September 20

Butting It Out

**Note 1** I actually started writing this several months ago. Then summer happened and came along with it were the tough choices of whether or not I’d rather be frolicking outside or banging my head against my lap top trying to string together words I’m happy with.

If only there was an emoji for my decision making abilities…

Oh wait, there is…

poo

Maybe I’m being too hard on myself. I’ve turned out okay(ish) depending on the day of the week and the time of the month, so I suppose I’ve done a few things right.

I have, however, made one decision I can finally say I am – without a doubt – proud of and have zero regrets or second thoughts.

And no, it has nothing to do with my dating life.

**Note 2** At the time of initially writing this, my dating life was still on its nine-year hiatus and that has surprisingly changed, which is a story for another time.**

Anyway.

I quit smoking.

People quit smoking all the time… so why is this such a big deal for me?

My choice to begin in the first place isn’t one I’m proud of. Sometimes, you have to travel to the dark side to appreciate the light. Right? (Still waiting for the light to manifest itself into my romantic life).

**Note 3** Sometime last year, I was having a conversation with a friend about my lack luster love life. I brought up the topic of smoking and how I felt that it was something I had to give up before I could totally attract a healthy relationship – as much of what I had been attracting over the last decade has been toxic (not all, though!). I was treating myself with toxic habits and attracting similar relationships to the one I had with my self. Voila! Not long after butting it out, my perpetual single life smoldered out as well… again, a story for another time.

Regardless, it was a large part of who I was… and who I wasn’t.

In fact, I was such a stealthy smoker that most people in my life didn’t even know.

I was a mostly private – and heavy – puffer (of cigarettes, just to clarify) for 20 years.

Two decades.

That’s a long time.

For 20 years, I relied on these magic toxic filled sticks to make me feel at ease.  They were my dirty little companions in times of anxiety, excitement, boredom, and busyness. They were a social crutch. Ever been awkwardly waiting for someone at a bar? Easy, go for a smoke while you pretend to text someone.

They went great with wine, telephone conversations, driving, and they were my way to step back and quiet my mind. And let’s not forget coffee – nothing went better with caffeine than a dose of carbon monoxide.

Don’t even get me started on how great it was after sex… Well, so I’ve been told…

And I actually enjoyed it.

“Life is short… do what you enjoy. I could quit smoking and then I could get hit by a bus. It’s my only bad habit… I eat well and I exercise…. I really do take care of myself. I could have worse habits!”

This was my reasoning each and every time.

For twenty years I told myself that this was something I had full control over. I controlled them, not the other way around. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

The mere thought of going somewhere and not being able to have a cigarette or needing to hide it sent me into anxiety. Despite being careless with my own health, I was always cautious and considerate of those who I shared my bad habits with.

My car was stocked with the necessities. Gum, mouthwash, hand sanitizer, and body spray galore. I was like a Health and Beauty aisle at Walmart on wheels. Minus the Health part.

I had ‘quit’ several times over the years. Nothing stuck for more than a couple weeks, tops. I had tried the gum, patches, cold turkey and medications. The terrible dreams were one thing, but my raging bitch moods were another story. Don’t even get me started on being on Champix when you are PMSing. Guys, if you think we are too emotional then… think again.  You haven’t felt true toxic wrath until you’ve seen a crampy, high strung woman too bloated for her fat pants sans her cigarette. That terrifies even me.

I actually felt it was in the best interest of my own well-being and the safety of others to continue to light up.

Although I had ‘wanted’ to butt out for a long time, the one habit I never bothered to adjust was my thought patterns. I had always ‘worked’ on quitting smoking, but I never worked on my mind. For a while, I had only wanted to quit to have extra cash.

I had started CrossFit in 2012 to challenge my mental and physical strength. By no means do I consider myself highly competitive or even all that athletic, but I wanted something that pushed me just a little bit harder. I had only taken small sips of the proverbial Kool-Aid… which was enough to quench my thirst for a healthier lifestyle.

cfIt wasn’t solely CrossFit – much of it was also the changing social perception. Gone were the days of sandbox ashtrays in shopping malls and street corners. I had been a social outcast for the better part of my childhood and smoking was something I did to fit in to some -any- kind of crowd. Despite the changing laws and stigmas – it was still easy enough to hide. But, trying to mask the fact that I was losing a lung before the CrossFit warm-up was even over was getting to be a real challenge – and not the kind I signed up for. I dreaded things like sprints and thrusters, and wall balls and burpees were the absolute worst. And what was the first thing I did after walking out of the torture chambers? Torture my body even more. And not for positive gains.

