Tomorrow, it'll be five years since I quit smoking.
It's starting to get easier.
I don't mean not-smoking (though I do somewhat—while it hasn't been a big deal in a while, it's still a habit in me that takes attention to not re-up)—what I mean is everything. Everything is getting easier. Even when it's hard, it's getting easier: it's a different kind of hard. The idea that I can't (can't take it, fix it, or allow it to happen) that huge sighing raw I can't! doesn't last or feel as real or complete. It's not much bigger than I am at this point.
Instead: everything changes.
Quitting smoking was a piece of it. Shrinking, easing, smoothing the hard stuff.
I guess because it gave me a LOT of practice facing it.