Day 23: My First Cigarette

15,000

I and my best friend Brandi stole a whole pack of cigarettes from my parent's carton that they kept on the fridge.  I remember puffing on the darn things, not inhaling, but thinking we were pretty cool.  We were twelve. Cigarettes turned into a habit by the time I turned thirteen.  We would sneak, steal and even find cigarette machines to buy them from.  Access to cigarettes was simple, and really only mean scrounging enough money for the next pack.  

Twenty-five years.  That is over 15,000 hours of doing nothing but smoking a cigarette.  Sure I may have been reading or talking, but my fingers saw 15,000 hours of holding a cigarette.  My lungs held smoke in them for 15,000 hours.  This realization makes me very ill.  More than ill, I am angry.  Angry enough to get through another day.  Angry enough that I never want to waste another minute for nothing.  Nothing.  15,000.  I want to cry for what I have wasted.

The Biggest Tragedy of My Smoking Habit

I found out this year that my 15 year old daughter smokes.  She enjoys it.  Never wants to quit.  All of her friends smoke.  My guilt and sadness is overwhelming.  So sad.  I can't help but feel that this is my fault.  I never smoked in the house or the car, but still it was there.  It was a part of her because it was a part of her momma.  Now she has made it her own reality.

I could not smoke without thinking about what she is up against, and my responsibilities.  She feels she won't quit smoking and getting her to quit will be impossible - I have to do everything I can.  The first step was to stop myself.  I have 22 notches in my belt.  Now I need to educate her.  Scare her.  I don't know.  I can't let her do this.  I can't let her relive my life.