Current mood:	accomplished
Current music:	Ramalama (Bang Bang)

Twenty-One Days
I don’t like to Polly Anna things – this not smoking thing is tough. Last night was our last group session and I received a Certificate of Achievement “In recognition of outstanding perseverance and patience in working toward a smoke-free life.”

I am waiting still for the day when I just ‘don’t think about it’ like some of the folks in group *claimed* they were experiencing. Yes, I put claimed in those funky little pay attention to me things because I’m not sure I entirely believe them. To be honest, there are times I want one, I want one real bad, but I don’t and it passes. It’s been twenty-one days since I smoked, which believe me is an achievement but I still feel as though I’m taking it one day at a time, and sometimes it’s a matter of verbalizing that A: I’m having a craving and B: I’m not going to do that right now. Then I go do something else.

Is my writing still suffering? A bit, when I have focus, it’s limited, but then again, it was always limited by the need to stop and go out for a cigarette so it’s hard for me to put any real perspective on that, other than to acknowledge that I haven’t been as dedicated to the RPG as I had been in the past. AND then again, maybe that’s a good thing too.

I have been working on a testimonial piece:

I should pre-warn you that this needs another revision:

I smoked my first cigarette behind the garage of a neighborhood friend’s house at age twelve. I don’t even remember the name of the person who’s father we’d swiped that cigarette from, but I do remember the cigarette. The blue smoke curing around us, the smell of it, the coughing, the way it burned the back of my throat, the excitement of being naughty. Smoking became a salacious thing in my life…a bad boy activity for an otherwise non-descript pudgy youth. I identified myself as a smoker; that one activity – smoking - defined who my friends were, where I went, how I spent my time, even what I ended up doing as a career. And it should be said that after twenty five years of smoking, I was really, really good at it.

Growing up, both my parents smoked, as did most of their friends. In fact, many of the influential people in my life smoked, even my teachers. In time, they all quit, but I remained a diehard smoker. Fifteen years after both my parents quit, I continued to smoke, though of course not in front of them. My aunts, my cousins, my brother and sister, all quit. I had read all cancer and heart decease and emphysema and the myriad of other health problems that could be directly linked to smoking; but I was going to smoke, and live forever.

In the years that I smoked, I tried every smoking cessation product on the market, from anti-depressants, to patches, gum, the lozenge, and acupuncture, even a few herbal remedies from the local health food store. All of those attempts failed, and I began to feel powerless and weak. I *was* powerless and weak; I had given my power away to a small cylindrical object roughly the length of my index finger. With each cigarette I smoked, I told myself my addiction was stronger than I was. It became rare that I actually enjoyed the cigarettes I smoked, and more often than not, I found my activities and my life driven by them. I would plan errands according to where and when I could smoke; I would have two cigarettes before entering the movie theater; I would light up every time I got in or out of the car regardless of how far I had traveled, or how far I would be going. On the occasions I was forced to travel a long distance without a cigarette, by plane or bus or train, I looked on the trip with dread instead of anticipation. I wasted the hours I could have been enjoying the view, reading, or simply contemplating my own navel, working myself into such a state that I could barely stand the feeling of my own skin. When the trip was over, I smoked twice as much, as if drawing nourishment from the cigarettes. I smoked because I was happy, I smoked because I was sad, I smoked because I was mad, I smoked to relax, I smoked because I was worried about how much I smoked! In time, I grew to realize that this *thing* - this habit - was taking over my days and nights. These cigarettes, which I claimed to enjoy, were creating discord. My smoking, a right I would have fought tooth and nail to protect, was constricting not only my blood vessels, but my life. I told myself, “I should quit,” repeatedly. With each pack of cigarettes I purchased, I promised myself, this would be my last, and every time I broke that promise. Both my parents have had, and survived, serious cancers, but even that was not enough evidence to make me change my behavior. I was ashamed of my smoking, I felt impotent and out of control.

If you are reading this as someone who has never smoked, perhaps your thinking I am being over dramatic, or questioning my reasoning ability or intelligence. Let me assure you I have an above average IQ (139 Avg.) and last time I checked I was a sane person. I have a college degree, and spend the majority of my time engaged in intellectual pursuits such as writing, reading, music, and theater. I exercise on a fairly regular basis, and eat a decent diet. I do not drink to excess, nor take any non-prescribed drugs. I have a stable home life, and people who love and support me. I write all this, to give you - the reader - an accurate picture of my addiction to cigarettes, and how ‘not-easy’ they are to give up.

I had my last cigarette on July 31st, 2006, and I really can’t remember it distinctly from any other cigarette I had in the almost twenty five years that I smoked. I’m certain it was outdoors, away from a public building, and out of sight of small children. I didn’t particularly enjoy it, nor did it feel all that special, I was more occupied with the knowledge of what I was about to do, which was put it out, and not look back. I imagine you asking yourself what is different this time? What gives me the confidence to say this time it’s for good. The answer is quite simple really; this time I have a plan!

I joined a Smoking Cessation group through the Tobacco Consultation Service. I attended meetings in which I learned about not just smoking in general, but my own smoking habit. I learned what smoking was doing to me, and gained an accurate perspective of the process of quitting. I learned what triggered me to smoke, and I learned methods with which to make a different choice. Most of all, I learned that I was not alone, both in my desire to quit and my enjoyment of smoking. I learned that I was not the only one who struggled and who had failed in the past. I was dubious about the whole group atmosphere, but my fears and doubts were put aside at the first meeting.

The plain and simple truth is, for many smokers, it’s not enough to want to quit. It is equally true that this is an drug-addiction, not just a nasty unhealthy habit. You have to first understand what your up against; you need a realistic picture of what is really going on, what you can expect, and what will be required of you to succeed. The literature I received in ‘group,’ the same literature I used to regard as health-nut propaganda, was backed-up, explained and broken down; in short, we did the math together. We talked about our own experiences of smoking, and our own experiences as we went through the process of preparing to quit, and we talked about what we were going through when we did quit. Not disconnected half-truths or something extracted from a book, but the real life nuts and bolts of what the diverse group was actually going through as we quit smoking together. The empowerment of verbalizing my fears, and frustrations, and to see a diversity of people nodding along in silent empathy was something I find difficult to describe. If anything, it was key – along with my own effort and desire – to my success thus far.

Each day that I choose not to smoke, prepares me for the next. It is impossible to predict the future; therefore there is no need to think of quitting smoking forever. (What a daunting thought!) It is a choice to be made today, and tomorrow, and the day after that, the year after that, five years, a decade. The decision not to smoke occurs in the present, not the past, or the future., but in the moment, in saying to yourself “Today I will not smoke.”

Chances are if your reading this, you have a similar story, or a similar smoking history. Perhaps most importantly, chances are if you are reading this, you have a vested interest in quitting smoking – even if your not the one who will be quitting, but a spouse or loved one of someone who smokes. You have already taken your first step to find out more, you want to quit.

Don’t stop here, contact the Tobacco Consultation Service, talk with your doctor, ask a friend, join a group! Take the next step, and the one after that, find your own path to free yourself from smoking. Don’t hesitate, because you can do this!

You CAN do this.

So, that’s where I’m at.