Quitting Smoking: Losing Your Worst Best Friend
Sun 15 Aug 2010 13:26:13 | 7 comments
Quitting smoking is harder than kicking a heroin habit.
That’s a fact I learned in three different Smoking Cessation programs I participated in more than 20 years ago. The reason doesn’t have much to do with the substances themselves – nicotine vs. opiates. It has more to do with using out in the open vs. abusing in private. As a former smoker, quitting meant not only giving up nicotine, it also meant giving up social rituals that were a huge part of my life. You don’t see many heroin users shooting up during a game of pool. But smokers – particularly 25 years ago – were part of any social scene.
I’m talking about the 70s, when you could find students and faculty smoking side-by-side at my high school’s smoking patio. And the 80s, when it was perfectly acceptable to smoke at work – in my office, not in some area behind the trash dumpsters. I was a writer for IBM in North Carolina, where it’s practically mandatory to support the tobacco farmers by lighting up. My office came with a computer, an ergonomically-correct chair, and two black, molded-plastic ashtrays.
We smoked in restaurants, retail stores and even health clubs. I remember the year they banned smoking on the tennis courts, meaning we could no longer have a cigarette break between sets. It caused a huge rift among the club’s membership, and “vandals” continuously stole the No Smoking signs.
We smoked on airplanes. The ashtray was built right into the seats’ armrest, so even if you didn’t smoke, you certainly reeked of the habit after your flight.
And then there was smoking-after-sex. Sweaty and satisfied, my lover and I would pass a cigarette back and forth, sharing a ritual nearly as intimate as lovemaking.
As a writer, I had one particular habit that was as hard to break as quitting smoking itself. I would type the first draft of an article, a speech or a script, then lean back, light up, and review what I had written -- making edits with one hand, tapping ash into my black plastic bowl with the other. I’d continue writing this way until the project was complete, and then reward myself with yet another cigarette. Whenever I tried to quit smoking, I felt as if I could no longer write. My mind got foggy. My words got lost. I longed for the rhythm of write-edit-smoke, write-edit-smoke.
This is why becoming a non-smoker meant more than kicking a habit; it meant abandoning a lifestyle. We were young, healthy students and professionals, smoking as an accompaniment to everything else we were doing. A cigarette was the finishing touch to any meal; a morning partner to my mug of coffee or Diet Coke. And it was definitely what I held in one hand when the other was holding a cocktail. If you were at a nightclub in the 80s, you were either inhaling your own smoke or that of 90 percent of the other people bellying up to the bar.
I tried seriously to quit smoking three different times from 1988 to 1990. The first few days weren’t so bad, because the initial recovery is so immediate. In just 12 hours of non-smoking, your lungs begin to heal from the more than 4000 chemicals in cigarettes. “The morning after” took on a whole new meaning as I woke up without the tightness in my chest or that annoying cough. But after a week or two, I would start to forget why I quit; I would conveniently misremember how bad my symptoms were. And by this time, I was in the depths of the withdrawal – depression, food cravings, anxiety, and an irritability that blows away anything I’ve experienced in my pre-menopausal life—at least, so far. (God help me and those who live with me!)
It wasn’t just the nicotine I missed; it was my pre-quitter life. When I wasn’t smoking, I couldn’t possibly go out to clubs, and what else did single 20-somethings do at night? If I went out, I’d inevitably have a drink, which would weaken my willpower and then I’d have just one cigarette. Then I’d have another cocktail and another cigarette and pretty soon I wasn’t a non-smoker anymore.
And even though I could breathe better with each sunrise, I had trouble waking up without lighting up. That’s when I truly felt as if I’d lost my best friend. I’d spend the morning sad, depressed and lonely. I’d go through my day feeling lost and miserable. Today, more than 20 years since I quit smoking for the last time, I still remember that feeling lasting nearly two months.
I also remember feeling trapped by the habit. One day, I was in a meeting at work that was coming up on two hours. I started getting antsy, tense and distracted. All I could think about was when this damned meeting would end so I could get my fix. And there you have it: the real reason I finally quit. I was no longer willing for anything to have that much power over me. I realized that cigarettes were controlling my mind, body, and spirit. It scared me to know I was so dependent.
