Don't worry, it's just me. I'm trying to quit smoking again. I've been smoking since I was 15
years old, and I've been trying to quit almost as long. You non-smokers might believe that we
smokers don't care about our health. Well, you're wrong. One of the most intense emotions
going through a smoker's mind is guilt over what we're doing to our bodies. However, equally
strong is an unparalleled ability to rationalize. You've probably heard a smoker say "Oh, I can
quit anytime I want" or "I'm not addicted, I just like to go through the motions of smoking".
Don't believe a word of it. They're all hooked.
I actually did quit once just before I graduated from high school. I had been sick for several
weeks and cigarettes just didn't interest me. Having made it through two weeks without
cigarettes, I was over the hurdle. I no longer craved nicotine so badly. I was real proud of
myself. I kept a running tally of the number of days, then weeks, and finally months it had been
since I'd had a smoke. Several times during that period I dreamed about lighting up. I would
wake up depressed at having failed myself, at having to go through the withdrawal process all
over again. Then I would become fully awake and realize it was a dream and life would become
beautiful again.
I went three years without smoking a cigarette. Oh well, all good things must end. For some
reason, I started smoking again. I don't remember why, I just did. I kept telling myself it would
be easy to quit again. Just get sick like you did in high school. The problem was, I just couldn't
seem to get sick enough to quite kick the habit. Believe me, I tried. Whenever the flu bug would
come around, others would despair but I would rejoice. I have unfortunately been blessed with
rather good health. See what I mean about smokers and rationalization?
Over the years I have tried everything. I went to a smoker's support clinic at the Potomac Lung
Association. We would meet once a week to share our miseries. One by one, the people in the
group would throw their packs of cigarettes in the trash can. I did too. I would then fish them
back out again when no one was looking. We had to make these little lists explaining the reasons
why we should quit smoking. Then, whenever we had the urge to smoke, we would have to read
through the list first before we gave in to the urge. After one week of this, my list was so
crumpled and wrinkled from constant consultation that it was unreadable. This was not working.
I stopped going to the Potomac Lung Association smoker's clinic.
I next tried the filter method. Perhaps you've heard of it or seen it in action. I bought this
cigarette holder from the drug store. Each week I would buy a slightly stronger filter for the
cigarette holder. The theory was that you could gradually cut down on the amount of nicotine
entering your body. There was a whole series of the filters, a week 1 model, a week 2 model, on
up to the one month filter. The maker of the filters guaranteed that you would quit smoking in 30
days or your money back. I started out grandly and with high expectations. The first week went
great. I thought this would be easy. During the second week, I started noticing the lack of
nicotine, but I was still game. In the third week, I was definitely strung out and I started kicking
my cat for no apparent reason. I think it was in the fourth week that I permanently broke up with
my girlfriend of two years. She laid it on the line: "Either the filter goes or I go". Life was rough.
In a fit of despair I threw my filter into the path of a trailer truck on Interstate 95. I never saw my
filter or my girlfriend again. And I never got my money back from the filter manufacturer either.
I was too embarrassed to admit my defeat to them.
I then went into my mesmerist period. I started consulting a hypnotist. He was no charlatan, he
was a bona-fide psychologist with degrees on the wall, a couch, and everything. I was not a good
subject for hypnosis. While he was telling me to relax, I was too busy worrying about where I
would get the 80 dollars for this week's session. I would leave his office and immediately light up,
thinking "Thank God, another week before I have to go through this again". Needless to say, my
mesmerist period did not last long.
Then Nicorette gum came to the rescue. Nicorette is chewing gum laced with nicotine. It is
available only under a doctor's prescription. It tastes something like sawdust mixed with
computer printer ribbons. I kicked my cigarette habit and became a Nicorette addict. I was, at
my peak, chewing some 80 pieces of Nicorette a week. The wrappers were strewn all about the
house. The ashtrays were filled, not with cigarette butts, but with used up pieces of Nicorette.
Our cats would occasionally find a piece and have fun batting them about the house. The
Nicorette worked great, but there was just one problem. I was still addicted to nicotine. As soon
as I would try to cut down on the gum, I would start smoking again. After a while, I was
smoking and chewing the Nicorette, sometimes at the same time. I was a pitiful sight.
I then made a fateful decision. I would give up the habit--the Nicorette gum, that is. I applied all
my willpower to it. It was tough, but I made it. In order to help myself fight this insidious habit,
I started smoking more and more. Now I was right back where I had started, smoking two packs
a day. But at least I no longer had ashtrays gummed up with three month old wads of gum, stuck
fast to the sides and hard as diamond. I consider this one of the great ironies of my life - that I
would use cigarettes to help me give up Nicorette.
Still feeling guilty about my smoking, I decided I would try to cut down. I stopped buying packs
and became a cigarette bum. Every smoker at work learned to dread my approach, knowing I
would utter those hated words - "Hey, can I bum a smoke from you?" I had several regular
suppliers. I would salve my conscience by occasionally buying them packs. I knew everybody's
brand. I frequented out of the way tobacco shops just so I could buy a pack of "Manly
Ultra-Cool Menthols" to pay back my suppliers. I felt like a homeless drug addict.
I've slowly learned to live with my smoker's guilt. I buy my own packs now. I've given up chewing gum altogether. I have balled up my guilt and shut it up in some dark corner of my mind. But it's still there, alive and growing. I can feel it gathering strength. Someday, probably very soon now, it's going to burst through the walls I've built up and shout out to me "STOP KILLING YOURSELF!" At that point, I'll be at it again, with my Nicoderm skin patches, my cigarrest smoking filters, and my tattered and wrinkled list of reasons why I should quit smoking. So please, have pity on that tattered man with the shaking hands and the haunted eyes. It could be me.