I’ll throw in my two-cents worth and tell how I quit on April 23, 2006. It wasn’t any superhuman strength on my part. I didn’t even need any willpower. I’d just had an impacted wisdom tooth pulled and lit up a cigarette. Suddenly, I found myself feeling nauseous, sweating profusely, and literally crawling across the floor to throw up. I thought I’d have to get better to die.
Now, everytime I get the urge, I do three things. (1) I remember how sick it made me. (2) I think of my sister, Morgana, and her husband, Tom, who both quit and how much I admired them for it. (3) I tell myself, “Sure, I’d love to smoke. But millions of people get along perfectly well without it, and so can I.”
Yep, smoking was a lot of fun for a long time, but I hope I never start up again. I can’t imagine I ever will.