Mindful Iterations
I’m on day 5 of being an ex-smoker. Er, maybe it’s a non-smoker. Whatever. I’m not smoking anymore.
Let me tell you – the first three days were three intensely painful days. Mentally, physically, and emotionally, I’ve been raw.
I was angrier than I think any human should be.
I have felt completely inept when it comes to figuring out what to do with the moments when I’d typically smoke.
I’ve felt extremely sad and empty.
It’s a roller coaster. Anyone who says otherwise is either full of crap, or is an asshole.
I’ve smoked for the majority of the last 18 years. That’s like, half my life. I’ve had weeks and days where I’ve quit in those 18 years, but those weeks and days have been few and far between.
And, now I have to be patient. I feel as though while I’ve been smoking, I’ve had blinders on to other areas that need improving. I’ve known about them, but I’ve not done much about them. Now that I’ve taken action in one area (and it’s a huge deal, quitting smoking), I want to take massive action in EVERY area.
I’m overweight. I am lucky in that my frame allows me to carry some extra weight without looking like a seal, however, I know what the scale says. I also know how I feel when I walk, run, or climb a hill. Partly affected by smoking, partly affected by carrying over 30 pounds of extra weight, those feelings suck. They fucking suck. (Watch out world, she’s cussing openly – she must mean business.)
So, I’m faced with a bit of a dilemma. I can either focus on my new non-smoking ways for a few more weeks, or I can do what I’m doing now – obsessing about all the changes I need to make in my life. Change of diet, change of exercise habits, change of sleeping patterns, change, change, change, change OMG, CHANGE.
I believe in iterations. At least my blog says I do. You know that whole “mindful iterations” thing? I like to think of an iteration as an incremental change; a gradual next step in getting closer to a target.
The truth is, I’m terrified.
I’m terrified of slipping back into complacency. I’m terrified of staying sedentary. I’m terrified of the pain I feel in my legs and my feet, which are most likely because of the extra weight I’m carrying around. I’m terrified of my family history of heart disease and Type II Diabetes. I’m terrified of time and its consequences. I’m terrified of every word I’m typing, and I’m terrified of hitting Publish.
If you somehow stumbled across this post because you’re quitting smoking or because you’re thinking of quitting smoking, or if you’re a bit freaked out or scared because you’ve woken up and found that you need to make some concrete changes in your life in order to live the life you want to live… you’re not alone.
It is scary and painful to realize that things “got out of hand”. If you’re anything like me, you want immediate and overnight success. You want to snap your fingers and watch excess pounds disappear immediately. You want your lung capacity to return to what it used to be. You’re afraid of moving too fast and setting yourself up for failure, but you’re also afraid of not moving fast enough.
Again, you’re not alone. I don’t have the answers. I don’t have any secret way out. But I am doing my damnedest to avoid the fate that most people in my maternal grandmother’s family have had.
You can do it. You’re not alone.
Back in high school, I spent much of the time which should have been focusing on things like Biology, Geometry, and other things ending in -y, drawing. I didn’t draw sailboats, puppies, flowers, or people. I drew letters. On plain white typing paper (not printer paper), I would “tag” my friends’ names, and give them out as gifts. I loved doing it. I’d spend hours lost in the contour of each letter, always trying to change up the way an A looked, or figure out how I could intertwine the cross of the T with the bridge of the H.
Years later, once computers were more common (and web pages were full of text on graphics – bad SEO, bad SEO!), I’d spend hours browsing through and downloading from free font repositories. At one time I reached the limit of how many fonts Windows 95 would allow me to have. I’d download fonts and play with my image editing software. I knew all the tricks – drop shadow, bevel, you name it. I loved the way letters, placed together, made words, which made sentences, which made pictures.
All these years later, I still have a love affair with letters and a soft spot for words. There’s nothing quite like them. They’re beautiful. Alliterations are like symphonies to my mind.
Sometimes I wish I’d paid more attention in high school instead of perfecting different styles of drawing the letter S. But, mostly, I wish I could go back to those days and relive those hours lost with pencil in hand. I don’t think I’d change a thing (even if it did mean getting another C in Geometry).
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