Working it out

I haven't had any time to write about my journey lately, sorry. I'm plodding along. This past week I had family visiting. I love my family but this was stressful as hell. I came into this week telling myself to breath and immediately rushed into a restorative yoga class. Yesterday I took a full on physical, sweaty lets just work it all out kind of class and ended up crying at the end. I just needed to get it out. I have a few little Summer jobs and one of them is not enjoyable at all. There are some really toxic personalities floating about. A few times I have seriously wanted to stick a cigarette in my mouth and just watch everything go up in smoke. I didn't and here's why. Cigarettes will not help family communications, nor will they make the temporary co-workers attitudes become bearable. What cigarettes will do is make me sick, if not now, eventually. What will happen is right after I smoke I'll feel tired and fatigued and will not have the energy to deal with all the intense interactions I have to deal with, this will in turn make me emotionally venerable and to protect myself I will get sick. I don't need to smoke, I need to make some big decisions in my life, confront my issues. Scary man, scary........

In the meantime, it's a slow ascent up the mountain.

Graduation Day!

Thursday was the last day of our group. We had a party, complete with cupcakes! It really did feel like there was an accomplishment to celebrate. Our group will meet again in six weeks to touch base. I'm glad were meeting again, the accountability is a big motivator. I'm rooting for myself and my group mates, I look forward to seeing them in September. It's been amazing and inspirational to see the physical change each week. This has been a wonderful experience filled with committed people who have been incredibly motivating. If only more of life could be this supportive.

For now I remain in my healing process. I still have urges in the evening, but they grow weaker with time and less annoying. Tomorrow makes six weeks........ And away I go, living life.

Screw you for not smoking

From Salon.com
Last fall, after 13 years of pleasurable puffing, I smoked my last cigarette. I thought quitting would make me feel healthy and hale -- so why the hell is my body falling apart?
By Rebecca Traister

March 14, 2007 After having smoked cigarettes every day for 13 years, I took my last drag on Oct. 10, 2006. Like most smokers, I'd considered quitting many times, set arbitrary dates for cessation, pondered patch-gum-Wellbutrin methodology, and never brought any plan to fruition. My choice to stop this fall took me by surprise; I hadn't planned it, and while the process was excruciating, the moment of decision was as simple as going to bed one night and realizing that "it" -- my life as a smoker, which I had really, really loved -- was over. Also unexpected is that so far, I have not backslid, though I'm not hubristic enough to pretend that this won't get harder with the return of warm weather and outdoor dining to Brooklyn, N.Y. But what has truly floored me is what has happened to my body since I shocked it by taking away its daily feed of nicotine and tar.
This is not going to be a piece about how as soon as I put down the cancer sticks, my heart began pounding stronger, bringing rosy color to my suddenly smooth cheeks, or how my hair grew lustrous and I began tasting food better and my lungs expanded to gulp in billows of fresh air, like a princess awakened from her carcinogenic coffin after the evil Camel's spell was lifted. That's the tale I'd been told by many smug people who urged me to quit over the years. This is about what actually happened.
October
Unsurprisingly, I gained some weight. There are many explanations for why quitters pack on pounds: Cigarettes speed up metabolism; they are appetite suppressants; the oral fixation they satisfy can be sated only by French fries. Here's what was true for me: During those first weeks without smokes, I rewarded my daily virtue on a pasta-and-pork-product-based system. I also treated myself by trading in my loathed morning cardio workout for yoga. I'd previously prided myself on being the only woman in her 30s in New York never to have taken a yoga class, but I'd gathered that the practice might aid the post-smoking cleansing process. Or something. As it turns out, beginning yoga, while fun, does not torch calories.
I made my peace with the extra baggage. Except for the smoking, I am in relatively good shape: strong and muscular, I eat vegetables and lean proteins and I don't drink soda. As I shoveled in delicious dinners, I decided that 10 pounds was a reasonable price for kicking my wickedest habit. I was less prepared for what happened to my skin. At 31, I have not yet become transfixed by the thin lines wending their way from my eyes, and I'd heard that quitting would brighten and smooth whatever imperfections might vex me. But a week after my last cigarette, things began to go very badly on my face. I broke out in angry blemishes, I got a canker sore inside my bottom lip, and my complexion ran the gamut from pallid to waxen. Perhaps, I reasoned, employing the kind of New-Agey logic that leads people to believe they need colonics, it was decades' worth of toxins being expelled through my skin.
They were certainly being expelled from my lungs! One of the knee-slapping ironies about smoking is that many people who quit promptly develop a scratchy throat and hacking cough, producing globs of repulsive substances as their scilia come lurchingly back to life after decades of nicotine-induced slumber. And as soon as they get back to their job, shooing bad stuff away from the pulmonary system and showing the stuff that's already there the door, it's a multi-Kleenex rainbow tour of phlegm.