And here’s the kicker: I smoked 10 to 15 cigarettes a day. Less than a pack. Any smoker will tell you I was a lightweight. But there’s no such thing as being “a little addicted.” It was as hard for me to quit as it was for my mother, who had smoked more than four packs a day for 45 years. I know, because we quit together.
My mother had heard about an acupuncturist/M.D. who had great success helping people quit smoking. Actually, he had great success helping people with a whole host of health problems, including weight-loss. As a by-product of their treatment, his patients realized they no longer craved cigarettes. My mother had seriously tried to quit smoking only one other time in her life, and we basically begged her to start again to save our family’s sanity. But when she heard about this acupuncturist from friends who swore by him, she felt he was the guy who could help her quit smoking AND not gain weight, which was one of her greatest fears. Having taken off (and kept off) more than 50 pounds decades earlier, she wasn’t beyond suffering a little emphysema if she could maintain her slim figure. Now she thought she had a solution she could live lithely with.
So my mother and I went together to the acupuncturist and had hair-thin needles put in precise locations in our earlobes. The procedure was painless and took less than an hour. The doctor also “glued” small metal circles to acupuncture points on our outer ears so that when we did feel a cigarette craving coming on, we could press the metal circle and it would trigger an acupuncture point that relaxed us and took the craving away. We were told that the procedure would help right away, and would last anywhere from several months to forever. In a few weeks, we could peel the metal circles off of our ears with no ill side effects or returned cravings. If we needed a “booster” – a re-treat any time over the next year – the doctor would provide it free of charge.
For the next 48 hours, my mother and I stayed at her house, pressing our ears and helping each other through crying jags, mood swings and food binges. My mother never had another cigarette; I faltered a few months later and came back for a booster. I haven’t smoked – or even wanted a cigarette – in more than 20 years).
My mother and I promised each other we would never start again, because both of us recognized that one of us might not make it through the next time alive: if the cigarettes didn’t kill us, our two-day quitting-induced cravings just might.
What I know now:
* Don’t start. The surest way not to get addicted to smoking (and not to have to go through the real pain of quitting) is to never take it up in the first place.
* Smoking is gross. It turns your teeth brown, your fingernails yellow, your hair brittle. It gives you lines around your mouth that no amount of collagen can erase. It also makes your breath smell like ass. Not to mention the fact that it causes throat, tongue and lung cancer, emphysema, hardening of the arteries, heart disease, stroke, death. And it’s not just the nicotine; the cigarette paper itself has more than 25 known carcinogens (cancer-causing chemicals).
* There will come a time when you want to quit. Maybe you can’t catch your breath as you climb the stairs. Maybe you can’t keep up with your kids or grandchildren. Maybe your hacking cough is started to scare you. There will come a time when you want to quit, and it will be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do.
* Smoking becomes a lifestyle; when you quit, you’ll have to quit your well-loved habits, too. I gave up drinking, even a glass of wine, for nearly a year to keep me from backsliding into my old habit of smoking when I drank. I had to replace my after-meal cigarette with a breath mint, because for years that cigarette had signaled that I was satiated. And while I didn’t actually give up sex, I did have a hard time replacing that post-coital smoke with cuddling.
* If you’ve failed with other stop smoking programs and patches, try alternative medicine, like acupuncture. Acupuncture needles are placed at specific points near the surface of the skin which, when triggered, can alter your various biochemical and physiological responses. Smoking cessation acupuncture focuses on significantly reducing the jitters, cravings, irritability and restlessness that come with quitting, making these symptoms more bearable and shorter in duration. Acupuncture also aids in relaxation and detoxification. It is proven so effective that many courts mandate acupuncture as a treatment for drug addicts.
* Your kids will do as you say, not as you do. When I was a child, my siblings and I would hide my parents’ cigarettes or throw them in the trash and risk getting grounded for it. My brother, before he started smoking, would see me smoking in public and literally pull the cigarette from my mouth and stomp it out. And yet, all of us became smokers before we turned 20. And all of us have horror stories about the many times we tried to quit. As a parent, you are a role model; your kids will emulate you. And second-hand smoke has as many health risks as smoking itself. Some states are considering legislation that would make exposing children to smoking equivalent to child abuse.
* Smoking is stupid. Just like texting while driving. Stupid stuff doesn’t have to be outlawed for us to stop before it kills us.
