A Cyclic Poem

I threw a screwdriver this weekend in a silly fit of rage.  Hope left the room briefly, then came back and gave me a giant hug while looking at me solemnly and saying, "I'm SO proud of you for quitting smoking, and I know it makes you irritable and I support you."  Ohmagosh, I got all teared up, she was just so darn cute and grown up.  She left the room because I think she was a little scared, but after thinking about it, she knew how to give just the right amount of support.  She's so proud of me, and wants so badly to help me quit, she braved my bad mood and ended up giving me just what I needed.

That's not to say that I didn't BADLY fall off the smoking wagon this weekend.  I was supposed to be down to five a day (although I was still allowed to smoke ten) in preparation for this week's five a day limit.  But alas, being at home all day on a nasty rainy weekend completely threw me off my rhythm.  I ended up smoking my entire 10 for each day (and maybe more because I sort of stopped counting after a while, my paperclip rosary thrown out the window.)  I can tell the weekends are going to truly suck when the magic cold turkey quit date begins.  No allowances for cheating then!!

Yesterday I got back on track and only smoked the five I was allowed, but again, it’s not so hard when I’m at work.  One on the way in, one at lunch, one on the way home, two at home at night, and sleeping pills to make me pass out by nine, before I can smoke any more!!!

Hope has been a true support.  Every morning when she crawls in bed with me, I tell her how I did the day before and I get huge hugs for if I did well and words of encouragement for the next time if I didn’t.

Our morning routine is so sweet.  My mother gets her dressed while she’s still asleep (as am I) then she crawls into be with me until she gets called down for breakfast. We both get up, I get dressed and she always eats quickly enough to come back up and spend some time with me before she has to leave at 7:00.  I leave by 7:15 and everyone’s happy.  The problems arise on the days when neither my mother nor Hope have to get up.  I’m completely immune to my alarm clock now, because it goes off every morning and I’ve learned to ignore it in favor of being awoken by my child.  Very bad news for me and work on school vacation days!

Evil Ex has gone back to his old ways.  He didn’t call for a couple of weeks, but I left a message on his voicemail telling him (nicely) that Hope is starting to ask questions and that this time, I won’t be able to cover for him as much as I have in the past.  Luckily, he did call her last night.  He does appear to be sick and told me he has suffered some depression lately which he said kept him from calling or coming to get her.  I feel for him on the one hand, depression can certainly be debilitating, but for his daughter he needs to drag himself out of bed long enough to make that phone call.  He apologized for not paying any child support lately, but it felt like more of a plea for me to say, “that’s okay” than for any real bad feelings on his part.  Oh well, at least he called.

Hope is doing well with her studying.  We’re taking the online CRCT preparatory tests and she’s doing remarkably well, but it’s difficult to tell how much subliminal help we’re giving her.  I guess it’ll all come out in the wash.

I finally spoke with my best friend of many years last night.  Luckily, she’s one of those friends, we can go years without speaking, and pick back up as if nothing’s changed.  It’s been at least four since we’ve last spoken and in the meantime she too has been diagnosed with bi-polar disorder.  Perhaps it’s the flavor of the month.  She has something weird though, she hears voices and she sees people.  She talks to them, almost as if they’re ghosts and strange things seem to happen all around her.  The first therapist she went to told her was seeing paranormal activity but this second doctor definitely wanted to medicate her.  I don’t really know that I agree with a bi-polar diagnosis based on “hearing voices” but then again, I’m obviously not a doctor.  But seeing people and hearing voices sounds like a problem, no matter what it turns out being!!

The American Lung Association says I have to do this: 

Write a letter saying good-bye to your cigarettes. You may want to begin your letter by listing all of the things you’ll miss about smoking. Then end it with all the reasons you’re quitting, and why it’s better for you to quit. Post your letter, or a portion of it on the message boards.

So here we go.

