poledriver
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2005
- Messages
- 11,543
Can I quit smoking? My habit of a lifetime is going up in smoke
For far too long, it’s been my dirty little secret. A shameful habit I’ve tried to keep hidden, leaving me to feed my furious addiction in private. So let me just take a deep breath and confess.
I am a smoker.
And not just a cheeky-ciggie-with-a-glass-of-chardy-on-a-Friday-night sort of a smoker.
I mean the full-blown, pack-a-day, gasping-for-air-when-I-wake-up-in-the-morning, this-is-definitely-going-to-kill-me-if-I-don’t-stop kind.
And I do want to stop. I honestly, desperately do.
In fact for the last few years I’ve been in a constant state of “trying to quit” which, most giver-upper-ers will tell you, can feel like a frustrating merry-go-round of failure. I have tried absolutely everything: nicotine gum, patches, inhalers and the lozenges. I’ve seen three different hypnotherapists, two acupuncturists and a psychotherapist.
Doctors have prescribed me heavy-duty smoking-cessation drugs which, while they worked for a while, gave me shocking nightmares and mood swings. I’ve indulged in a health retreat and countless bizarre Chinese therapies which left me hundreds of dollars poorer… and, dishearteningly, still craving a ciggie.
I’ve seen the depressing stats, I know the risks. So how did a (reasonably) intelligent woman like me get myself into this mess?
The absolutely bonkers thing is I started smoking when I was old enough to know better. I was 21 when I (stupidly) coughed and spluttered through my first fag, back in the old days when DOSA’s (designated outdoor smoking areas) didn’t exist and a pack only cost a tenner and change. Until then I’d been stoic, resisting all the usual peer pressure to light up right through high school and even uni. I swore I would never, ever, smoke like my parents did.
Falling in the trap
But like most smokers, I fell into the trap. I can still vividly remember everything about the moment I became hooked. There was a dingy nightclub, the air hanging heavy with the stale tang of tobacco, and the lie I would live to regret ever telling myself: “Oh it’s okay, I can just have one…”
Smokers who say they don’t want to quit are, quite frankly, liars.
Smokers who say they don’t want to quit are, quite frankly, liars. Being powerless over an orange-tipped white stick - jammed with tobacco, nicotine and god knows what else – is an awful way to live and the hacking cough of a really committed smoker (guilty as charged) is hardly glamorous.
For far too long, I’ve tried to ignore the frightening images of rotting teeth/gangrenous legs/blackened lungs plastered on the front of ciggie packets and on tv. I’ve tried to keep hoping that the next drag I take won’t be the one that causes a cell to mutate and multiply into mouth, throat or lung cancer.
That’s why I’m going public. I need to put it on record. When I quit this time – the last time - I need to be held accountable.
Kinda like Shane Warne did when he kicked the darts back in the 90’s. But, you know, hopefully with a better outcome.
I’ve got a hell of a lot more to lose.
So how will I stay on track this time after so many spectacular and spirit-crushing failures?
Well, unlike Warnie, there’s no big cash incentive from a nicotine company to keep me on the straight and narrow.
But frankly, I’ve got a hell of a lot more to lose.
A couple of months ago, I married a wonderful man who absolutely loathes smoking. After seeing the fear and worry in his eyes every time I light up, I promised him that once we were married, I’d extinguish my final cigarette.
This time, there’s a lot a stake: we eventually want a family and he doesn’t want to be holding my hand in some hospital oncology ward twenty years down the track.
So I’ve quit. Cold turkey. For real.
I’m not going to lie, so far it’s been a bit of a struggle; but nothing compared to the horrible challenges I’m sure to face if I stay a smoker.
And so these days, and they’re early days, when I get that urge for a hit, I remind myself what I’ve got to lose. But most importantly, I’m trying to remember to breathe.
With user comments -
http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/ne...oing-up-in-smoke/story-fni0cwl5-1227079422864
For far too long, it’s been my dirty little secret. A shameful habit I’ve tried to keep hidden, leaving me to feed my furious addiction in private. So let me just take a deep breath and confess.
I am a smoker.
And not just a cheeky-ciggie-with-a-glass-of-chardy-on-a-Friday-night sort of a smoker.
I mean the full-blown, pack-a-day, gasping-for-air-when-I-wake-up-in-the-morning, this-is-definitely-going-to-kill-me-if-I-don’t-stop kind.
And I do want to stop. I honestly, desperately do.
In fact for the last few years I’ve been in a constant state of “trying to quit” which, most giver-upper-ers will tell you, can feel like a frustrating merry-go-round of failure. I have tried absolutely everything: nicotine gum, patches, inhalers and the lozenges. I’ve seen three different hypnotherapists, two acupuncturists and a psychotherapist.
Doctors have prescribed me heavy-duty smoking-cessation drugs which, while they worked for a while, gave me shocking nightmares and mood swings. I’ve indulged in a health retreat and countless bizarre Chinese therapies which left me hundreds of dollars poorer… and, dishearteningly, still craving a ciggie.
I’ve seen the depressing stats, I know the risks. So how did a (reasonably) intelligent woman like me get myself into this mess?
The absolutely bonkers thing is I started smoking when I was old enough to know better. I was 21 when I (stupidly) coughed and spluttered through my first fag, back in the old days when DOSA’s (designated outdoor smoking areas) didn’t exist and a pack only cost a tenner and change. Until then I’d been stoic, resisting all the usual peer pressure to light up right through high school and even uni. I swore I would never, ever, smoke like my parents did.
Falling in the trap
But like most smokers, I fell into the trap. I can still vividly remember everything about the moment I became hooked. There was a dingy nightclub, the air hanging heavy with the stale tang of tobacco, and the lie I would live to regret ever telling myself: “Oh it’s okay, I can just have one…”
Smokers who say they don’t want to quit are, quite frankly, liars.
Smokers who say they don’t want to quit are, quite frankly, liars. Being powerless over an orange-tipped white stick - jammed with tobacco, nicotine and god knows what else – is an awful way to live and the hacking cough of a really committed smoker (guilty as charged) is hardly glamorous.
For far too long, I’ve tried to ignore the frightening images of rotting teeth/gangrenous legs/blackened lungs plastered on the front of ciggie packets and on tv. I’ve tried to keep hoping that the next drag I take won’t be the one that causes a cell to mutate and multiply into mouth, throat or lung cancer.
That’s why I’m going public. I need to put it on record. When I quit this time – the last time - I need to be held accountable.
Kinda like Shane Warne did when he kicked the darts back in the 90’s. But, you know, hopefully with a better outcome.
I’ve got a hell of a lot more to lose.
So how will I stay on track this time after so many spectacular and spirit-crushing failures?
Well, unlike Warnie, there’s no big cash incentive from a nicotine company to keep me on the straight and narrow.
But frankly, I’ve got a hell of a lot more to lose.
A couple of months ago, I married a wonderful man who absolutely loathes smoking. After seeing the fear and worry in his eyes every time I light up, I promised him that once we were married, I’d extinguish my final cigarette.
This time, there’s a lot a stake: we eventually want a family and he doesn’t want to be holding my hand in some hospital oncology ward twenty years down the track.
So I’ve quit. Cold turkey. For real.
I’m not going to lie, so far it’s been a bit of a struggle; but nothing compared to the horrible challenges I’m sure to face if I stay a smoker.
And so these days, and they’re early days, when I get that urge for a hit, I remind myself what I’ve got to lose. But most importantly, I’m trying to remember to breathe.
With user comments -
http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/ne...oing-up-in-smoke/story-fni0cwl5-1227079422864
