New Years Promise

New Year's Promise...

31/12/24 0600- 20

My arm lazily reaches across, and my finger searches for a second before finding the raised plastic edge. It firmly presses the black alarm button. The silence is bliss. After another slight cough, I let out a loud sigh and smiled happily at myself again. That is before another raspy cough again breaks the morning silence. I feel it as it rises slowly, scraping my throat, then leaves my mouth as it fades into another sigh. I smile softly to myself. It has almost become a habit, this rough awful sound that seems to prepare my lungs for the day ahead.

Actually, I've been lying awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the alarm. Ten long minutes of resisting. Resisting the urge, the almost visceral need to light up my first of the day.

It feels like I'm punishing myself. It's not just a battle against a physical craving but also a mental desire. I'm trying to redirect my thoughts, to push them away from this overwhelming and building idea of lighting up and breathing in pure pleasure.

As I stare at the ceiling, I notice the cobwebs. Too many, too thick. It's as if the spider is actively trying to reflect the chaos in my mind. I need to climb up on the bed and dust them off. To start the year both with the wall and myself clean.

But everything at this moment feels so impossible. Every second is a battle against my will, a mountain to climb. I have to hold on.

I really did not need to set the alarm. My bodyclock is amazing. I should be asleep, I am still on leave for another two days. I am not going to work. I set my alarm for a reason.

I planned to start my last day as a smoker with the alarm. A starting point for the day. I could have easily lit up fifteen minutes ago. I normally light up as soon as I wake, but I felt that today that would be cheating. Yesterday I could and would have desperately smoked two by now. I would have then been functional enough to get up.

With the second thump the alarm is finally quiet. I focus on lighting my first cigarette of my last

ever

pack. Yesterday I had made sure that I had bought one extra. I purposefully saved it just for today. As my chest rises under the duvet, the smoke feels good in my lungs. Waiting the extra fifteen minutes has made me appreciate it even more. My mother used to say about waiting for food. It would taste better. The smoke this morning certainly does. Those fifteen minutes was like torture. It's like I have always loved smoking, yet hate everything negative that they do to me. I can't help loving being wrapped up in a swirl of smoke. My secure safety blanket. Everything feels better when I smoke. Life is calmer, worries can dissipate with the cloud up and away towards the birds. There is of course a downside, I have now almost become a social outcast. Either because they have all got married with children and are far too busy and can't find time or arrange a sitter. They have all certainly quit smoking.

I feel lucky that I still have a couple of good, equally manless friends left.

When I started over twenty years ago, even then it was a declining norm. Yes I was far too young. But lots of people in my social group had all started to explore smoking. It was a thing we all did. A pleasurable social exercise. Find a group and light up and have a chat whilst letting nicotine do its work. As I got older it was fun to drink, smoke and laugh the night away.

These days, it feels like I'm the only one left standing outside in the pouring rain to 'enjoy' my habit. Everyone else has quit or sneaks a vape here and there. It used to be a social thing — a time to chat, catch up with others, and complain about the managers. Now, it feels different. More solitary. Almost like I am the last remaining relic of bygone time

The issue is I just have to smoke, there is no debate about it. I can't fight it. It's as if the filters are magnetic to my lips. They just slip out of the pack and have to be there in the centre of my lips. All ready for the flame from the lighter. It's like driving a car and changing gear, it happens without me thinking about it.

Also I have this nagging feeling that I am now literally and physically having to set aside time in my life to smoke. Plan ahead. When am I going to be busy, when will I be able to light up? When are my meetings? When are my coffee and lunch breaks etc? It's not something that can happen easily. I need time to enjoy my smoke.

Each drag I have this morning is delightful. It's tinged with sadness that tomorrow morning I won't be doing this. I can definitely say that as of the 1st of January 2025 I, Ruby, will be officially a non-smoker. That will be the best thing I have done for a long time.

My first hurdle and concern is that my first cigarette of the day and it's nearly finished, as I'm trying and failing to make it last.

I was so glad to have bought my own place. The freedom to smoke indoors. Waking up and lighting up first thing is bliss.I don't even have to get dressed.

