I’ve been smoking since I was about 14 or 15 years old, in my late 20’s now. I’ve been hearing for years the horror stories of people who have made the attempt at smoke cessation. It had never occurred to me to quit before and I was vaguely worried about what will happen when I finally do decide to give it up. Three weeks ago I walked home from the bar I frequent, smoking a particularly delicious cigarette; one of those mid-summer, perfect temperature, cigarettes. That rarest of cigarette which tastes of freedom, and somehow purple. I stood outside of my apartment and thought: “a smoke doesn’t get much better than this, why not end on a high note?” I pulled on last lungful of goodness and it was all over but the shouting…
The inevitable shouting of non-smoking… the sweats, the pains, the headaches… the weightgaining, moodswinging, impossibility of depriving my body that most precious gift, nicotine… the horror, the horror of smoke cessation.
Let me tell you something kids: Jesus Christ on a pogo stick is quitting smoking easy.
I don’t have the slightest idea what these people were going on about. I quit three weeks ago, Sunday. I had a bad urge while playing Tuesday poker with beers and friends; so I fought off the urge. I urged on Wednesday dollar beer night, again winning against random wants. The last hurdle, disc golf… I habitually smoked when I’m golfing, ever since I started playing, like eight years ago, that has been a constant. I played my first smoke free round last week, and the box of cinnamon and tea-tree tooth picks I now carry was decimated, but I remained smoke free. And, now, a week later, I go hours and occasional days without thinking about a cigarette. I assume “the worst” to be over. I’m actually amazed how simple this whole thing was, and recommend it to anyone curious about will/lung power.
Summation: if you are having a hard time quitting, you either haven’t convinced yourself you want to, or you need to, proverbially, “grow a set”. At least that’s how it appears to me.