I stopped smoking last Sunday night, October 8th, 2006 a couple of weeks short of my 57th birthday! I had fallen off the twig last June, eagerly anticipating company at ATE, a little tobacco-laced joint was all that it took to get those warm, fuzzy tobacco thoughts pumping again. So four months on and it is time to get my defences back on track, to arm myself with new resolve, new armour and a knowledge that this is IT!
I carefully husbanded the dregs of the tobacco pouch through until I was able to role only a very small zephyr late on Sunday night. “That was it”, I acknowledged at the kitchen sink as I choked down a large glass of water. Water was the trick – a large glass every time I felt the urge for a smoke. I mentally started to tick off the list of smoking associates to be avoided, the likely triggers I would be encountering over the next few weeks. I reviewed my past errors, the tragic lapses and made notes.
Monday morning arrived and I got out of bed with the anticipatory thoughts of what was next. I wandered into the kitchen and instantly came up short with the memory of resolve. Water – some green cordial made it the easier to swallow.
Day One had commenced. No smoking bans and a workstation 10 floors above the pavement were advantages. I found myself mentally gearing up for a smoke all too often. I was into the water in a big way and combined with a dodgy prostate saw me wearing the already threadbare carpet between the office and the dunny down to its underlay.
An interesting revelation occurred around lunchtime on Day Two. While my body was awash with umpteen litres of water, I became aware of the process of addiction. I stood outside of me and made notes, quite objectively and with a delicious sense of triumph – I’ve got your measure – you bastard!
In moments of total absorption, I became aware of a feeling, a thought, a misty cloud wanting to envelope me in anticipatory warmth, offering goodness, even nirvana. The ‘cloud’ entered my psyche, growing and developing – this wonderful sense of happiness just beyond my here and now. It grew with extraordinary intensity. I was finding myself preparing for pursuit, standing at my desk, tapping my breast pocket for reassurance of pouch and lighter’s presence.
As my non-smoking confidence grew, I found myself able to objectively identify these approaching ‘warm and fuzzies’, and to bolster my defences. “Hey – I know who and what you are! Piss off, get away, I am a non-smoker.”
At Day Five, I am drinking less water. I am arriving at ‘warm and fuzzy’s-door less often and can now even smile, confident in the knowledge that I am able to simply sidestep the message effectively. I am still wary of other smokers and while today I am travelling with a casual smoker, have rung ahead and asked that she doesn’t bring ANY tobacco with her.
I move on, one day at a time but know that as a non-smoker, I will not ever smoke tobacco again.
Post script. It is 13th April, 2010 – I have had two cigarettes in the intervening period. I still have a craving – however brief and note that I still inhale deeply as nearby smokers exhale. The difference now is that I am NOT a smoker. I have the craving but my armour thickens as the year’s roll on. I am a pain in the arse to smokers – if it keeps me straight, I don’t care.