Dear Marlboro Light 100's (in a box, please),

We've been together a long time.  I started smoking way back when in the Rockdale House for Women.  It was a Nazi camp for female alcoholics and addicts.  Our every move was watched, our every word was monitored, our every activity decided for us.  The only time of the day, three times daily, when we were allowed a modicum of freedom, was during smoke breaks.  I immediately took up smoking.  That was back in 1994 or 1995 I think.  So that makes more than ten years we've been together.  I know, I know...I broke up with you briefly while I was pregnant and nursing Hope, but we both knew I'd go back to you eventually.  And I did.  The DAY I stopped nursing, I started back smoking.

I've never tried to quit before.  I always had an excuse.  After all,  I quit drinking and so I should get a by on quitting anything else.  Everyone said, "Anything is better than drinking, so if you have to do something, keep smoking."  But my cough keeps getting worse, my chicken neck is getting chickenier, and my daughter keeps getting louder with the complaints and the "mommy you're going to die" kind of talks.  My bronchitis gets worse and lasts longer every year and don't even get me started on my car. 

It's a mess.  Empty cigarette boxes everywhere, ashes all over the back seat, burns in the seats and even on the roof!  It smells like smoke and is just generally nasty.  A shame really, because it's because the car is very well taken care of...everything but the interior.  Very low mileage, routine checkups, it's a Honda...but I probably won't get much for it because of how awful our little habit has been for my poor baby car.

Okay, and to mention the fact of what a horrible influence you are on my daughter.  She hates smoke and smoking right now...but I used to hate my father's drinking and SWORE I'd never be like him.  We all know how that turned out.

My skin is looking rough, those little lines around my mouth are starting to deepen, my teeth are getting stained and I definitely am getting the Lucille Ball voice.  Smoking you effectively takes away more than half my prospective dating pool, although lets face it, that's not much of an issue right now.

There is the issue of standing out in the cold and the rain and being ostracized pretty much anywhere I go.  Can't smoke in restaurant or even in most bars.  People avoid standing downwind and I get the evil looks if I dare throw a butt out the window.  (And what's with calling you a butt anyway, I think it's very disrespectful!!)

Sorry also to say, I don't even like being downwind of the smoke you generate and I detest the taste you leave in my mouth and don't even get me started on the foul breath I end up with every morning.  Yum yum..nothing better than the taste of cigarettes and coffee in the morning!  You get in my hair and on my clothes...come to think of it, if you're so nasty, why do even bother?

What's the deal with being so expensive?  Basically you're paper and weed.  And not good weed!  I guess because you're so addictive you think you're special and charge an arm and a leg for a cheap thrill.  You whore!

Okay, so I I will miss the good times.  I still have trouble getting through any type of drive anywhere, anytime without you.  You're a good excuse to go out in the garage, read a book and avoid being a mom for a few minutes at night.  But really, do I need to go out there six or seven times?  I can just go in the bathroom and read!  Better for my lungs...and my colon!

So it's time to say good by.  Adios.  SEE YA!!  It will be hard giving you up, but like any romance, the bloom is finally off the rose.  I hope I never see you again!!!  You're horrible evil dangerous and mean!!!  Get away from me!  Join your good friend alcohol in the "relationships I should have run like hell from" category.  That's it for me, I don't love you anymore.

~Faith

My Birthday!!

I turned 39 yesterday.  And I wasn't happy about it.  First of all, the Great Flood decided (of course) to make it's seemingly weekly appearance so I felt hungover and irritable all day, plus I went down to only 10 cigarettes a day, which shouldn't have mattered since I was smoking less than that already, but for some reason it did matter, just knowing I couldn't have more if things got yucky.

But I got to work, and there was a balloon, and a card from my new friend here, and even a little silver necklace with my initial on it.  Later in the day, two of the supervisors (both men) had gone out and bought me a card and a little stuffed animal.  I felt so warm and fuzzy, I feel like I've already made some very good friends here.  But there's a part of me that's so wary.  Nothing lasts.  Nobody is ever as faithful, friendly and good as they seem.  Eventually some bomb will drop and I will learn the hard way (once again) never to trust people.  For now though, things are good on the work and friendship fronts and I'm trying to live in the moment with that.

