Sixtieth Quit

A friend of mine from work told me once: You do know Allen Carr died of lung cancer, don't you?

Wikipedia confirms this, as much as Wikipedia confirms anything. He did die of lung cancer.

But you know, I don't think that discounts anything he wrote about smoking. It doesn't make it irrelevant. It doesn't mean we can all go about our smoky ways thinking there's no point in quitting.

The other reason there is a point- even if a smoking-related illness gets me in the end - is that actually I can't continue to live like this.

It sounds stupid and dramatic. It is.

As a smoker, I'm living this weird kind of half-life. I can't enjoy things. I can't go visit my mum for any length of time without manufacturing an excuse to go off for a cigarette (I'm still in the closet with her). I can't enjoy a full movie without getting edgy. My enjoyment of my work has dropped. I'm not able to exercise properly, I'm not motivated to look after myself well. My back problems have re-emerged because I haven't been good with my physio. My son watches too much television because I have to keep nicking out the front door for a fag. I spend half the time wishing I was smoking and the other half wishing I didn't have to smoke.

I tire myself.

I want to be able to enjoy all of my life. I want the relaxation I remember, the absence of the desire to smoke. The freedom - not having to feel edgy day in and day out. I'm tired of being a slave to it and despising myself for it.

I'm tired of feeling like I don't have control of myself.