I know, I know…it is a
disgusting, nasty, shameful addiction. I
was never proud to be a smoker. To make
this post easier for those who find my habit offensive and vile…I will
substitute smoking with ‘joking’ for
the rest of my post.
I loved joking. It was my coping mechanism and my vice. Needing a joke
was an excuse to take a moment for myself. When people ask me how I managed to get
through the last 20 years raising my 3 kids I rarely admitted the truth…joking.
I didn’t actually hide my joking,
but I didn’t advertise it either.
I loved joking.
It was an excuse to go outside and be alone. It meant time for me even if it was only for
2, 5 or 10 minutes. No one wanted to ‘hear my jokes’ so I would sit in the
garage and savor the moments. When the
kids were young, joking was a way to
calm down and reset myself. The kids
have grown, become more independent, and the stress levels have dropped.
Why was I still joking?
I told myself that someday the right reason would come along to
encourage me to stop.
I quit joking once for 2 whole years.
I started up again after an especially tragic event happened to one of
my children. Truthfully- the event was
an excuse to start again. I turned to my
vice because no one would tell me not to at that time. Even my husband said he understood. (I have a
very patient husband.)
For the last 12 years I
have joked knowing that I would one
day need to quit again. I had done it
once before and I knew what to expect.
It sucks rotten eggs! Those
memories are not the best motivators.
Then Grandma was diagnosed
with breast cancer. As I read through
the paperwork from her biopsy, a word kept bouncing off the page…
CARCINOGEN
I know jokes contain carcinogens.
“WHAT THE HELL AM I
DOING????”
My mother-in-law is very
health conscious.
She eats right. She takes care of herself.
My mother-in-law has cancer!
I need to at least quit joking.
Eating right and taking care of myself can come afterwards. So, at 9:30, the morning of her first
chemotherapy I joked for the last
time.
After her treatment was
finished I went straight from the hospital to the drug store and bought “The
Patch”. I had seizures as a child so I
can’t take Chantix, and “The Patch” worked for me last time.
I didn’t tell anyone. If I spoke of it aloud, then others would hold
me accountable. If I went public with my
decision- then I had to stick to it.
My family didn’t notice
for 24 hours. I finally told Kelsey the
next afternoon because I realized that if no one knew- I might just start up
again. I told John when he got home from
work that night. I had made it through
the first 24 hours and wanted to make sure I stuck with it for another 24.
According to an app I put
on my phone- it has been 23 days since my last joke. I have saved $178. (Jokes are pricey!) I feel better. My body is adjusting. The worst is behind me. I can’t say I’ll never joke again…but I’m trying my hardest.
