Goal 1, Day 1 ...

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I awoke this morning as a non-smoker. Or at least that was my intention...

A few weeks back I wrote on here about my three life-changing goals I have mapped out: quit smoking, get back to the gym/eat more healthy & get out of debt. I have myself three separate dates to begin each, but never mentioned them to anyone. If I failed, or worse yet, never even attempted to start, then I really didn't want any more disappointment that what I would've dished out upon myself.

Yesterday was supposed to be my "prep day" for goal number one: cleaning, wiping down the mini-blinds, basically ridding the house of the aroma of stale cigarette smoke that has undoubtedly accumulated on every surface but unnoticed by me. But instead of cleaning, yesterday I awoke with sudden need to get things off my chest. I don't know if I had possibly had some sort of a dream to make me feel this but all morning, I felt a desperate need to write.

So, stealing a page from my friend, Rob's self-help manual, I sat infront of my computer and began to write a letter. A letter to a long-ago ex-boyfriend who had controlled my life. A form of "Therapy E-mail" as Rob likes to describe it. I really had no idea where the letter would take me or what I would write about. Nor did I have any clue that I would wind up sitting there at my desk for nearly two hours typing feverishly and reliving details from a relationship a lifetime ago. Least of all, I never realized the feelings of anger and hatred that would rise and swell inside me and spill out onto my computer screen.

By the time I had finished I was emotionally drained, but I didn't feel finished yet. There was still more to be said about a few other things going on in my life. So, I turned back to my computer, opened my email program and wrote a long winded letter to my friend, Scott, up in Maine.

When that letter was finally complete, I felt even more drained. I was seriously wanting a cigarette and my pack had already been finished off about an hour earlier. It was mid-afternoon and my original plan was to finish the pack of cigarettes I had that day (trying to spread them out into the evening) and that would be that. No more smokes. During the course of the day, I would be cleaning non-stop. But after writing for over 2 hours on my blog and then writing another long emotionally draining letter to Scott, the last thing I could think of was cleaning and the ONLY thing that dominated my mind was the need for a smoke.

I quickly grabbed a shower, got dressed and headed out the front door. I bought a pack of Marlboro's and walked the city streets, trying to clear my head. I found myself soon heading towards Uncles and quickly ducked inside for a beer. It was still early and I knew no one would be there, at least no one I really cared about. However, the place was loud with afternoon drunks and Willy's voice bouncing off the mirrored walls was enough to give me the feeling that my eardrums were about to begin bleeding, so I finished my beer and continued my walk.

Without even remembering how I got there, I found myself staring into the dark waters of the Delaware River, twenty blocks from my house. I stood on the cement banks and stared. A PATCO train slowly crossed the Ben Franklin Bridge. Joggers passed by me on the brick pathway. A sailboat lazily drifted downriver, its occupants basking in the afternoon sunlight. I stood there, unmoving, for about five minutes, taking everything in, the sounds, the smells, the sights. Across the river in New Jersey, past the waterfront development, I could make out the hazy treeline of some distant hill beyond Camden's city limits. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the warm summer air fill my lungs. When I opened my eyes again, everything was the same. I really didn't know what to expect; maybe some sort of revelation, some clue as to what I was doing here. But everything was as it was; no clearing of the mind, to great idea, nothing. So, Like Forrest Gump when he reached the Atlantic Coastline, I simply turned around and headed back towards the city.

Needless to say, no prepwork was done to help me with Goal #1. The furthest I had gotten with that yesterday was a few loads of laundry, emptying and washing out my ashtrays and making the decision that, for the remainder of the day, any smoking will be done outside on the stoop. No great battle plan, but it was a start.

So...back to this morning, this first day of this first goal...

My alarm sounded at six a.m. and my eyes opened. I reached out and hit the alarm off. I was a non-smoker and I felt as if I could take on the world!

The feeling, unfortunately, lasted a fraction of a second when I remembered the 1/2 pack of cigarettes lying on the table downstairs in the livingroom. I can almost feel them taunting me; urging me out of bed to share with them that first cool drag of the morning which would ultimately set the tone for each drag thereafter. I can imagine the pack dancing across the back of the sofa, long female stockinged legs in high heeled shoes tapping across the back cushions, a provocative little twist of toe on the pillow, mimicing one stamping out a cigarette on a sidewalk. I can almost hear them calling out to me, begging me to smoke them. Their chorus of tiny voices sounding much like the high pitched giggles that first drifted out from deep within the colorful bushes to greet Dorothy when she took that long ago trip.

I needed coffee, but coffee would only encourage the smoking. They go hand in hand like peanut butter and jelly, Abbott and Costello, Shaggy and Scooby.

I eventually fell back to sleep.

I awoke a half hour later to my phone alarm going off. I quickly silented the second alarm and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. I decided that my need for coffee was driving my desire for a cigarette, so I wasn't going to get out of bed to make any. I was just going to stay here until the time came to get into the shower. If the craving got too strong, I would simply force myself to nap for a few minutes.

Most people find this odd, but it's a habit I had long ago adopted from my mother. We are both slow morning risers and each set our alarm clocks hours before we actually need to be up. This gives me the opportunity to lounge around in bed while the coffee's brewing, watch the morning news and not have to worry about rushing to take a shower and get out the door. So forcing myself to take little naps to avoid the urge to smoke, even if it is making me miss my much needed morning coffee, wasn't such a major issue. I still had at least 90 minutes before I had to leave the house.

(To be continued...)

**author's note** unfortunately, by the time this is posted, I will have already failed my goal of the day. I really don't feel all that bad. I've been up since 6am and I had one cigarette at 6:30-PM All of this writing about the desire to smoke actually made said desire that much stronger. I'll talk about that more tomorrow.