Kara's Blog Challenge: "Writing about Addictions"

In my last post (on my other blog) I talked about my addiction to smoking, and my endeavor to quit, but I’m going to expand on “quitting bad habit” here.
Smoking is one of those things for me that has become over the years just part of my life, like it’s part of who I am, because I let it consume me. I started as a teenager and gradually get to be a heavier smoker as years went by. A few times I made attempts to quit, but never seriously. While pregnant with each of my children, I semi-quit. Would go for few weeks, even a few months, without smoking. But never gave them up for good. Now I realize I DO NOT want cigerettes to define ME. That’s not who I want to be. Many changes are going to have to be made. Changing routines. Getting physically fit again. Before marrying Steve I stayed so much more fit, a big part of it from loving to dance and going almost weekly. But, when you’re married to a great guy, you stop going to the bars and dance spots. I look back and can see how I’ve physically declined, not just from lack of dancing, but I haven’t done any physical activity to replace it. So I am going to have to start an exercise routine of some type to counter smoking and get back into shape. I’m going to start Yoga today, and thinking it would be a good idea to start walking a few times a week at least. Starting out a little light I know, but don’t want to get burnt out in the beginning.
As for giving up other things…I totally relate and understand about Kara and her parents. I never got to know my father (if you can call him that) until I was 18. I made the effort to drive an hour and a half to see him almost every weekend for a couple of years. I always called him, not the other way around. And soon realised that he always had something to blame me for, whether it was a mistake I was making (or not) or something one of my half brothers had done. For heaven’s sake…it couldn’t be that they had done anything…it had to be my fault. I stopped contacting him for a few years, occassionally calling maybe once a year or so just to see how everyone was. Then finally, after about 2 years with no word from him I called and got the news. It was November when I called, and my father told me that one of my brothers had been killed in an auto accident in MARCH of that year. I was so upset that no one even bother to tell me. I decided then that I wanted nothing more to do with him, and I haven’t heard from him since. It’s been about 12 or 13 years now. Occassionally I’ve thought about them, but have refrained from making that contact, because I know it would only lead to more heartache. My hope is that no one thinks they need to inform me when he goes, because sadly I don’t even want to know about it. As far as I’m concerned he is nothing to me, never truely has been and never again will be.