Breathing, what's that like?
My reptile brain let this out the other morning: “Dear God, I have to stop smoking.” Was it a prayer? It could have been. It was out loud and everything.
I’ve been smoking for a long time. For the past long while, my lungs have been hurting. (It’s completely terrible to see this in writing - that my lungs hurt – even though I’ve been saying it in my head for some time now.) So it’s been on my mind a dozen times a day that I need to stop. I’ve been pretending that I’m working on a plan to quit. I'm not. Or rather, my unspoken plan has been to wait until something came along that absolutely made me have to stop. Like lung cancer, for god’s sake.
So when my reptile brain bellowed this out on Monday morning, when it yelled it on high, I thought it might be a prayer, so I backed it right up with another prayer, this time from my regular brain: “Please, you’ve got to do something!”
I went home to breakfast and by 10 am, I was puffing away.
On Tuesday night I lit yet another cigarette and had two puffs. I felt sick, conscious of my lungs hurting, so I stubbed it out. Then on utter impulse I grabbed the pack of smokes off the counter and threw it in the garbage.
So here’s the thing: the next morning I woke up about to get sick. I didn’t go to work. I became increasingly toxic throughout the day. By bedtime I was hacking and shivering. I’ve been sick for 3 days now, with a fever that comes and goes, and a stuffy head, and god knows what coming out of my lungs. I’m living in my pajamas, I got my period, I’m crampy and coughy. I feel like shit on a stick.
But I haven’t smoked, I don’t want to smoke, and I’m pretty sure I’m not going want to again, after this. I know it’s only a chest cold, but if a weeny little chest cold is going to turn me into this feeble, dripping crank, what the hell am I doing, holding out for lung cancer?
I think the rule is, if you say it out loud, if you write it out loud, it’s a prayer. It's just that if you're a non-believer, you have to take care of it yourself. I'm putting the kettle on now.
I’ve been smoking for a long time. For the past long while, my lungs have been hurting. (It’s completely terrible to see this in writing - that my lungs hurt – even though I’ve been saying it in my head for some time now.) So it’s been on my mind a dozen times a day that I need to stop. I’ve been pretending that I’m working on a plan to quit. I'm not. Or rather, my unspoken plan has been to wait until something came along that absolutely made me have to stop. Like lung cancer, for god’s sake.
So when my reptile brain bellowed this out on Monday morning, when it yelled it on high, I thought it might be a prayer, so I backed it right up with another prayer, this time from my regular brain: “Please, you’ve got to do something!”
I went home to breakfast and by 10 am, I was puffing away.
On Tuesday night I lit yet another cigarette and had two puffs. I felt sick, conscious of my lungs hurting, so I stubbed it out. Then on utter impulse I grabbed the pack of smokes off the counter and threw it in the garbage.
So here’s the thing: the next morning I woke up about to get sick. I didn’t go to work. I became increasingly toxic throughout the day. By bedtime I was hacking and shivering. I’ve been sick for 3 days now, with a fever that comes and goes, and a stuffy head, and god knows what coming out of my lungs. I’m living in my pajamas, I got my period, I’m crampy and coughy. I feel like shit on a stick.
But I haven’t smoked, I don’t want to smoke, and I’m pretty sure I’m not going want to again, after this. I know it’s only a chest cold, but if a weeny little chest cold is going to turn me into this feeble, dripping crank, what the hell am I doing, holding out for lung cancer?
I think the rule is, if you say it out loud, if you write it out loud, it’s a prayer. It's just that if you're a non-believer, you have to take care of it yourself. I'm putting the kettle on now.
posted by Allison at 7:10 PM
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