For those of us who have been on the can for 15+ years, I suppose it does come down to quitting or dying. I don't feel like dying, so quitting is my only option.
A long time ago, I told myself that it would suck to be in my 30s, still dipping, dying of cancer. Well, now I'm in my 30s. I don't have cancer, and I am not dying. That's good. I owe it to whoever or whatever to stop pushing my fucking luck. I need to get ahead of this before it kills me.
And you know what I try to keep in mind? As depressing as it is to think of a world without tobacco (and by God...the sense of loss I get when trying to quit is vicious), it's much more depressing to think about saying goodbye to my one-year-old.
Anyway, I run the risk of blabbing because this is the first time I have tried to quit in more than three years, and this is day three for me. (I spent day one on the patch, but I went pure nicotine-free yesterday.) Needless to say, I barely know where I am right now. I am plowed with withdrawal. I could very easily verbally assault and bring to tears anyone who comes near me, and afterward demolish this office building with my bare hands and teeth. I think I WOULD like to do that, actually.