To read all of Rebecca Traister's wickedly funny journey to a smoke free world click here

July 10 - July 11, 2009

OK, so its been a rocky road since the fourth. So what do I have going for me. I have a lot and now seems like a good time to tell you some of it. I have 34 smoke free days under my belt. I am healthy,happy and more in love with my yoga practice than I have ever been in my life. I have been taking class every day. Breathing, living and loving my practice. This is going to see me across the bridge to to the other side. I just know it.

I am going to take a post from my regular blog and repeat it here.

( date of post June 28th)

lately I have been saying to myself, " Be the change. Be the change" I walk my dogs, go about my day, grocery shop, write reports, go to meetings, pay the bills and I tell myself over and over" be the change... be the change." There is something internal going on inside of me. Something profound that I am at this point unable to articulate yet feel in every fiber of my being. So Friday I am in yoga class, burning off my karma and opening up my heart chalkra and my teacher Jenna says,"If you wanna make the world a better place take a look at yourself and then make the change."

ahh.... thank you girl, that was perfect and to you Mr. Jackson, I really didn't know you very well but I am very sorry things were so terribly painful for you. I hope the next time is much better. Thank you for the message, I'll take it to heart.

Yup, I am the change. The change forward to something better, the change to embrace life, the change toward self empowerment. So maybe my ass doesn't fit on my bike seat these days but my heart is definitely in the right place and fitting nicely into my life.

July 9,2009

I schlep into my smoking cessation group. I'm a little late and not feeling great to say the least. The fourth of July really knocked the sails out of my wind. As I enter, the group facilitator asks me how I'm doing. I relate my story of inducement and near failure. As it turns out, it was a bad night for all of us. My group mates fared no better and smoked a few. We processed what happened and how we were feeling and what we could do to avoid this entrapment the next time. The truth is situations are going to lure us in. As much as I try to place myself in safe situations, things are going to come up that are completely our of my control. I'm going to need strategies. I need to work on this, I do not have all I need to help myself in this area. Also slips may happen. A slip is one cigarette and you get back into your quit and your healing. A complete fall is buying a pack of cigarettes and sending off smoke signals. Forgive the slip and avoid the fall. Here's a distressing note to end on. One cigarette, ( a slip) can have adverse affects and setback someone with COPD for an entire month. Stuff that in your pipe and smoke it!

July 5,2009

Sunday we go for a bike ride. My self esteem has taken a real hit. I feel as big as a house and just not feeling good about myself. Everywhere I look I see lovely ladies, bicycling, jogging, walking their dogs. I realize my ass is too big for my bicycle seat. My ass is killing me, I really need a wider seat. This realization is not helping. I want to get beyond this point, this sucks.

July 4, 2009

Fourth of July, I am going to a barbecue. I don't know the host but its close by and should be fun. We can barbecue, watch fireworks and go home. Excellent, perfect, what could be better! Am I insane? What a fucking nightmare. Everyone is drinking and smoking. There are hamburgers and hot dogs and potato chips with a little potato salad on the side. I hate potato salad. I don't eat meat, I'm Kosher and I'm really hungry. People are drinking and smoking all around me. This is an urban party with a lot going on. Lots of men and sex in the city ladies and stuff happening all around me. I feel like a beached whale, a hungry beached whale. The fireworks just aren't starting. We literally wait hours and still nothing. I can't take it I've reached my limit when someone offers me a cigarette and I'm totally ready and reaching for it. Fortunately the man intercedes. We leave right after this incident. I am shaken. My faith in my ability is shaken. I feel like shit and to top it off we missed the fucking fireworks.