It's now 6:07, and I have only nineteen cigarettes left. I haven't been in this position in nearly twenty years. Or maybe I have, but once awake a quick trip to the store would have solved it. For several years I always had a spare pack tucked away, just in case. Today, that's no longer an option. When I run out, that's it. Finished. It makes things simpler in a way. No more safety net.

For the past week, I promised myself that yesterday would be the last ever time I'd buy a pack. Just one more to get me through the day. It seemed easy enough. I didn't have anything planned. And yet, sitting here the fear of running out didn't stop me from lighting up a second cigarette.

The same today, I just feel the

need

for

one more to have the ability to function this morning.

0700- 17

Not that I am counting, but I've now got seventeen left. I am desperately trying not to rush through them, I am truly trying to take my time and enjoy each and every single drag. Maximise the pleasure however brief each lingering lungful is in reality.

It really can't be that bad a habit if I enjoy it?

There's sadness, nostalgia, a bit of fear, at the idea of quitting. and maybe actually a flicker of hope. Each drag I take reminds me of calm moments, but also times when I felt trapped by this habit. I want to break free, but as my hand moves towards my lips and my lungs fill with smoke part of me clings desperately to these familiar ritual

For all the bravado of doing the right thing, I am torn between the comforting sensation of smoke filling my lungs and the nagging voice that is getting louder and louder telling me I should quit.

But I need to try and say goodbye properly. I'm taking deep lungfuls of smoke, just holding it there for a beat before releasing. I have a big problem, always have had. I don't want the delightful deep drags to end. That is the crux of the issue, the harder I suck, the more smoke I consume, the better I feel, unfortunately the quicker the cigarettes finish. Sitting there drinking a coffee, the taste of the two combined as ever is just delicious.

Once I've finished this one, I am about to have my shower. It should wake me up properly. At least I'm going to finish the year clean on the outside, with an aim in the future of being cleaner on the inside too.

Sometimes I think I've changed, it's certainly a large part of my life. I have started to contemplate the possibility that the process of smoking is now a chore? For all the pleasure it gives me there is so much time I need to put aside to smoke. I've now got a small annoying cough that even I am noticing. Plus I am realising that my energy levels are not what they used to be. I'm not THAT old, but when trying to go for a walk with colleagues on the weekend, I feel it when I get home. I am absolutely shattered.

These delightful drags I take whilst sitting in the kitchen back to my teenage years, where then I would be uncomfortably perched on a buttock balanced on a wall outside with friends, laughing and sharing secrets, passing a cigarette from hand to hand. Hoping to get one more drag than anyone else. Now, I sit alone in my flat with my coffee, but at least the cigarettes, for now, still keep me company."

I have to be more careful. Tomorrow I am free to do what I want. I will not be tied firmly to my "filthy habit" making sure that I am within arms reach of an ashtray at all times.

As of today I'm already looking forward to smoking once out of the shower, and I'm not even undressed yet. I'm still savouring the thought of every cigarette. Part of me fears what comes next. What will it feel like when I can no longer rely on this habit to soothe and relax me? Everytime I get stressed I can reach for a cigarette. Like a magic wand it instantly calms me. They are just too nice. But I know I have to quit. I've now told everyone that I am this year. It's the actual New Year's Resolution I am going to keep.

I've bought a ton of chewing gum and nicotine patches ready for tomorrow. I'm even contemplating knitting. I have been googling how to do it. I have read up enough information in preparation that I know that I need to do something with my hands. Other than having a cigarette burning expectantly between my fingers, just waiting to go between my lips and be dragged on.

I continue to hold the smoke in my lungs for a heartbeat longer, savouring the way it fills the void inside. It's a comforting ritual, but I know the deeper I inhale, the faster my cigarettes disappear. This battle between satisfaction of each lungful and scarcity of cigarettes is one I know too well. Every wonderful puff feels like a long slow goodbye.

