My Journey To Quit Smoking - Day One
By jakob187 19 Comments
Fuck. Part of me knew this day would come at some point, and I'll be honest: I kind of hate it. I've always been the guy to say "I'll be smoking until the day I die", and that goal seemed to be perfectly in sight for the longest time. As of this week, it seems that outlook is no longer valid.
I've been a smoker since I was twelve years old. I remember my first cigarette being rolled by my friend. There was no peer pressure, no necessity for cool, nothing of the sort. I was curious. I wanted to try a cigarette. It turned out that I liked it...a lot. Have I been addicted for the last sixteen years of my life? Well, duh. However, it's not just the chemical addiction that everyone is always so quick to bring up. It's part of me, who I am, my identity. I'm known as a smoker, and so it's very weird to think of what the world will be like now that I'm not a smoker. Moreover, it's even weirder thinking about how I can approach the world as a non-smoker.
It almost feels filthy to say that: "I'm a non-smoker". Okay, well, I'm not a total non-smoker yet. I still have to keep my willpower in check, and I'm sure that I'll end up sneaking one or two in here and there. However, for a guy that usually smokes at least a pack a day...going down to two cigarettes total in a 24 hour period...yeah, I'd say there's a marked improvement there. It's not easy to quit, and I have no problem owning up to that or admitting it. However, there is so much else that's killing me right now with it:
- I only smoke outside, so it's weird not having that "break time" now.
- The oral fixation is being replaced by chewing gum, and that's only mildly helping.
- The physical addiction of holding a cigarette, twiddling it in between my fingers, flicking the ash...there's nothing to replace it, and it's driving me a bit bonkers.
The reason for this sudden change: I got the fear of God put in me this past week. As I found myself in a place I've never been before (dehydrated, in massive pain, and realizing the damage I had done to myself at such a young age), I decided to take my mother with me to the emergency room in order to find out what was wrong. I could've told any doctor what was wrong with me: I'm fat and eat like shit, don't exercise or take care of myself in all the right ways, and I frankly don't give a shit about much. As I laid in bed watching six hours of House M.D. (the irony) waiting for tests, getting my first EKGs and ultrasounds and all kinds of crazy shit, I found myself in a moment of clarity when they injected the morphine into my system for the pain. While doped up from that crazy shit (which I hope never enters my system again), I opened my fucking eyes for once and saw the genuine sense of dread my mom had in her eyes, watching her son hooked up to all these wires and shit, not knowing what was going on.
My life for the last five years or so has been incredibly selfish. I've tried to believe that it hasn't been, but it has. I'm not a selfish person by nature, at least...I don't see myself as one, and I don't want to be seen as one. The most selfish thing any man can do over the course of his life is make decisions that could lead to the hurt of their loved ones. I don't want to be that guy anymore.
That's where the "quitting smoking" part comes in. If there's any one crux I need to kick in order to prove to myself that I'm making headway in the right direction, it's cigarettes. It's not going to be easy, and I don't even know if I'll be able to outright quit as easily as I'd like to. I may go from being a regular, chronic smoker to being a once-or-twice-a-day smoker. It may take a week and it may take a year. I don't know, as I know that my willpower is not completely in the right place but willing to move in that direction for the first time ever...at least, in any serious fashion.
Why write this? I needed to get it out. I needed to write a pseudo-farewell letter to this habit, this....thing....that's been a part of my life for so long. Some people, most people...they'd probably call it some kind of a curse. I have enjoyed every minute of being a smoker, and if I'm going to die of cancer one day because of it, it won't be a cancer regretted.

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