Ginger Emas is a freelance business writer, the mother of a 14-year-old son, and the author of the hilarious and helpful book, “Back On Top: Fearless Dating After Divorce.” She is a regular ShareWIK.com columnist, and has written for Skirt! magazine, More.com, Glamour.com, LovingYou.com and several other women-centric media.
I’m talking about the 70s, when you could find students and faculty smoking side-by-side at my high school’s smoking patio. And the 80s, when it was perfectly acceptable to smoke at work – in my office, not in some area behind the trash dumpsters. I was a writer for IBM in North Carolina, where it’s practically mandatory to support the tobacco farmers by lighting up. My office came with a computer, an ergonomically-correct chair, and two black, molded-plastic ashtrays.
We smoked in restaurants, retail stores and even health clubs. I remember the year they banned smoking on the tennis courts, meaning we could no longer have a cigarette break between sets. It caused a huge rift among the club’s membership, and “vandals” continuously stole the No Smoking signs.
We smoked on airplanes. The ashtray was built right into the seats’ armrest, so even if you didn’t smoke, you certainly reeked of the habit after your flight.
And then there was smoking-after-sex. Sweaty and satisfied, my lover and I would pass a cigarette back and forth, sharing a ritual nearly as intimate as lovemaking.
As a writer, I had one particular habit that was as hard to break as quitting smoking itself. I would type the first draft of an article, a speech or a script, then lean back, light up, and review what I had written -- making edits with one hand, tapping ash into my black plastic bowl with the other. I’d continue writing this way until the project was complete, and then reward myself with yet another cigarette. Whenever I tried to quit smoking, I felt as if I could no longer write. My mind got foggy. My words got lost. I longed for the rhythm of write-edit-smoke, write-edit-smoke.
This is why becoming a non-smoker meant more than kicking a habit; it meant abandoning a lifestyle. We were young, healthy students and professionals, smoking as an accompaniment to everything else we were doing. A cigarette was the finishing touch to any meal; a morning partner to my mug of coffee or Diet Coke. And it was definitely what I held in one hand when the other was holding a cocktail. If you were at a nightclub in the 80s, you were either inhaling your own smoke or that of 90 percent of the other people bellying up to the bar.
I tried seriously to quit smoking three different times from 1988 to 1990. The first few days weren’t so bad, because the initial recovery is so immediate. In just 12 hours of non-smoking, your lungs begin to heal from the more than 4000 chemicals in cigarettes. “The morning after” took on a whole new meaning as I woke up without the tightness in my chest or that annoying cough. But after a week or two, I would start to forget why I quit; I would conveniently misremember how bad my symptoms were. And by this time, I was in the depths of the withdrawal – depression, food cravings, anxiety, and an irritability that blows away anything I’ve experienced in my pre-menopausal life—at least, so far. (God help me and those who live with me!)
It wasn’t just the nicotine I missed; it was my pre-quitter life. When I wasn’t smoking, I couldn’t possibly go out to clubs, and what else did single 20-somethings do at night? If I went out, I’d inevitably have a drink, which would weaken my willpower and then I’d have just one cigarette. Then I’d have another cocktail and another cigarette and pretty soon I wasn’t a non-smoker anymore.
And even though I could breathe better with each sunrise, I had trouble waking up without lighting up. That’s when I truly felt as if I’d lost my best friend. I’d spend the morning sad, depressed and lonely. I’d go through my day feeling lost and miserable. Today, more than 20 years since I quit smoking for the last time, I still remember that feeling lasting nearly two months.
I also remember feeling trapped by the habit. One day, I was in a meeting at work that was coming up on two hours. I started getting antsy, tense and distracted. All I could think about was when this damned meeting would end so I could get my fix. And there you have it: the real reason I finally quit. I was no longer willing for anything to have that much power over me. I realized that cigarettes were controlling my mind, body, and spirit. It scared me to know I was so dependent.
And here’s the kicker: I smoked 10 to 15 cigarettes a day. Less than a pack. Any smoker will tell you I was a lightweight. But there’s no such thing as being “a little addicted.” It was as hard for me to quit as it was for my mother, who had smoked more than four packs a day for 45 years. I know, because we quit together.
