PART EIGHT Fight the Good Fight?

Last Saturday we drove all the way to south Austin and I paid a lady $300 to touch a pencil-sized wand to certain pressure points in my face and hands. It was slightly warm to the touch and I had to wear protective glasses to shield my eyes from the laser thing.

At the beginning of the process I sorta wanted a cigarette. By the end, I didn't want one at all. For the next several hours, I had that I Wanna Smoke feeling just a tiny bit but not nearly what I am used to. We had a stressful event, resolved it, and I sat down. I craved a cig badly. Physically, the craving was there. Mentally, the craving was there. I waited for it to pass.

It did not pass. I decided to sneak into the bathroom and had a smoke. Later, around midnight, the neighbor's dog barked for an hour. I couldn't sleep. I waited for the dog to go hoarse or something. She did not. Even though, physically I really did want a cig, I had one anyway.

The next day, I woke up feeling pretty OK. I cleaned the living room for about 3 hours. I had a craving like you wouldn't believe. I kept myself busy and snapped at Shawn pretty harshly a couple times. They say the craving should pass in 2-3 minuets. I kept cleaning. After the three hours of cleaning, I gave in.

Shawn found me outside, sympathy in his eyes. Ms. Frier called me that night and I told her I didn't understand the difference in how I felt that day compared to Saturday. I wanted to do the laser thing again and she said she'd be happy to.

I smoked all week. Most days, only about a half pack--which is something considering I'd been smoking almost 3 packs daily. But of course as any smoker knows, by Friday I was up again. I smoked a whole pack of cigs on Friday.

On Saturday, we made the trip once more and Ms. Frier did the laser thing at no charge. I was once again, psyched up. I decided that cleaning wasn't the best way to take my mind off of wanting a smoke. I needed to busy my hands and my mind. I had bought a $30 video game for our Portable Playstation. Ech. Another $30 we didn't really have. If it would help me quit smoking, so be it, I thought.

Six hours later, I had awoken from a nap--craving a smoke like I'd never even had the laser therapy at all.

We hadn't been smoking in the house all week. Correction--I hadn't been smoking in the house. Shawn has been while I was at work. I sat outside and smoked. Of course it tasted awful and I just didn't care at the moment. "So are we going back next weekend?" Shawn asked, half joking.

"No," I murmured. "I guess I'm gonna smoke the rest of my life till I get lung cancer. I dunno."

Disappointed in myself....that would be an understatement. I ask that you don't judge me unless you tried to quit smoking or if you couldn't resist that cake while on a diet. Of course I judge myself more harshly than anyone alive.

Anger, disappointment, depression, weakness--all these things I feel. The words do not even begin to describe it.

Why not just stop? All you have to do is not smoke.
Sounds easy, doesn't it?

I could write ooddles on all of this, really. I could write a page on what is going on in my head. But I just don't care right now. I know this experience does not mean I will not try to quit again, but I am greatly discouraged.

And my hair stinks.