Day 1.5 or the worst kind of relapse

I'm not even going to attempt to portray this in a humorous light: me, last night, digging through a potted plant out in front of the house, dirt under fingernails, smoking a butt that can't be fresher than Christmas break. Cut to me this morning, 5 AM, driving to the 24-hour convenience store in Seminole, buying a pack.

Going to start stopping again Friday. I've got the seven-hour drive tomorrow, and I don't think I'm up for facing that beast of a trigger just yet. Needless to say, the Zimmerman sweater, which I finished the ribbing on yesterday, will not get any attention today. Going to resume it when I resume the gum Friday morning. Also have a doc appointment later that day to ask about Chantix.

I'm not a religious person by any means, but I will gladly accept your prayers or well wishes at this point.

Day One

So I honestly felt that I would get up this morning and feel fantastic; the not smoking would be a non-issue, and I'd dive into my first Zimmerman project with aplomb. Also worth noting is that in this fantasy, I'm about 20 pounds lighter.

This wasn't the case. I've been a little shocked at how long and how unnerving today has been. The gum really doesn't seem to be helping, and the only thing that has aided with the whole wanting-to-crawl-out-of-your-skin sensation has been the four naps I've taken here at rehab (mom's house). Mentally, the day has been full of bargaining. Maybe I could keep smoking and just cut down....Only smoke on weekends, that's it!...Or how about on road trips? Who's up for a quick cross country jaunt?

The bargaining has been the most disheartening part of the whole day. I really felt like my resolve was steely last night when I snuffed out the last cig, but the whole "Let's Make a Deal" experience, hosted by my evil subconscious,is making me question just how much I want this.

Addiction is awesome.

But...the silver lining! My first Zimmerman project is on the needles. I was surprised to find out just how easy it was to figure out gauge for the seamless raglan sweater (my future self, the one wearing the lop-sided, two-sizes too large sweater is dying of the LULZ)! And I had to admit I felt a little excited when my gauge with a worsted wool was the same as EZ's. BFFs? I think so. Mom and I are about to head to the coffee shop to knit on, so hopefully I can get some pictures up for tomorrow (of the knitting. Trust me, you do not want to see my ashen, crazed face at the moment).

I'll leave you with this, from Ms. Zimmerman herself: "Knit on with confidence and hope, through all crisis."

Another beginning

My name is Ben, and I've been a smoker for 14 years. As sad as this sounds, it is a crucial part of my identity, having never experienced adulthood without the addiction. There's nothing like previously unsuccessful quit attempts to teach you about yourself, and unfortunately, during the six serious times I've tried to quit I've learned that smoking and I are interlocking puzzle pieces. I've got a majorly addictive personality--food, smokes, worrying, adorably and not-at-all-creepy owl bric-a-brac--and nicotine is one of the most addictive and, amazingly, legal substances available on god's green earth. So needless to say it's been my own personal, stinky stinky onus. So hear I am again--two years since my last attempt--staring down at the familiar last.pack.of.cigs.I.will.ever.smoke.EVER!!! ,earnestly hoping that this time it is true.

So again I stand at this familiar precipice armed with the familiar dream of being able to fully feel free and the familiar nicotine replacement therapy (minty fresh gum), but something has changed. This time I have a secret weapon. A weapon so formidable that a substance most scientists agree is more addictive than heroin will have to stand down and cower at its might. The weapon? YARN.

I've been a knitter for eight months now, and I have to admit that knitting (and the regular company of knitters, some of the best people in the world) has been the best thing I've done for myself in a long time. What to say about knitting? I've been thinking about how to articulate my like of the craft, excuse me, fiber art for a few days now, and while I hoped something brilliant would have come along, I've arrived at only two theories: it's grounding, and it's really fun to make pretty things. Isn't that enough?

So yes. Yarn. But more than compulsive knitting is needed to keep the nicobeast at bay. Structure. A challenge. And a guru, a guru who this knitter is choosing as his higher power in what is destined to be a more than 12-step program: Elizabeth Zimmerman, the dowager empress queen of knitting. More about EZ later for those who are trying to be cute and acting like you've never heard of the mistress of knit, but for now, know that as of tomorrow morning, I will begin my attempt to knit everything in her seminal guide to the craft, Knitting without Tears, in one year. Granted I'm substituting a sweater for one of her jackets (a fair substitution if you ask me), but at the end of the year I should have five sweaters, two jackets, four hats, three pairs of socks, slippers, knee-high stockings, two pairs of mittens, and a partridge in a pear tree. Most importantly, I will have spent my energy, mental and physical, on something positive and lovely, and I will find the strength to respect my health.

Please, please wish me luck.