The real fun was when I got home.  I knew Hope had something planned so I felt pretty bad that I felt pretty bad physically (haha) and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get in the spirit of whatever she had done.  But I drove up to the house and there were two mylar balloons dancing on the mailbox (one of them a huge butterfly, Hope's personal favorite) and I have to tell you, I teared up a little at her thoughtfulness.  I walked down to the mailbox to pick up the balloons, and unbeknown to me, two of the neighborhood kids (who think I'm "cool) were hoofing it behind houses (having seen me get home) to make it in the back door before I could get inside.  I walked through the garage into the kitchen and it was all dark, and the lights came on and Hope, Bella and the two other girls burst in the kitchen yelling "SURPRISE!!!"  Even though I sort of knew it was coming, I still jumped and they were all so pleased with themselves. 

They found a card at the dollar store that said something on the front like, "29 again?"  You open it up and it says, "I guess you can recycle this card just like you recycled your birthday."  A running joke because I've been telling the girls for weeks to remember I'm turning 29, not 39.  Hope refuses to give in, and corrects me every time.  She was so pleased to have found a card that went with our joke.

We had birthday cake, ice cream and pizza.  They made matching necklaces for me and Hope.  We had such a good time all around!!  And Hope was practically jumping with excitement at having planned it all.

I mourned a little about getting older and closer to that nasty 40 year old mark, even though I know it's all in my head and age is REALLY all in my head.  But mostly I mourn that I don't believe in love anymore.  I think it's all a joke, it's all hormones and friendship mixed up and it is never real and never lasts.  I'm pretty sure I'll be alone for the rest of my life, and I try to come to terms with that, but I hate the fact that a person who was once a hopeless romantic now reads a romance novel, skips all the gooey loves scenes and poo-poos the happy endings.  That's why I hate getting old.  I want to be young and naive again.

Bah humbug.

In a perhaps misguided attempt to keep myself too busy to smoke today, I'm going to try and give my site a whole new look.  But first I'll post here and then visit a few old friends.  My serious lack of commentors is giving me a complex!

Hope was sick on Thursday.  She complained of a bad  stomachache and then when my mom saw her a few minutes later (one of the many good things about having my mom work at her school) she was white as a sheet.  Mommy went ahead and brought her home, where she slept for about an hour, then woke up and puked her guts up all over my mom, herself and the bathroom.  She felt a little better after that but was puny for the rest of the night.  Of course, I panicked throughout, railed at my mom for not taking her to the doctor as soon as Hope complained of a stomachache and then got all angry and defensive when my mother dared voice the opinion that every little tummy ache didn't require a doctor's visit, especially one that wasn't accompanied by a fever or any other major symptoms.  It took a phone call to my friend Kelly ( a mother of three) in which she told me the EXACT SAME THING to convince me my mother was right.  Poor mommy, she never gets believed, but I'm such a paranoid mommy.  Hope is just everything to me!!

My job is going great.  I've met a "kindred spirit" there.  We're close to the same age, although she is much prettier, perkier and more modish than I am.  But whatever, she accepts me for who I am and we've even gone out drinking a few times with some people from work.  I just don't drink anything and she tells me I don't have to, I'm more fun without it than most people she knows are with it.  On Friday I  sort of explained why I don't drink.  I didn't use the "alcoholic" word, because (as with my last job) I didn't want to be branded with that label for the rest of my time there.  But I did tell her that soon after Hope was born, I got involved with a very bad person and then stayed away from home and drunk for five weeks.  That every time I sobered up, the shame and horror of what I was doing was enough to make me want to keep drinking to make it go away.  So (as I told her) I just decided that after that I chose to refrain from drinking at all.  That since I have a history of alcoholism in my family, I'd made a decision to not let that sort of thing happen again.   She was totally cool with that and had few stories of her own to tell that made me realize (once again) that I'm not the only one in the world with skeletons in my closet.

