Welcome, I Love the Rain, and congratulations on your journey to staying quit
First of all, I want to say how sorry I am you lost your mother unexpectedly. My husband lost his mother suddenly back in October and I had intended to start cutting back to quit, but the stress lead to us both smoking far more intensely than we had before. We officially quit just before midnight on New Year's Eve. We quit cold turkey. Both of us had bad experiences with NRT in the past. 1 Corinthians 10:12-13 was my life verse during those first couple of weeks.
I pray that your tests went well yesterday and you received good news from the doctor, a clean bill of health.
We're in the same boat, sister. I think it may have to do with how after those first few weeks we begin to let our guard down. At first our every waking thought (and oftentimes even our dreams) are vividly focused on either the act of smoking or the act of quitting smoking. Each step and thought and word is carefully crafted around not smoking. Once the overwhelming preoccupation with quitting subsides we tend to only think about it when we see someone else smoke or we have a fleeting craving. The reality is that no matter how long we have been an ex-smoker, we will get the occasional craving. We're nicotine addicts, just like alcoholics are addicted to alcohol and junkies are addicted to heroin. We can stay quit until the day we die, but the reality is that we were once addicts totally dependent on the legal drug called nicotine. That never fully goes away. We learn how to cope. Most of the time we aren't even tempted; however, once our guard is down and staying quit isn't at the forefront of our mind, all it takes is for one bad craving to shake us to the core and cast doubt on our ability to stay "clean".
We, as humans, also fear failure. In the beginning of quitting most people, if they reflect rather honestly and thoughtfully, fear success. At first we hope we will fall into some sort of snare that will give us an excuse to start the habit again. We want to seem helpless so we can tell people, "see? It's no use. I'm a hopeless case. I'll be a smoker until the day I die". We don't want to know what life without cigarettes is like. It means changing everything. It means sometimes very uncomfortable and very real physical withdrawal symptoms. It means we sometimes have to either temporarily or permanently alter our daily schedule, dietary habits, social outings or even our circle of friends. It means having to embrace stress and everything else we used to encounter with cigarette in-hand empty-handed. After awhile, however, we not only grow tolerant of our new life without smoking, we come to prefer it and wonder why we ever took up the nasty habit in the first place. At that point we come to fear failure.
I like to think of how awful withdrawal made me feel. Those first few days of being absolutely insufferable to be around, of curling up in the fetal position and sobbing all day long for no reason, the headaches that bordered on migraine level, the lack of appetite, the fatigue, the difficulties concentrating, the blurred vision, the insomnia. Not even so much as a puff is worth going through that torture again, because I know I can't just take one little puff. One little puff would lead to one little pack of cigarettes, for old time's sake. One little nostalgic pack would lead to one little carton for convenience sake. And from there I'm back to where I was before I quit. My son is also a powerful motivator. I will forever cherish the day, about a week after I'd quit and was almost certain quitting was a terrible idea of mine, he hugged me and said, "Mommy, you smell so pretty now that you don't smell like smoke".
RuthD, you are a successful quitter. From this point on it's maintenance. It's staying the course. Don't set yourself up for failure by assuming you can't do it. You already have! All you must do now is stay courageous and tell nicotine "NO!" I know you can do it.