Goodbye My Lovers. Goodbye Best Friends.

For the past four years, through the help of a brilliant therapist and a philosophical Rabbi/Psychiatrist, I have been working on my emotional and spiritual self. I do think I have come close to finding a level of inner peace that helps me handle the toxic ugliness that pervades my everyday life and I am happy, but I still have emotional baggage. I’m dumping that shit. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I followed what the doctors told me, did my time attached to an IV for six months and took all of my prescriptions, but behind the scenes, I was a bad girl. I smoked, I sunned and I sinned. I decided to take control of these habits and crush them one by one. This is step one.


Goodbye My Lovers

I met cigarettes when I was fifteen years old and by seventeen, I was officially a smoker. Thirteen years later I quit. For five years.During the six years that i did not smoke, I had funny cigarettes to help me fulfill my oral fixation, but that came to an end rather organically and I had a good three years of nothing but fresh New York City air filling my lungs. I returned to my former lovers and best friends slowly and surely, they became a part of my life again. I loved them.

I loved them.

My smokey treats (term coined by Jimmy Love) helped me through the scandal, the divorce, ironically, the cancer and the stresses of being a single Mommy. How i loved waking up twenty minutes earlier than my girl to sit on my fire escape with a cup of coffee and a couple of butts. How I much fun I had drinking and smoking and laughing with my friends. I loved lounging on the beach with an icy coke and a cigarette. I loved sitting at my kitchen table when I had the place to myself with a bottle wine and a couple of packs of cigarettes. I’m sitting at that very kitchen table right now with a bottle of wine and a Nicoderm patch on my back. I have a couple of Vapes, but they need to be charged and… I’ll be right back…

Ok. Vapes are charging. (…relief…)

Over the past year, I have tried to quit a few times. Sadly, I even smoked with the patch on. I was so in love, I did stupid shit. It was this past weekend when I was down to four cigs and my last glass of wine that i said to myself “it’s time.” I know the damage it was doing to my body, I mean, Goddamn, they shove those horrible “Quit Smoking” ads down your throat (no pun intended) where ever you look in New York.


A smaller factor was the smell. That shit lingers. It makes my beautifully washed hair stink. It makes my couch stink. My clothes stink. When my girl would come home after a weekend with her Dad, I could still smell my weekend of puffing. And I felt bad.

Finally, there was the cost. In New York, a pack of smokes ranges anywhere from twelve to fourteen bucks. A pack a day for a month adds up to roughly four hundred dollars.



That’s close to five grand a year!!  That’s like good tattoos or a large contribution to my IRA!

So, I thought to myself, “A box of patches is fifty bucks and it could potentially save my life AND five thousand dollars a year…sign me up!!”

It’s only day four and I’ve been an incredible bitch, almost caved twice but I’m still committed to this goal. If I can leave this toxic lover behind, I can do anything and there are things I NEED to do. More toxic waste to get out of my body. Get out of my mind.

I loved you, my little smokers, but you hurt me so bad.