Sometimes I miss smoking.
I used to be a very heavy smoker.
From 17 to 27, I smoked one or two packs a day. Every damn day.
And I loved it.
I wasn't a social smoker, a party smoker, an after dinner smoker, a when I'm stressed smoker.
I was an all the time smoker. It was the first thing I did when I woke up and the last when I went to bed.
Then I got pregnant and I had to quit cold turkey. It was horrible. I hated it.
So a couple of years later, when my husband left me, the first thing I did was buy a pack of cigarettes.
Six months later, I thought, well, it's all chaos around me right now, but there's one thing I can control. The next day I bought patches and 3 months later I was nicotine free.
I've never touched a cigarette since then. It's been almost 13 years. Two years after I quit, my mom passed from throat cancer. She had been smoking two packs a day since she was 14.
So obviously, my decision to quit smoking was excellent.
But sometimes, not often though, I miss smoking. I miss the person I was when I took it up: young, free, careless, fearless, unburdened.
My cigarette-free me is my adult, responsible, sensible self.
She's a bit of a bore but she manages to show up for me whenever I really need a ride back to reality.
She's the one telling me to be at my desk every morning when I could just go back to bed after I take my son to school.
She's not the fun one, but she's actually kept me, my family and my business afloat for all those years.
So although sometimes I miss not having to be reasonable at all times, I'm actually starting to like non-smoker me more than fun smoker me.
Plus I can't stand the smell of cig smoke anymore. So that's that.
But damn, I miss smoking sometimes...