I like this job very much.  My mom told me last night, with tears in her eyes, that she hasn't seen me this happy in years.  Even with the trying to quit smoking and the stress of a new job, I seem happier and more at ease than almost ever before.  I agree, and I'm not sure why...but the people at my new job are nice, seem to like me and seem to appreciate the job I do.  There will be times, as there are at every job, when we all won't be getting along and when I screw things up and when I'll be unhappy or even miserable, but at least for now, I think the good will outweigh the bad.  I hope to not be a Receptionist/Admin. Assistant forever and in fact, this job includes very few phone calls. I do time-sheets, take sales calls, schedule all our sales leads and write out all our maintenance and sales proposals.  And that's just for a start.  I have a gut feeling that I'll soon be doing more and be moving up in the office hierarchy. There's not much room to move up, since there's only about 10 of us office folk, but I think I can make more of my job the more I learn. I'm happy, there's room to grow...and I'm making EXACTLY what I was making at my old job where I was miserable and stuck in a dead-end position.

Hope hasn't been doing so well in school.  We have been concerned for a long time, her reading isn't progressing like I want, her handwriting is abysmal and she can't spell the most basic words.  So my mom sort of snuck around the system a little and got the school psychologist to give her this different test.  Like an IQ test, the first part tests verbal skills and the second part tests non-verbal or matrices.

I'm not sure what that means, but she scored (overall) with a 137 IQ. There is a 10-15 point variance in there, but the test let us know she's not stupid.  So her scholastic issues are being caused by something else.  She simply doesn't care.  She doesn't pay attention, she doesn't listen, she fidgets and chews on her fingers and nails...but then again, sometimes she exhibits none of those behaviors at all!  My mom and the school psychiatrist are leaning toward ADD, but I told my mother (although we will have all the tests done now, because to wait would cost upwards of $900) that for this year at least, I refuse to have her medicated.  I'm such a weirdo.  I have no problems with medications that can help, I take 400 mg of a medication every night and will do so forever if it helps me keep my alcohol demon at bay, but for some reason I have an intense abhorrence to medicating Hope.  But even that doesn't make any sense.  I give her Singular every single night to control her asthma and get angry with EE when he makes an issue about "medicating my child."  No sense at all.

I'm off to tweak this sucker.  We'll see what it ends up looking like!!

Paperclip Rosary

I began a new personal program for my quitting smoking campaign.  I have what I call a "paper clip rosary."  I usually smoke up to 22-24 cigarettes a day and in preparation for my cold turkey quit date of February 1st, I'm trying to limit myself each week.  I'll be going down by five each week and hopefully have figured out my trigger points and start dealing with the effects on my head and body.  I clipped them all together in a long chain with a colored marker clip at the end.  With each paper clip I "smoke" I have to remove a paper clip from one end and stick it on the other.

Yesterday, on the drive home, as I was restricting myself to two instead of my usual four or more, I found myself fingering my paper clip chain over and over, counting the clips left on the "good" end.  The good end of course being my remaining paper clips for the day.  I managed to make it home with six to spare.  And would you believe it?  Without even meaning to, I only smoked 13 all day yesterday!!  By the time it was bedtime, I still had two left, but was too tired to smoke them.  But...of all the luck, my friend Nell told me I can't do "rollover paper clips."  Damnit. 

So far today, I've smoked even less and should make it home with at the very least six, maybe even more.  So I'm well on my way.  I think smoking 10 a day won't be a problem (much of one) but I think that last week when I have to go to five a week is going to be the true test of how I'll do going cold turkey on February 1st.

It will be fun because I'll get to put one of those fun counter things at the top (my current one is so outdated) telling how long I've stopped smoking and how much money I've saved and how many hours I've added to my life.

