Welcome to a New Year. I don’t make resolutions because I think it’s setting myself up for failure. I like to make goals all year long and then gently push myself towards them like I’m nudging a strange Rottweiler away after it sat down on my coat at a party. “Come on buddy, ‘atta boy…just a liiiiiittle more. Okay, I can always get a new coat.” I don’t make goals to lose 5lbs or swear less. My goals usually involve doing things that I’m afraid of. And not things like touching snails or swimming with sharks (I’m afraid of both of those) but things that I’m afraid of on an emotional level, things that expose you to the possibility of ridicule and a slow painful inner death.

I saw on facebook the other day that my friend made a resolution to quit smoking. Frankly, I didn’t even know she smoked. That’s always the way with addictions though, people don’t come out and brag about them. I used to be a smoker and everyone is always shocked to find that out. They say, “You don’t look like the type.” I have no idea what ‘the type’ is. French?

     I quit smoking just over four years ago. I can’t believe it’s been that long. It wasn’t a New Year’s resolution and I didn’t pick a quit date. I don’t even know what day it was I just know it was in the fall. Since everyone always asks me how I did it, and one of my ‘goals’ right now is to write, I thought I would share my story.