(actually written 2/18/11)
I know I am hardly the first person to discover this. The raging fits of self pity make me feel like no one could ever really know what it's like, but it's truly one of the more awful things I've ever done. If *they* knew, they would just let me smoke. But no one's really asking me to quit really. If this is the worst things ever, then I suppose all that means is that my life really isn't that hard in the grand scheme of things.
The end of something always brings to mind the beginning. The truth is, I am still not sure why I ever started smoking to begin with. It didn't make sense. Those who have known me since before I was a smoker will attest to that. In fact, most people who find out I smoke admit that it was surprising that I do.
Most people don't even have any concept of how much I have been smoking and think quitting, for me, won't be "that bad". I average a pack a day as a baseline and that fluctuates depending on stress level, boredom and coffee intake. The only time I smoke less is when I travel, which has become more and more rare in the past year or two. How it began is still a bit of a mystery to me, but I'm sure it will become clearer in time.
The first few days suck the most by far. As someone who has "quit" a few times, I know it all too well and it was part of why I was hesitant to put myself through it again. It's when you deal most with the physical aspects of your addiction and withdrawal, and its a little different for everyone. For me, it means grinding my teeth, tension in every muscle of my body, realizing that I'm not breathing, digging my nails into my own skin, eating but never feeling satisfied with anything, complete exhaustion by 6pm followed by a desire to just go to bed so today can be over. And sometimes that's the best thing I can do.
Then there's the psychological aspect. People who have never dealt with addiction have no clue how *not* simple it is to quit. Addiction is a complete minefield of traps you have created over the course of imbibing, associating your habit with a myriad of activities, situations, people, settings, rituals, etc. And most of all, unlearning how to tell yourself "no". I thought about making a complete list of what makes me want to smoke, but here's a sampling of ones that have cropped up over the last few days-
-getting ready to go any where
-getting in my car to go any where
-particular landmarks on my usual routes
-eating any meal or snack
-drinking coffee
-tasting espresso
-putting away groceries
-finishing any task I don't really want to do
-watching anything
-fascinating discussions with friends
-cleaning my house in any fashion
-any lulls in activity
-about a million more intangibles...
Essentially pretty much anything I do that feels remotely productive makes me want to give myself a "treat". I have built myself a hell of a reward system, gaining a little dose of death with every "Well done!" For some it equates to "freedom". For others it's their rebellion. No matter what it's a dangerous mind game that makes clean exit strategy impossible.
Most people have no idea what they've managed to build until they try to unbuild it. And you can't just demolish it. God, that would be nice. I've been wearing a patch for the last 72 hours and I've still managed to entertain the idea of eating a cigarette...at least 7 times. I won't do it, but it's still in there.
Outsiders will also often note the instability of mood of a quitter. They write it off as irrational reaction due to withdrawal. While that isn't completely inaccurate, there is some degree of rationale behind the behavior. We are in a constant siege of unfulfilled desire. We manage to forget about it for a while, but then some unexpected trigger crops up and we momentarily forget that we are quitting. The world is a normal place again where we are free to indulge when we feel like it. But then the reality of our choice sets in as we remember that we aren't "allowed". And it's not just now. It's NEVER AGAIN. Enter: temper tantrum.
Even the most positive person in the world wants to throttle a puppy every now and then when you're emotionally jerked around by your own, supposedly "good decision". It's a sick game of dangle and take away where you're constantly playing both sides, but never want it to be your turn. Honestly, it's one of the most conscious forms of cognitive dissonance I've ever experienced. You chose not to do it, and it's rationally a completely sound decision, but you want it with every fiber of your being. And, while all this is going on, people feel the need to congratulate you on your choice and tell you how awesome it is, in an attempt to show their support. The thing is...it doesn't feel the least bit awesome. In fact is feels completely miserable times a bajillion. Their encouragement, while well placed, feels like taunting and we're just looking for someone to blame (besides ourselves) for our pain and misery. The best I can muster in this situation is a half-hearted "thanks" and try to change the subject. If the celebration of my awesomeness continues, my walking away just means I like you enough to not try to kick your shins or unleash the more unfortunate expressions of my quippy wit upon you. Sometimes I still fail.
I've heard it said a ton of times "You will quit when you are ready", but I never understood it until this time, which gives me reason to hope this is actually it for me. I stole a cigarette from a coworker the other day and the entire 45 minute drive home I looked at it, touched it, pretended to smoke it, debated when to smoke it, whether or not to smoke it...and after about 30 minutes it came to me. The mere fact that I hadn't lit it up yet meant that the impulse to *not* smoke was winning out in action, even though it felt like I was mentally losing the battle. The desire to not smoke was at least as strong as the desire to smoke. I had been so fixated on how badly I wanted to that I hadn't even considered it's negative image. Now to just stay the course.
Here's to day 4. It can only get easier, right?