OK, so I had a typical day. The only difference, really, was that I happened to be chatting on Fb to someone during a typical portion of my typical day so I told her about it as part of our conversation. She was so entertained by what I told her that I was reminded, as I haven’t been for a little while, of just how … um … “different” I am.

I quit smoking a little while ago. So I’ve gone from having a half hour lunch break and two 15 minute smoke breaks to having an hour lunch break in the middle of my working day. Sometimes I have no problem filling that with shopping or reading or whatever as well as eating my lunch. At other times, I seem to have excess minutes to take advantage of. Today was one of the latter. I’d finished shopping and still had a half hour left. I didn’t want to eat my packed lunch in the grounds at work so I looked for a likely spot to sit in my car, eat my sandwich, and play a bit on Facebook.

I’d noticed a building that looked vacant. There had been a business sign out front but it had been removed. Near the empty sign holder there is a “for lease” sign. So I pulled into the parking lot, wound down my windows, pulled out my phone and my sandwich, and got comfy.

I was Fb chatting away with a friend and former co-worker in London when I realized the wi-fi symbol on my phone was lit. I must have forgotten to switch off wi-fi when I left home this morning. No big deal. Except that the symbol was orange, which it has never been before. So I was curious. I’m often curious. And I can’t seem to ignore whatever has made me curious. I backed out of Fb and entered settings. I was apparently connected to an unfamiliar wi-fi (which I’m guessing explained the odd color of the symbol). Of course I can’t now remember the name of the wi-fi I was connected to. But I was grateful and felt guilty at the same time. I hadn’t intentionally been stealing someone’s signal. I quieted my guilt by telling myself that they should have secured their service before closing up their business.

Then a truck pulled into the parking lot. It backed into a cargo bay and the driver got out, opened the door of the building and began unloading boxes. I looked around. Just two vehicles in the huge car park of what I’d taken for a deserted building. And of course the overactive imagination kicked in.

I studiously avoided looking at the truck any more while speculating wildly about what was going on to the friend with whom I was chatting. As I saw it, one of two things was soon to happen. Either security was going to exit the building, approach my vehicle, and ask me what the hell I was doing, neither a customer nor an employee, making myself comfortable in their parking lot and free with their wi-fi service. Or the truck driver was going to approach my vehicle with a gun and ask me how much I’d seen.

Yes, I know. Totally unlikely, both. And yet I was still half-expecting someone to come over. If the business was still an active one, where had the employees parked? There was something very weird going on here, I was convinced. So, while avoiding being caught actually watching the unloading of the truck, I kept my peripheral vision at alert. There was a lot of empty space between me and the building and, if anyone began strolling in the parking lot, my key would be turned in my ignition and I would be out of there in about 2 seconds flat.

Of course, the friend with whom I was chatting was trying to remain upright in her chair in London while laughing herself silly at my state of alert in Pennsylvania.

While studiously avoiding noticing anything further about the unloading of the truck, I managed to notice a nearby McDonald’s. Even with the windows open, it had gotten quite warm from the Autumn sun in my vehicle. A chocolate milkshake suddenly seemed a necessity before returning to work. So the mystery of the building and all things associated with it disappeared from the forefront of my mind as I drove to the drive-thru for a milkshake. Hence, for several minutes, my friend was left hanging … and apparently wondering if, in fact, I had been accosted in one way or another. When I picked up my end of the conversation again, milkshake half-consumed and back at my desk, she typed to me in rather stern capitals about worrying her like that.

I can only guess that you have to be a writer to understand the way my mind works.

I ... Kind Of ... Quit Smoking

A little while ago someone who inspires me quit smoking.

I so admired that but thought I didn't have the willpower to accomplish it on my own. So I planned it. I talked to the Health and Wellness Coach at work. I was supplied with patches for eight weeks and was given a support person at the end of a phone line. However, I was dithering over the "quit date". So I decided to take a breath and think about why.

This wasn't quitting as I wanted to quit for several reasons.