0800- 15

I might have a small problem. Looking at my pack I've now only got fifteen left and the issue I have is that I'm going to be awake until gone midnight. I really didn't think this through. I should have slept in. I would have smoked fewer that way. But after my shower I did need to smoke two back to back. As I'm going 'out out', I had to shave everything and I mean everything. It just felt right. As the afterwards cigarette, the smoke feels as smooth on my lungs and my legs do to touch. But as I am quitting it doesn't matter if I finish the pack early does it? I can end the year not smoking.

I know I have to quit for my health. I can't help it. Even I notice how I get out of breath easily. My mum noticed on Christmas eve after I ran up the stairs to fetch my Christmas card for her that I had left it in my bag, in my old bedroom. I was clearly panting a little heavily by the time I got back down. I hadn't thought anything of it. It was normal. Breathing a little wheezily after moving anywhere quickly. Normally I would sit down then light a cigarette and relax as I got my breath back. But I got that stare of concern from my mum, the raised eyebrow. The knowing look. I rather quietly shuffled outside for that much needed smoke. I needed to get my breath back after all.

0900 - 12

I know that I'm going to be in a real bind. I've had a lazy morning so far. I don't need to be over at Rebbeca's until seven tonight.

But I'm sitting having just finished eating leftover chocolate log for breakfast. My mum gave it to me the other day, saying it would be better with me. I like that about Christmas, eating the wrong things at the wrong time of day. Cake is nicer than toast even if it's a little fatter. I am sure it would be unlucky to have it still available tomorrow. Christmas calories don't really count.

Plus, I find cigarettes and chocolate have a delightful taste. Hmmm. Prefer cigarettes and wine. Later on tonight I will get that pleasure. Not long to go now.

Only fifteen hours. This will be easy.

Over Christmas dinner I solemnly promised my mum that I would quit at the end of this year. I've had it in the neck for nearly twenty years, ever since she found out that I had started. "I should know better" was the constant refrain before I could no longer hear it as I shuffled outside into the back garden. They should know how nice it is to smoke. I wasn't allowed to smoke in my parents house. So outside I went. The hours of a misspent youth outside ostracised from the family, alone but enjoying my cigarettes.

I hope I can do this!

1000- 10

Okay for the next hour I'm going to be busy in the kitchen cleaning it. I have already done the cobwebs in the bedroom. The oven really needs scrubbing. It's about time I properly cleaned it. Give it a new year's birthday, so it starts afresh. I should really have done the same with the bathroom. Thinking about it, I should have delayed my shower. Nevermind. The bottom of both sections are as black with burnt grease as my lungs are probably black with inhaled tar.

It's certainly another reason to quit. I should clean my lungs too. But it's too easy with another gentle cough after standing up after digging all the cleaning fluids out of the cupboard just to accept that it's there. I should now let the tar quietly leave and the lungs clean themselves? So they smell as sweetly as the oven will shortly.

Cleaning should also mean half an hour or so where I am busy enough that I don't smoke. Almost like practice for tomorrow. I don't need to smoke. I really don't.

1145- 8

Just had to stop and sit down for a break. I'm here, tongue out, practically panting. My elbow is leaning on the kitchen table and I am sweating buckets. After scrubbing for what seems like weeks. I've got no fitness levels at all. Anything remotely like exercise brings me out in a sweat. At least the oven smells sweeter. Even if I don't now, I am thinking that I will definitely need another shower before going out tonight. I should have thought this through better. I also cleaned the shelves in the fridge as it's nearly empty. I will also go shopping tomorrow.

I've got to say as it's my last day, that first cigarette after an hour and a half was bliss. So much so I just had to smoke a second. The waiting and anticipation made it taste just that much better. Talking of tasting.

For lunch I am going to have some of the cold bits from the fridge. I don't dare use the oven just yet, I need those cleaning fumes to dissipate. I don't want my chicken to taste like bleach.

Did I say that sitting at my kitchen table after an hour or so on my hands and knees that a freshly lit cigarette was bliss?

What is concerning me is I now have nearly twelve hours to go until it's actually tomorrow. I've only got eight cigarettes left. I will wait for my next one until after lunch. That will spread them out a bit. Almost one an hour all the way to next year. Ruby you can do this.

