Sunday, October 5, 2008.
I've been smoking for about nine years this November. When I started, I was in a very dark spot in my life--one, foolishly, I thought I would never come out from under. It started as a sort of psychological rebellion; a sort of "I don't care anymore" mentality. I never thought about the consequences.
I've been smoking for about nine years this November. When I started, I was in a very dark spot in my life--one, foolishly, I thought I would never come out from under. It started as a sort of psychological rebellion; a sort of "I don't care anymore" mentality. I never thought about the consequences.
You know, I was Drew. I was invincible.
I was becoming emotionally and psychologically immune to pain.
They say quitting smoking is the emotional and psychological equivalent of losing a close friend. They say it's harder to quit smoking than it is to quit heroin. They say a lot things to scare you. For the short-term, it makes everyday life a lot more complicated. It's harder to drink a cup of coffee. It's harder to drive your car. It's harder to be at work. It's harder to face any little adversity throughout your day. It's harder to eat. It's harder to drink a beer. It's hard work.
I've quit semi-successfully twice before. Once, I used the nicotine patch and it lasted for about three weeks. I quit "cold turkey" and it lasted about five months. Recently, my doctor offered to prescribe Chantix to me, but I told him it was a little too Clockwork Orange for my taste. I don't think he understood.
They say quitting smoking is the emotional and psychological equivalent of losing a close friend. They say it's harder to quit smoking than it is to quit heroin. They say a lot things to scare you. For the short-term, it makes everyday life a lot more complicated. It's harder to drink a cup of coffee. It's harder to drive your car. It's harder to be at work. It's harder to face any little adversity throughout your day. It's harder to eat. It's harder to drink a beer. It's hard work.
I've quit semi-successfully twice before. Once, I used the nicotine patch and it lasted for about three weeks. I quit "cold turkey" and it lasted about five months. Recently, my doctor offered to prescribe Chantix to me, but I told him it was a little too Clockwork Orange for my taste. I don't think he understood.
For the past few years, I've tried to keep people around me oblivious to the fact. I didn't want people to know, and for the most part I think I did a decent enough job. I would slip sometimes when it really mattered. The point is, I tried to keep a part of me hidden from others--those close to me--and it only worked to separate me farther from them. From you.
For that I am sorry.
This is, in part, the reason I am making this day public--in hopes of increasing the accountability factor by about fifty-fold. So I implore you, please approach me, please ask me, please help me not forget. I promise I will not snap back, or even punch you in the face, as strong though the urge may temporarily be.
I'm tired of hiding. And I'm asking for your help.
For my part, I have set up my own safeguards to help prevent relapsing. In the top drawer of my dresser, I have the last pack of cigarettes I ever bought containing a single cigarette--the only cigarette I never smoked. On the outside of the pack are pictures of my three daughters--Alyse, Alex, and Allie. As strong as the urge may ever arise in me again, I figure if I can resist that, I can resist anything.
Then I can really be invincible.
1 comment:
thanks for sharing!
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