I met up with the girls last night and ate and drank enough to make me scream in frustration at my lack of cigarettes. I was making K light my cigarettes and blow the smoke in my face. Eventually, I ended up at my brother's friends' house where I smoked exactly one puff of a cigarette and nearly threw up--those herbs (Q extract) I'm taking really work. I loaded up on ringpops at 7-11 today, as they are the best substitute for me right now, but every little thing--I'm a fucking saint for not punching somebody in the face yet.
It's really as simple as me knowing that I've quit--not that I'm quitting, but that I have quit. I'm not saying it's easy, this is probably the worst thing I've ever put myself through, but I can't play games with myself, cutting down on the nicotine or using patches or gums. It's all or nothing for this situation and it's all a mindset.
When I woke up this morning, I felt good. Not just okay, not fantastic, but good. I was up early enough to get a lot done around the house, including going for a run/skip/walk with Damien all around the neighborhood, which was amazing. I need to keep the weight off that I've lost from Aaron moving out--no idea how much I weigh now but my size 2 stuff is loose--for a few more weeks, the reason behind that to be told after it's over. It's a great fucking story, but it needs an ending.
My sense of smell is coming back and holy shit does my house stink like rotten dogs. The only calories in my system are from ringpops and gum and mentos. Sh-sh-sh-sh-sugar high weeeee!