The more I went, the more I began to feel like a hypocrite. That’s like claiming to be a nature lover as you nudge the remnants of your nic-stick into a sidewalk nook and cranny.

Finally, my mind began to change. Slowly but surely, I began to hate it. I had a hard enough time explaining to narrow minded people why I am was still single and child-less at 33, never mind trying to justify why I was dating the slick devilish darts.

smokeIt had occurred to me that my mind had been conditioned to think cigarettes were ‘cool’ and simply a part of ‘who I was’. The only way I could quit was to rewire my brain and adopt new ways of thinking. Rather than being accustomed to telling myself it was something I needed, I began to tell myself the opposite. (Now if I could only translate this into every other area of my life, I’d be set!) I also did what I have been seemingly good at in other areas of my life – I focused on the negatives. That’s right – but this time for good reason. I filled my brain with the very worst things I could think of. Rather than thinking about how much I enjoyed it with a cold beer on a hot summer night – I consciously thought about all the toxins I was polluting my body with and spent time asking Siri to show me blackened lungs.

One morning, I got into my car and left for work. I had one cigarette left. This is where panic mode would usually set in and I would need to b-line to the Mac’s store. I opened my glove box to dig out some change – only to have the content of primarily empty cigarette packages fall out. I stared at the pile of money I had turned into a toxic wasteland.

And that was it. This is stupid. I kept on driving – which might have been the best decision I have ever made.

Deep breath.

(Because I can do that now.)

 

June 10

Say Good Bye to the Yo-Yo

Part of being single for an extended period of time is the journey through self awareness and the analysis of the self that comes along with it. Some people do not focus on this, some do, and some go through a period of complete enlightenment.

I’ve always had a pretty good awareness of my own self – because really, I’ve hung out with that person a lot over the last few years.

It wasn’t so long ago, however, that despite my best efforts – I was uncomfortable with my physical self. I have always had battles with weight my entire life, yoyo-ing back and forth between the ‘skinny pants’ and the ‘fat pants’ .  I’ve never been excessively ‘large’, but I’ve also never been that super skinny chick at the beach, either. I don’t really want to be.

There was a point last year, however, where I found myself hitting an all time low (kind of an oxymoron I guess… more like an all time high)… and even my ‘fat pants’ didn’t fit. I had tipped the scale at 200lbs.. hitting a size 12-14 – which wasn’t much, but for me, my frame, height, and my own personal self – it was downright uncomfortable.

The number on the scale though is besides the point. I was not the best I could be and I wasn’t fully happy with myself. I was only happy ‘enough’. And what’s the fun in happy enough – when there can be more?

Someone once told me, that before you can begin to make changes you need to positively accept that which you currently have.

So I did.

I sat naked in front of the mirror and stared into my own eyes day after day until I could come to a place of acceptance. That being said, there is a difference between acceptance and being content. Contentment keeps you in the same place.

I had been so consumed with my outside surroundings and ‘things’ that we perceive as ‘home’ that I had forgotten about my real home. My own body.

When you really pay attention to it, it’s a pretty amazing thing. I decided that I would stop focusing on what I didn’t have in a negative fashion, and improve on what I did.

Dad’s legs? No problem. At least I have legs. If I didn’t, the treadmill might be tricky.  Too much belly? Nothing some cardio and crunches can’t fix.

Point is – at that very moment, I decided to make some permanent changes… as well as some attitude changes.

Screw this back and forth shit. If I am going to do something – I am going to do away with the excuses and JUST DO IT – and keep doing it. No matter how many different dwellings I find myself in over the course of my lifetime – my body is really the only one I’ll ever have, and if I am going to be living in it- I best be happy with it.

I found it disconcerting how many people forget about their bodies and spend tireless hours fixing their house or their car. Material things that really have no baring on whether or not you have life.

I adopted a pretty vigorous fitness schedule. Not quite drill-sergeant-ish, but enough to make some of my friends question what it would take for me to skip a fitness class.  I also never once called it a diet. Diet, to me, sounds like a chore.

The moment I decided to think differently about myself is when I started to notice change taking place. Over the course of a few months I dropped 3 sizes and soon enough found myself at a healthy size 8. That wasn’t a number I had seen in a few years.

The physical changes were nice, but it was what happened on the inside that got a make over. I had more energy, more determination, and pushing through the challenges and the discomfort allowed me to relay that to my personal life. Every work out started to feel better than the last and never felt like a chore –  I knew even though I was going to be able to fit that dress I wanted – I was changing what was on the inside.

Change begins in the mind, followed by action and commitment.

I would probably say yes to that second date… as long as it doesn’t interrupt with my Spin class.