Assuming I quit.  As part of my Module 2 at the American Lung Association quit smoking program, I have to ask all my friends and family come up with reasons for me to quit.  So go for it!!  Only they can't be the standard health ones, because I've already written all those down.  I should probably post my list so far so you'll know what NOT to suggest, but I don't have it with me (which I'm supposed to at all times) so I can't.

Thanks all of you for checking in with me.  I can't tell you how THRILLED I was to get your comments.  It seems like reconnecting with old best friends.  I've missed you all, and feel immensely grateful that you are all still there for me.

So, Hope is convinced there's no Santa, no Tooth Fairy and no Easter Bunny.  But when it was time to go to bed Christmas Eve, and I threatened no Santa would come if she didn't go to sleep, she hit the sheets pretty quick.  And then, after we toasted the new year, she wanted to know if there was someone who brought presents for the New Year like they did for Christmas.  Haha...she may not really believe, but she's not quite willing to risk it yet.

She's lost both front, top teeth.  She actually pulled the last one.  I can't figure her out.  All four of her bottom teeth, she calmly let me pull.  She got upset just a tad when she saw the blood, but really it was no big deal.  Well, to pull the first of her top teeth, I had to literally hold her down.  Sit on her, hold her hands together in front and STILL she clamped those lips shut and then tried to BITE me!!!  She got so hysterical, I had to stop because it was bringing on an asthma episode. And the thing is, I know it's not because it was hurting or anything.  The thing was turning black.  It was hanging on by a thread.  I tried to get her to pull it and she'd make this big production with the tissue paper and grimace while she "yanked" on the thing.  Blah.

And THEN, she goes to her Daddy's and he gets her to pull the other one, no problem.  Bah.  Men.

She had an asthma episode a few weeks ago.  She had this little cold and then in the middle of the night she came in my room coughing and she literally couldn't catch her breath.  Luckily, I had her albuterol inhaler and that stopped the wheezing.  But when we took her to the doctor the next day (yes, two doctor's visits since I stopped having insurance) her blood oxygen level was still low so they gave her a breathing treatment there and put her on steroids for another week until her cold went away.  (Have I already written all this????  It sounds so familiar to me!!!)  Anyway, my point with all of this is that I told the doctor that Hope had had an asthma ATTACK, and the doctor said, "No, if it can be resolved with the inhaler, it's simply an asthma "episode."  An asthma "attack" requires a visit to the ER because the problem can't be fixed any other way."

Well, fine then.  She had an asthma "episode."  I adore Hope's doctor, but I did think it was funny that she made such a distinction between the two.  Even Hope remembers and is very clear when she explains to people about her asthma and how she's now had one "episode" but it wasn't an "attack."  Too funny.

I dressed her up as a pirate for Halloween.  She loves Pirates of the Caribbean, and the only female in the move never wears anything but a dress, so I got this great girl's costume on-line.  And I put makeup on her and she looked so CUTE.

Only thing is, she also looked like a HOOKER. 

I have to post a picture.  I won't leave it up because I swear she looks ten years older than she is, but you have to see it.  I didn't realize until I saw the pictures...but my GOD!  I don't feel too bad though.  Half our 10-12 year old neighbors were walking around as sexy nurses, sexy devils and sexy vamps.

Too funny, I just looked back and yes, I already posted all that stuff about Hope's tooth.  But oh well, I guess it's been so long, some of it bears repeating.  I'll post that picture soon.

*******

Don't know when I originally typed this.  Sometime in September, I think.

There will be many typos in this.  It's late, I'm emotionally exhausted and I'm too tired to go back and read the whole thing.  I don't really want to.

****

The 23 year old asked me out for dinner this weekend.

****

My computer at working is fucking up again.  Corporate denies any knowledge, so it's either Stalker Boy or Corporate is lying.  Either way I feel threatened and harassed.  I let the appropriate people know and everyone made appropriate noises..."we'll figure it out and let you know."  I have no idea what to do.  For all I know, Stalker Boy is accessing my computer here at home as we speak.  Wireless network and all.  But I have a friend coming over this weekend to make sure it doesn't happen any more, if it's happening at all.  As for work, I guess there's nothing I can do.

