Today is DAY 94 since I had a fag. After 10 long years of spending only-god-knows-how-much on ciggies everyday, I had finally kicked the habit.
Nope, I did not try those Nicotine patches and it sure wasn't the gum either. Actually... I had quit 'cold turkey'.
After 2 failed attempts on quitting and countless number of days (& not to mention nights) where my mum and friends had tried to psychologize me into believing that it really is bad for you, my 9 year old son, Paavaan was the one who had hit home with his inquisitive question and comment on smoking.
"Mum" he said, " Smoking is bad. People die from smoking". "Yes, people sure do" I said.
Then he asked, looking sad " So, you're gonna die soon from smoking, huh?"
I guess that did it for me. I had nothing to say.
Truth be told, I didn't know what to say to my 9 year old.
I was flabbergasted.
You see, I'm a single parent. A friend of mine had once pointed out to me that I'm both his father and his mother. And its true.
My son's conclusion on my life span kept echoing in my head. I felt like a knife was being pushed deep into my chest. It was awful. It was painful.
I wanted to, or rather, I needed to be around long enough to watch him leave high school, graduate from some over- priced uni, fall in and out of love, get his car license & his bike license, climb mountains, experience the joy that comes from winning swimming competitions & the sadness that comes from losing it, feel the wind on his face and live his life...
Sure, we all die some day. But I would have brought this upon myself no matter how I try to justify its validity, its need.
I'm proud to say that I no longer find a need to smoke my Dunhill reds & relish in its calming effect.
Now, I run instead.