My mother had heard about an acupuncturist/M.D. who had great success helping people quit smoking. Actually, he had great success helping people with a whole host of health problems, including weight-loss. As a by-product of their treatment, his patients realized they no longer craved cigarettes. My mother had seriously tried to quit smoking only one other time in her life, and we basically begged her to start again to save our family’s sanity. But when she heard about this acupuncturist from friends who swore by him, she felt he was the guy who could help her quit smoking AND not gain weight, which was one of her greatest fears. Having taken off (and kept off) more than 50 pounds decades earlier, she wasn’t beyond suffering a little emphysema if she could maintain her slim figure. Now she thought she had a solution she could live lithely with.
So my mother and I went together to the acupuncturist and had hair-thin needles put in precise locations in our earlobes. The procedure was painless and took less than an hour. The doctor also “glued” small metal circles to acupuncture points on our outer ears so that when we did feel a cigarette craving coming on, we could press the metal circle and it would trigger an acupuncture point that relaxed us and took the craving away. We were told that the procedure would help right away, and would last anywhere from several months to forever. In a few weeks, we could peel the metal circles off of our ears with no ill side effects or returned cravings. If we needed a “booster” – a re-treat any time over the next year – the doctor would provide it free of charge.
For the next 48 hours, my mother and I stayed at her house, pressing our ears and helping each other through crying jags, mood swings and food binges. My mother never had another cigarette; I faltered a few months later and came back for a booster. I haven’t smoked – or even wanted a cigarette – in more than 20 years).
My mother and I promised each other we would never start again, because both of us recognized that one of us might not make it through the next time alive: if the cigarettes didn’t kill us, our two-day quitting-induced cravings just might.
What I know now:
* Don’t start. The surest way not to get addicted to smoking (and not to have to go through the real pain of quitting) is to never take it up in the first place.
* Smoking is gross. It turns your teeth brown, your fingernails yellow, your hair brittle. It gives you lines around your mouth that no amount of collagen can erase. It also makes your breath smell like ass. Not to mention the fact that it causes throat, tongue and lung cancer, emphysema, hardening of the arteries, heart disease, stroke, death. And it’s not just the nicotine; the cigarette paper itself has more than 25 known carcinogens (cancer-causing chemicals).
* There will come a time when you want to quit. Maybe you can’t catch your breath as you climb the stairs. Maybe you can’t keep up with your kids or grandchildren. Maybe your hacking cough is started to scare you. There will come a time when you want to quit, and it will be one of the hardest things you’ll ever have to do.
* Smoking becomes a lifestyle; when you quit, you’ll have to quit your well-loved habits, too. I gave up drinking, even a glass of wine, for nearly a year to keep me from backsliding into my old habit of smoking when I drank. I had to replace my after-meal cigarette with a breath mint, because for years that cigarette had signaled that I was satiated. And while I didn’t actually give up sex, I did have a hard time replacing that post-coital smoke with cuddling.
* If you’ve failed with other stop smoking programs and patches, try alternative medicine, like acupuncture. Acupuncture needles are placed at specific points near the surface of the skin which, when triggered, can alter your various biochemical and physiological responses. Smoking cessation acupuncture focuses on significantly reducing the jitters, cravings, irritability and restlessness that come with quitting, making these symptoms more bearable and shorter in duration. Acupuncture also aids in relaxation and detoxification. It is proven so effective that many courts mandate acupuncture as a treatment for drug addicts.
* Your kids will do as you say, not as you do. When I was a child, my siblings and I would hide my parents’ cigarettes or throw them in the trash and risk getting grounded for it. My brother, before he started smoking, would see me smoking in public and literally pull the cigarette from my mouth and stomp it out. And yet, all of us became smokers before we turned 20. And all of us have horror stories about the many times we tried to quit. As a parent, you are a role model; your kids will emulate you. And second-hand smoke has as many health risks as smoking itself. Some states are considering legislation that would make exposing children to smoking equivalent to child abuse.
* Smoking is stupid. Just like texting while driving. Stupid stuff doesn’t have to be outlawed for us to stop before it kills us.
Ginger Emas is a freelance business writer, the mother of a 14-year-old son, and the author of the hilarious and helpful book, “Back On Top: Fearless Dating After Divorce.” She is a regular ShareWIK.com columnist, and has written for Skirt! magazine, More.com, Glamour.com, LovingYou.com and several other women-centric media.
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