Two weeks and two days ago I crushed out my last cigarette in a final attempt to quit smoking for good. That Sunday evening, 16 March 2025 at 21:30, I vowed: It's now or never.
And miraculously, I am still clean.
Today, as I turn 59 years old, I'm braving my 16th day as a non-smoker.
I drew my first breath of air on 1 April 1966 in the late afternoon - despite the nurses in the hospital begging my mom to take it slowly (really??) in order to save her poor daughter from being born an April Fool.
This was to no avail and about 17 years later I lived up to my birthday badge when I took my first smoke-filled breath infused with nicotine.... the most foolish thing I've ever done, and I've done more than my fair share of foolish things.
I took up smoking knowing full well how addictive the nasty, stinky habit is.
My dad was a smoker and I hated it with a passion, but at some stage in my late teens I thought it would be cool and that I would be the exception to the rule and never become an addict.
There are NO exceptions to the rule when it comes to smoking.
Dad eventually managed to kick the habit when he was in his late 50s, and just before his death about 20 years later, he admitted that he still craved a cigarette from time to time.
You don't take on the nicotine mistress if you just want a casual fling.
So following in my dad's footsteps, I decided to bid my deadly buddies a sad farewell before hitting my 60s.
But it's much easier said than done.
The past two weeks have been incredibly hard and withdrawal has tested me. I’ve had a number of blowups (more like volcanic eruptions) with Cor, the man in my life, and at times I feel extremely down.
I have never suffered from depression but for the first time I fully understand when people say that nothing gives them joy.
I read somewhere this is because if you are a smoker, all joy, and heartache, are always accompanied by, or followed by, nicotine.
I've never been a morning smoker, except maybe when on holiday, but I passionately miss a cigarette when I get home from work - it was synonymous with winding down and having a relaxing, good time after a tough day.
On top of that, sleep’s been restless and I get the occasional headache, but I'm standing strong.
This morning, on my first smoke-free birthday since I was 16, I started a strict exercise regime under the watchful eye of trainer Michael-John, the owner of Beyond Fitness.
I am embarking on a gruelling 5-day-a-week exercise routine from 06:00 to 07:00 in the hope of saving my blackened lungs and my sagging behind.
It’s a gift to myself as I enter my 60th year on planet earth, a milestone reached in spite of my 43 years of self-abuse.
It's tough to stop, even brutal, but just this morning's lunges, fast walking, bike ride and resistance training alone have already put me in a more positive frame of mind.
If only I could have a cigarette to take the edge off quitting!
