It’s now been more than three weeks since I’ve had a cigarette. Yesterday was a challenge though. The next hardest one before that was the day I first came back to Korea. The next one before that was the day I first stopped smoking. Does it get easier? Most of the time, yes, with occasional periods of sheer torture. They don’t last long, thankfully, and I’m still fighting the good fight.

When a strong craving hits I try to take a few deep breaths and appreciate being able to do so. I smell the air and think about the smells I used to miss. (That wasn’t always a bad thing, but still…) Drinking water and chewing gum also help. It’s the classic oral stimulation thing. Mostly though, the real trick is not sitting around and stewing about wanting a cigarette. It’s important to stay occupied, better still to be occupied and with other people, preferably other non-smokers.

Come to think of it, I haven’t really talked about why I suddenly decided to quit. I’m sort of violating the stuff I just said, since I am alone right now and explicitly focusing on smoking, but maybe telling my story will be worth it.

My first cigarette was a Gauloises blonde, at the highly unusual age of 25. Like, who starts smoking at 25? How and why I started smoking is part of a much larger story. Suffice it to say it was one of the dumber, if not the single dumbest decision I’ve made in life, worse still because I can’t blame it on peer pressure or Joe Camel. I chose it.

During my last semester of college I smoked maybe one or two cigarettes a day. I smoked so few I got a buzz every single time. Somehow two became three, then three became six, then before long I was up to half a pack. Still, it wasn’t until I moved to Portland in 1997 that I became a truly dedicated smoker. There, I quickly ramped up to about a pack-a-day, and stayed there for the next eight years.

The problem was whenever I would visit my strict Mormon parents it would cause me much anxiety. They never “officially” knew I was a smoker, but they aren’t stupid of course. I’m sure they knew, and I knew that they knew, but it became one of the many things we didn’t talk about. (Uncomfortable silence is really the foundation of a healthy family, don’t you think?) Nevertheless, it’s not like I could say, “Excuse me Mom and Dad, while I step out for a smoke break.” So during my visits home I would be reduced to the level of a fifteen year-old, sneaking out to get my fix, and then scrubbing my hands and popping breath mints to try and cover the smell.

On this most recent trip home, I decided to use nicotine patches and do my best to live like a human and not simply be ruled by my addiction. The patches helped a lot, but I still found myself sneaking two or three cigarettes each day I was home.

When I left Phoenix this time and got down to Tucson, my first thought was “Thank God! Now I can smoke again,” and lit up immediately. Fortunately, my next thought was how stupid that was. I had had such a great head start over the past few days. Instead of going back to the insanity, why not just keep going forward? “No pressure,” I told myself, “and maybe I can’t do it, but let’s just try it for a while.”

That was Thursday, August 17^th. The next day, I didn’t smoke any cigarettes at all. On Saturday the 19^th I had a slight relapse and smoked two. From Sunday the 20^th until today I’ve had none.

While there is never really a best time to quit smoking, I think the odds were pretty well stacked in my favor. Besides using the nicotine patches (which I can definitely recommend for anyone else thinking about quitting) and getting the little head start at my parents’ place, I had the advantage of being out of my normal routine, being away from all my usual triggers, and being with supportive friends almost constantly during my first two weeks on the wagon.

I hope I’ve had my last cigarette ever, but who can tell?. In my world it’s best to avoid sweeping proclamations. I know I’m not going to smoke today, and then we’ll see how tomorrow goes.

Labels: Nicoderm, quitting smoking