It reminds me of the 90s where I no longer liked being a smoker, and the rebel identity and Hollywood glamour had worn off long ago.
Yet I could not stop.
Not even for a day.

Ultimately I managed to quit on the back of a “smoking hangover”.
The day after a party and it was almost noon before I got out of bed anyway. So the first hours without cigarettes were “on the house”.

The alcohol-free night had left me with a hangover because I had been smoking all night, at a loud venue with dozens of other smokers.
When I should have been in bed sleeping.

That day I quit and never went back.

I had been trying for years, with several attempts dating as far back as high school.
For a couple of days, or a couple of weeks, but I had always fallen off the wagon.
Over the years quitting seemed to have gotten harder.
Not easier.

Yet this final “attempt” immediately felt different. A spur-of-the-moment decision, and I remember buying the widest variety of bubblegum flavors I ever owned, including Donald Duck bubble gum that came with a cartoon in the wrapper.

And pricey nicotine gum.
But I had not read the instructions (which I believe will tell you to chew it slowly) and it made me cough.
I never bought a second pack.

But regardless of the messy start, as well as my poor record of always starting again, I immediately, and with certainty, knew this attempt was successful.
And I was right.

And I am waiting for the moment the same click happens with my internet addiction. And to only be online in a deliberate way. Which can also be for entertainment, I’m not depriving myself.

But it has not come.

I have definitely gotten better, but the finality is not there. I’m making the most of what I am humanly able to do, from my end.
But I’m gonna need some magic from the Universe, to make this final.

I have three timelines to attend to;
1990, where I am rebooting my body.
2000, where I am rebooting my love life.
And 2025 where I am rebooting success.

None of them like waking up to the taste of internet in the morning.

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