****

I called my dad on his birthday. He talked to Hope for a while and me for a little bit longer.  I couldn't really tell you what we talked about, just this and that.  He had been (was) drinking.  He was slurring and going round and round in the conversation.  He's a brilliant man.  When he's sober, he's probably the smartest person I know in the world (sorry, Brian.)  But when he's drinking, it's like talking to a child.  He told me how wonderful and bright and perfect Hope is, and I agreed. 

Hope had just had a history lesson at school, apparently last week some time was Hershey's birthday, so they talked about Hershey Town and all that in class.  So when Hope found out my dad lives in Pennsylvania she just about DIED!  So Daddy promised to send her chocolate this week and sure enough (although I was positive he'd forget) a nice note (written in large, 1st grade readable print,) two crisp fifty dollar bills, a ceramic chocolate bowl full of Hershey chocolates and an official Hershey t-shirt (purple, her favorite color, just like she'd told him) showed up on our doorstep for her today.

We called at 8:00 tonight to thank him.  I just got off the phone with him at around 9:30.  He talked to Hope for a few minutes, then she talked to Ellen, his wife, for a while.  Ellen makes Hope gifts every year, beautiful hand made things, quilts and last year, some gorgeous pj's which Hope was wearing tonight in honor of the chocolate gift.  Then Daddy talked to me for a while.  I regaled him with my million dollar cat stories and out of the blue, he asked if he could speak with my mother.

WHOA.  Dude....

He was drunk, by the way. So, so, so drunk...at his body weight and at what I'm sure his tremendous tolerance level is, I'd estimate at least a fifth, perhaps more, by the end of our conversation.  He's always been a functional drunk.  He can (and does) always get up in the morning and go to work, no matter how much he's had to drink.  I can't figure out how he does it, but somehow he does.

So what can I do, but let him talk to my mother.  He talked to her for while, he was basically checking on me.  Finding out if I was still drinking or not.  Making sure I was healthy and wanted at "real" perspective on the whole thing.  He asked if there was anything he could do to "help", basically my mom just told him the real help would be some kind of reassurance that if anything ever happened to her, he might be there to do something for me and Hope.  He was feeling all pensive and remorseful and kept talking about their relationship and how things ended, and all that stuff.  I only caught her end of the conversation, but basically that was it.

Finally I got back on the phone with him.  Then he turned really maudlin.  Asking me if I still loved him, if I'd ever loved him, did I think we could ever have a father/daughter relationship again.  Telling me I thought he was a horrible father and telling me he'd do things differently if he had a chance to do them over again.  We both knew (I think) what he was really talking about, as far as being a bad father, but I wasn't going to say it and he most certainly wasn't going to say it.  I just told him he was my father and that I loved him and I'd always loved him and I always would.  That things that happened in the past were over and done with and didn't affect the present or the future. 

He'll never know or understand that the sexual abuse is NOT the thing I remember that brands him forever as a "terrible father" but rather the things he did to me to COVER the sexual abuse.  He wouldn't let me out of the house, he wouldn't let me be with my friends, join clubs, play sports, have sleep-overs, go to parties, football games, date or do anything that would put me in a position where I might find someone to confide in.  He took away my childhood.

He never knew I'd never tell anyone.  I loved him too much to shame him by telling anyone. 

All his machinations to keep me from telling turned me into what I became, insecure and afraid of life...unless I drunk enough to shrug off my lack of social experience and experience emotions, experience life.  I don't blame my alcoholism on anything.  It is what it is, and runs so hard and so long on both sides of my family, it'd probably be there anyway, but I do think I might have been more emotionally mature had I had a "normal" childhood.

