Learning to Live Without A Crutch

Ive recently quit smoking, its been a terrible struggle. Ive quit a dozen times before, even though this time seems much easier than times before, its still a battle. Ive been taking the drug Chantix, and I have noticed it helped with the initial withdrawal symptoms, it certainly didn't make it a cake walk. In fact even as Im writting this, I just stopped, clicked the facebook tap to see if my neighbor who smokes is online, so I could ask her if I could buy a smoke off of her. Of course, the battle in my head starts up. "It will take the frustration away, just a few drags and Ill feel more motivated to write, my ideas will clear up and I can see them....But you hate this, you hate everything about it , the smell, the taste, the slavery, mostly the slavery.."  This is three weeks out, three weeks of not smoking, and the justification train still tries to roll up. "Whats the difference if I just indulged myself in one cigarette anyways? Just one. What the hell have I been doing these last 9 years?  I think it will solve all my current problems, my irritability, my focus, my constant feeling like Im waiting for something. Im pretty irritable by nature as it is, so you can imagine my process of trying to quit smoking, my jaw locks up, Ive got a constant reel of negativity streaming when the cravings flood in, like how everyone is stupid, and slow and everything sucks, my fingers feel like I need to keep popping them and then there is this slight twinge I feel in my temple, or this pressure in my head, I can literally feel these sensations in my brain.

Ive always held onto smoking as some sort of crutch. Soon after my mother committed suicide, I picked up smoking, partially because my friend started smoking and it seemed fun, and partially because it reminded my of my mother and it was something to do. The first few smokes I had, I had to literally force myself to smoke painfully. Each drag made me gag and made me feel horribly dizzy, but I just wanted to, goddamn it, I wanted to. When I first started, I thought it was silly that people actually couldnt quit smoking, or had a hell of a time trying to stop. I didn't get it. I thought they were just weak. I didn't know it would end up controlling my life .As petty as an addiction as it may seem, as in, its not heroin or meth, or something along those lines, it does however change the way you do everything. You are its slave. Upon completion of any task I felt the need to smoke a cigarette, as in, in order to feel truly accomplished with a task like doing my home work or cleaning the kitchen, I needed to smoke, in order to move onto the next course of action. Its almost like, what I had just completed or done, wasn't good enough if I didn't smoke. It was a way of telling myself, "Good job, you're done." Even with meals, at the end of each meal, a nice savory satisfying cigarette was a way to end an incredible meal, a way to tell myself I was done and there is nothing quite like it. That's only f your addicted I'm sure, otherwise it would taste like shit. Who wants to destroy as delicious meal, with a mouth full of stale shit? Thats been one of the toughest things about quitting smoking for me. How do I transition? What I do with myself? Ive been drinking a hell of a lot of diet pepsi, thats for sure. I know its horrible for me, but it seems to help with the oral fixation of the addiction.

The boredom smoking. It blows my mind how much  I used to smoke out of mere boredom. I was in a waiting room the other day for over two hours, and I was bored out of my mind after my phone died and all I could do was literally twiddle my fingers, no magazines or books in sight, just me, alone in my head with my own thoughts, how terrifying. As I sat there, I realized that normally I would be going out for a smoke, or sitting there figiting like crazy because I needed a smoke, but I wasn't, I was sitting there, just waiting, thinking. That's something I don't do very often. Im always doing something. Rarely do I appreciate the nothing.  I'm a very impatient person, and I often find it difficult to fully enjoy the now, and for me, becoming addicted make that worse, much, much worse. Always running from the aloneness of my own thoughts, or stillness, needing some feel good remedy from boredom, stress, transition, or whatever the now happens to bring. Its also something to always look forward to. Of course we never look back and think, "damn I remember that one time, I had that great cigarette after I watched that movie." No, it all becomes one big blur, no cigarette really standing out from the other, until you kind of forget you are a smoker, and its just something you need, and only enjoy it because not having it is painful. I call that slavery, the worse kind too, the kind you signed yourself up for.

I hold the opinion that no one becomes an addict to anything by accident. It's usually a willful choice, made over and over and over and over. You dont try a smoke, or a line of coke and wake up the next morning an addict. It feels good to you, and you wanna feel good again, so you keep doing. Each time you do, you make a choice. You may not understand the full depths of the addiction you are walking into, or the path you are paving, or the habit you are forming, but you are taking the steps to get there. As good as it seemed to feel getting there, it s equally if not more painful to step out. The ying and the yang. What goes up must come down, the general law of everything it seems. Nothing really comes without some kind of price.

Not long ago, I faced a major crisis and watched someones life slip away, painfully, and watched their loved ones fight venomously against it, I didn't think I could handle it. Normally the smallest of stresses drives me to the my smoking sanctuary, but this time, no. Even in a house filled with cigarette smoke, by morning family members, I endured and stood strong. In fact that was the first time in 9 years I have faced a crisis with out my dear crutch, the stick of death. I will not be a slave anymore. The man who had just passed was a smoker, I watched him die from lung cancer, smoking to the very end. The strange thing about this was, I had began working with him, just two days after I decided to quit smoking, unknowingly that I would be working with a man who would die right before my eyes of lung cancer from smoking.

As I sit here sipping on my diet Pepsi, proud of each moment I don't smoke, knowing that soon enough, if not just moments from now, Ill need to pee again, because I have drank so much damn soda, I press on. I want my freedom back. Even if cigarettes didn't kill you in a variety of different ways, cost you ass loads of money, taking away from the possible vacations I could be going on, or the fun things I could be buying for myself, even if it didn't steal my health, my voice, my ability to run like I used to. Even f it didn't make me stink, my cloths, my hair, my breath and make my teeth and finger nails yellow, I no longer want to be a slave. I gave up my freedom, now Im taking it back. Its gonna be a fight, its gonna be a battle, and if it needs to be, it will be an all out war, but I'm going to be the one walking away.