1300- 7

I hope I will be in bed in twelve hours. I am really not trying to wish my day or what is left of the year away. But I know it will be my last ever sleep as a smoker. Tomorrow I will wake up with an awful hangover but with knowledge that I have a beautiful fresh outlook on life. Looking forward to the fact that I will eventually get even fresher lungs. I will cough up all the gunk sitting there, and not replace it. Just six hours until I need to be at Rebecca's. I have however now sadly acknowledged one pack will not last me this afternoon, let alone get me through tonight. But I will still definitely quit tomorrow. I am just enjoying my post lunch ciggy now. My last ever after lunch one. Completing so many of my last ever's today. It's a brilliant way to say goodbye. Each one can be fondly remembered. I will have to chew gum tomorrow when I get the urge.I bought like ten packs of chewing gum in preparation. I've got seven cigarettes left. Yes I know that I'm smoking quicker than usual. I guess the fear of stopping means I'm making sure to enjoy each one properly. I will now have to buy my very, very, very last cigarette pack on the way to Rebecca's.

I'm now going to try and watch TV and distract myself.

1500- 3

I successfully got distracted, but not in the way intended. Lying there on the sofa in just my jogging bottoms drinking coffee and watching the remnants of Christmas TV. I will admit that I did not watch much of the Disney movie. I may have gotten a little preoccupied with myself away from the television screen, when I started daydreaming about Michael. My fingers may have accidentally slid inside my panties. If I was still not going to have a man permanently in my life just yet, I might as well entertain myself. It was nice, eyes closed dreaming of a better life. One without cigarettes, maybe I can do those couch to 5K runs. One thing I will need now is a clean pair of panties before I go out. I just made myself extremely wet.

I worked out that in the last couple of hours I had smoked four cigarettes and came like three times. It was sensational fun. On closer inspection at the large damp patch in the crotch and ass, I will definitely have to put the jogging bottoms in the wash too and I will absolutely need a shower again before going out.

In that case, the damage is done, I have time, I might as well go once again.

1600- 21

It was no good, I just had to reluctantly remove my hand, pull up my pants, and briefly make myself presentable by spraying some body spray on. I was even good and put on my bra and top. I couldn't quit now, even with only a couple left, with a big reluctance I just had to pop out to the corner shop. I thought long and hard about it before opening the front door. It was cold out there. However the more I thought about it, the more I determined that I just couldn't quit early. I contemplated it for at least five minutes. Finishing the year smoke free early. It was a great idea. The biggest problem with that wonderful thought was at this moment I'm both nervous and excited, as such I have already smoked way more today. Also as I am going out-out tonight, I can't not drink and smoke?

I could not have predicted that I would run out well before leaving for Rebbecas. What is one more pack JUST for today? It's now cold and wet. The forecasted front is coming in, wintry showers promised. Wet cold rain is more like it. I really would prefer not to go out again.

Sitting in the car as I have done hundreds and thousands of times, window down, cold rainy wind in my hair enjoying a cigarette or in this case two as I drove home. Bliss.

Tomorrow I can have the window up and not freeze. Bliss. Actually I won't have to leave the house because I won't have an empty pack that needs refilling. Even better.

1700- 19

I now feel better. The building anxiety has been freed. Sitting here I have a nearly full pack again. It was not good to be so early in what for me is the longest night of the year and to go without cigarettes. I will cope tomorrow. I promise. This pack is

DEFINITELY

the last for today and forEVER. All I need to do is just hope it lasts the rest of the day.

It has to!

1800- 17

I've now successfully completed twelve hours of my last day as a smoker. There are still over seven more to go. Maybe longer if I find a man. Maybe just maybe tonight?

There has been a snag. I've smoked way more than I usually do. Even now I can feel it in my lungs. But then firstly it's Christmas, and secondly I am usually at work, and so I can't smoke too much there. If I can't smoke at Christmas, when can I?

I used to be a solid pack a day smoker. Mainly enjoying them before work and plenty after with some in between. It was always the way it had been. Working from home during the pandemic was hard, it was far too easy to sit there and smoke.I was either at the computer "at work" or on the sofa "at work" and I could light up as and when I felt like it. There was no one here to tell me off. I couldn't even see anyone.