He wants me to take Hope and fly up to see him and Ellen.  I'd like to see him.  I know, it sounds strange, but I do love him, he's my daddy, and I do love him.  I'm not afraid to take Hope up there.  Again, I know that sounds strange...of course, I also know she'd NEVER be alone with him.  Not for one single second.

I'm more afraid of the drinking thing.  Seeing him drunk.  He was drunk all my life.  Most of my memories, good and bad, are of him drunk.  He was a very nice drunk and a very mean one.  Depending on if you were doing exactly what he wanted or not. Ellen will be there, but the last time I went to visit him (a long time ago) he drank, I drank...that's just what happened.  My mom's afraid for us to go.  She worries about Hope.  I mean, she worries about ME too, but if I get drunk that's one thing, but if I get drunk and I'm in Pennsylvania with Hope, that's quite another thing.

He hung up pretty quickly.  One minute he was offering to arrange plane tickets and telling me (and I quote) "If you want to kill me, all you have to do is say "no" when I offer to pay your way.  I'm that desperate to see you."  Then, he was off the phone and that was it...hardly time for me to catch my breath.

I don't know what to think.  I'm a little shell shocked. This all happened because of a little birthday phone call a few days ago (his birthday is the day after my sobriety date, ironic) and the fact that I let Hope talk to him for the first time.  I think that's what did it for him.  I think he thought I was deliberately keeping her from him.  I wasn't.  I was just too drunk when she was little, and too busy getting somewhat well since then.

But now, I just can't make a decision like this, you know?  Probably won't have to, he'll have forgotten about it by tomorrow.  But he didn't forget about the chocolate, did he?

To Smoke or not to Smoke

So I'm supposed to write about smoking or not smoking. I went to this website, the American Lung Association website, and they have all these module thingies and the first on is that I have to write about smoking or not smoking and I guess why I want to do both? I'm not sure I understand because they leave it pretty open ended, "Write about "To smoke or not to smoke."

Great directions, those.

Well. Smoking is something I use to pass the time. In fact, I haven't smoked in over an hour, so I think I'll go have one now.

Wow. I'm taking this seriously.

Okay, reasons to stop:
I'm getting lines around my mouth.
My teeth are getting stained.
I have a hacking cough most all the time.
I get Bronchitis at least twice a year that lingers for months.
My voice is getting Lucille Ball-ish.
It's expensive.
I'm starting to feel my own mortality. I'll be 39 this month. What if I already have lung cancer and I'm going to die and I won't get to see Hope's graduation or wedding or anything else important in her life?
I don't want to die early. I hate that my life is already more than half over and I spend 20 cigarettes a day making the time I have left even shorter.
I detest the taste and the smell.
My car has cigarette burns and ashes everywhere.
Hope has asthma, and although I didn't smoke while I was pregnant with her, what if just the scent on my clothes, in my hair and in my car is exacerbating her condition?
I hate the taste it leaves in my mouth and then I breathe it on her when I kiss her goodnight.
My grandfather lost a lung and my grandmother died of lung cancer.

Reasons not to quit:
Um.
Hmmm.
It's an excuse to go out in the garage to escape my child for a few minutes and read my book.
It's something I do at certain points along my drive to and from work to pass the time.
I'm afraid I'll gain weight.
It's a habit, and after all, I DID give up the only other "bad" habit I had.

I should be able to come up with more than this, for it being something that scares me so badly to try.

Okay, I'm not scared. I'm just lazy. This will take work and will power and motivation and all those other qualities I have in such short supply. I'm basically no good at saying no to anything. Even the hacking coughing fit I just had while typing this doesn't seem as hard to deal with as simply making a decision to quit. This website says I have to choose a "quit date" in three weeks. And it has to be cold turkey. I was thinking more along the lines of Hope's birthday, March 8, and NOT quitting cold turkey, just kind of tapering off and plus, I have like, seven more packs of cigarettes and I can't let them go to waste, right?

This sucks. I guess I need a new counter. This many days without a cigarette. Only I can't start the timer today. Maybe tomorrow.