The longer I live without smoking, the more contemplative I become. Allowing thoughts to pass through my brain that were once very uncomfortable.  You know, those thoughts...the ones that make you squirm and wriggle, sucking in those stink sticks until there is a veil of smoke holding the rogue thoughts down where they belonged.  
I grew up in a house where children were supposed to be seen and not heard.  Early on, I learned to cope with life’s intricacies by shoving a cigarette in my mouth, getting my dopamine hit, and shutting down my brain. Which included any emotions and feelings.  I learned this technique well.  You know...the exact way my family of origin taught me.  
Until I began to realize that certain things did matter. And they mattered alot.  At least to me. Like health, love and life.  And truth.  And for me, it took the absence of all of those to make me yearn and desire something more.  For better health. For a kinder love. For a gentler life. For authentic truth.  For an ultimate sense of freedom.
Love yourself. Keep your quit.  The gifts only get better.