to soothe a frayed nerve. It was always there when Vanessa needed it most.

VSH is survived by it's mother Vanessa and it's sister alcohol. VSH was preceded in death by it's brothers: gambling and shopping; it's sisters: painkillers and cutting; and it's best friend: eating disorders.

In lieu of flowers, please send donations to Vanessa's lungs, heart, skin, hair, brain, and teeth. It is our hope that they, at least, should benefit from the loss of one so beloved.

Day Two

Yesterday was even worse than my first day. I was kind of pissed off about that, actually. Isn't this supposed to get easier rather than harder? At least I didn't end up consuming everything even remotely snack-like in the house. I had a few sunflower seeds.

Oh. And, like, an entire bottle of wine.

I swear. I need to get the hang of this before I become either a major drunk or balloon back up to my high school weight. There has GOT to be a middle ground, right? Round three tonight. I'll let you know how it goes. My willpower only has so much battery life, so I need to figure this out fast. The alternative? Resuming both my overeating and my smoking habit.

I had my first bout of depression associated with quitting smoking last night as well. I read that it was likely to happen, but I didn't expect it to happen to me. I expected to get irritable. Angry. Sleepy. Hungry. But not sad.

It hit me around 7:30 or so. I was thinking about how much I love to read outside at night, curled up in a cozy blanket, with a glass of wine and a few cigarettes. I got incredibly sad- almost like I was grieving. The thoughts were junkie thoughts, I know- mis-associating things you love to the bad habit so that your brain (in its withdrawal) can trick you into thinking you HAVE to smoke/drink/bump in order to enjoy those moments again. I'm irrationally thinking that I'll never be able to enjoy a good book again. I know it's irrational. I know it's ridiculous, even. But I can't stop. I'm sincerely hoping thoughts like that go away soon because it's making me melancholy and prone to self-pity. I detest both melancholia and self-pity. In me and others. So, if it doesn't quit I'll have to add self-hatred to the list.

I swear it feels like this never ends.

Day One

Hi, my name is Vanessa, and I have... a couple of problems.

I think my basic problem is that I apparently have an all-around addictive personality. Thank God I have a great family and friends, otherwise I could have ended up in a far more horrible place. But I am or have been at some point addicted to a large variety of things. Shopping. Smoking. Drinking. Work. Junk food. Sweet food. All food. No food. Cutting. Fingernail biting. Chocolate. Teeth-grinding. Internet gambling. Pencil-chewing. Pen-chewing. Cuticle-chewing.

And so on. And so forth.

Luckily, I've managed to kick almost all of my bad habits/addictions over the years, but a couple have stuck around. But I've come to one of those points where I find it ridiculous that I'm still doing them. So here it goes.

When I started dating my husband, I quit smoking. Well... sorta. At first I cut waaaaayyyy back. Then I switched to clove cigarettes, which, for whatever reason, cut my cravings down by quite a bit (and didn't gross my husband out.) Eventually, I cut down to a few in the evenings only, usually when I'm hanging out with my husband or friends or enjoying a glass of wine. Then, the FDA announced the ban on flavored cigarettes. It was the perfect opportunity. I bought a small stock and settled in with the end in sight.

That end came the night before last. Last night was my first smoke-free evening. My second is fast approaching. It's hard. Harder than I thought it would be, considering the fact that I'm barely a smoker these days. I didn't smoke for at least 20 hours at a time every day. But it's still hard.

I did all kinds of things to keep me occupied. Including snacking.

Which brings me to my other problem- food. I have never had a healthy relationship with food. Ever. My family was always on a diet, so I basically learned that food was the enemy. I was a chubby kid. Then a very large teenager. Finally, at around 20, I got a grip. I lost over 100 pounds. I met my future husband. We got married. I slowly started gaining it back.

Now I'm at that "damnit!" point. That point where I'm pissed I've gained back almost half of what I spent so much time, effort, and sacrifice to lose. I've had it.

I've decided I'm keeping only one vice- my love of (and sometimes overindulgence in) good beer and good wine. The other two remaining ones have to go.

I'm putting out my cigarette in that cupcake. And then turning my back on both.