1. I'm one of those annoying people who actually enjoy smoking. Now, don't misunderstand. I don't like what it does to my lungs. I don't like the expense. I don't like the smelly ashtrays or the offensive odor that smoking leaves in my hair and on my clothes. But what I most dislike about smoking is that I allowed myself to become addicted to it. I always enjoyed smoking the odd cigarette ... when I wanted to. I most certainly did not enjoy feeling the need for one every two hours or so. Or experiencing that my-eyes-are-sinking-into-the-back-of-my-skull feeling if I hadn't had one in, say, the past three to four hours. So I had to face that I don't really want to quit. Not entirely. What I want is to be able to smoke just one cigarette, at the end of the day, when I want to. And, yes, I am aware that having that one cigarette at the end of each day is going to make NOT having other cigarettes throughout each day far more difficult. But, hey, while I'm not expensive or high-maintenance, I never said I was easy. ;-)

2. I felt the way I was planning to quit wasn't the right way for me. I didn't want to spend eight weeks slowly lowering my dependence on nicotine that was being supplied to me by a patch on my arm. Weird as it may sound, I wanted it to be painful and horrific but short and sharp. I wanted my "quit date" to stick in my mind to deter me from ever again lighting up MORE than one cigarette at the end of a day. I wanted to be AFRAID of having to go through that again. BUT ... there was that lack of willpower thing. Was I going to be able to do it the way I wanted to do it or was I going to fail miserably?

3. That last sentence really challenged me. Once upon a time, I believed myself terribly impatient. However, over the past three years, I've proven to myself just how incredibly patient I can be. Given the right incentive. Maybe it's the same with willpower, I thought. After all, what's the difference between being stubborn and possessing willpower? I know I can be stubborn as hell so why am I so convinced I have insufficient willpower?

So I decided to quit my way instead of the planned way. It was going to be ridiculously challenging my way. But, if I didn't succeed ... well, there were the patches stacked neatly in their four little boxes and there's still that support person waiting to hear from me ...

I deliberately chose the quit day I did for very personal reasons that I'm not going to go into. But I also chose it for the day that follows it; an important day to me; one that makes me happy every year.

So ... I put out my last "I really need this" cigarette at 11:00 on Friday night.

I had my first "I'm smoking this because I want to" cigarette at about 11:30 on Saturday night.

It's now 10:35 on Sunday morning. I've been up for over three hours. And I know that I won't smoke my next cigarette until after 11:00 tonight. Because I'm just that stubborn. ;-) And because the reason I quit matters that much to me.

Count your blessings twice ...

They sat together at the campfire in the middle of the forest, the goddess and her daughter. One cried out her pain while the other sat listening in silent compassion.

When her daughter’s tears finally dried, the goddess said, “Let me show you something.”

The daughter knew instinctively to look into the flames. There were images of rape, starvation, war, flooding, murder, and terminal disease.

After a few moments of digesting the images, the daughter faced her mother, humbled and embarrassed for the tears she had shed. In comparison to what she’d just seen, her tears were the indulgence of a weak and superficial brat who’d been denied a coveted bauble.

“I understand. You’re pointing out that, while personally painful, what happened to me pales into insignificance. I feel as if my life has fallen apart but that’s vain, peripheral and totally unimportant in the grand scheme of things,” said the daughter.

“No,” said the goddess. “Your allegorical heart is broken and the pain you feel is very real. The grief you are experiencing will be felt for some time and, as you heal, you will be changed. “

She smiled at her daughter and continued, “Your life has not ‘fallen apart’; your future is merely being rewritten. You thought you would travel in this direction but have learned that you are headed in that. This has happened before and it will happen again.

“The paths of all the people you just saw have been altered by events both similar to and very different from your own. I would just like you to keep in mind that you live. Your body is intact. You have food on your table and a roof over your head. There are people you love who love you in return.

“Experience your pain. Feel your grief. But, as you heal, spare a moment each day to reflect on your blessings and find a way of showing gratitude for them. In this way, as you heal, you will ensure that one of the changes in you will not be the acquisition of bitterness.

“You must grow stronger without toughening. You must grow wiser without becoming jaded. You must allow your heart to heal while expanding its capacity to love.

“Count your blessings twice; your sorrows only once and as you release them.”