I first started experimenting with smoking when I was about 15 or 16 years old. Lots of girls at my school were trying it out, and it seemed like a pretty cool thing to do. I remember that I didn't even like smoking - they tasted pretty unpleasant and made me feel sick. But I wanted to be one of the crowd, and so I persevered! I remember getting caught smoking at school - oh the shame of it. The headteacher phoned my parents, and my dad wouldn't speak to me for days - and that upset me for more than a telling off - I was mortified. Mum intervened and got the peace back, and it wasn't mentioned ever again. By the time I got to 18 I was buying cigs regularly, and was 'hooked.' I had no idea at that time just how terribly addictive nicotine is - and had no clue whatsoever that it would be years in the future before I learned about the behavioural aspects of my smoking habit, and many practice quits before I succeeded. Today, 2.5 years since I quit, I am certain that I will never start smoking again.
Oh how I tried to quit smoking over the next 25 years. However, quitting was always something everyone else seemed to be able to do, never me. Sure, I used to try - using gum or patches mainly, but even had a go with acupuncture and hypnosis. I really used to think that if I got enough 'tools' together I'd sail through it. I really did used to think quitting was just about weaning myself off nicotine and nothing else. I recognised there was a 'habit' element to it all, having a cig at certain times eg after a meal, but never for one minute did I realise that each cig was inextricably intertwined with every moment of my day, every feeling I experienced and every emotion I was going through.
The 10 or 15 cigarettes I smoked a day for so long had very gradually stepped up to 20-25 a day, and sometimes even more than that. During the last 5 years I'd experienced being made redundant from my job, the death of my mum, plus some health worries. There was always an excuse to keep on smoking because I was 'stressed', or 'under pressure', or 'depressed.' I honestly believed that cigarettes were helping me to calm down, cheer me up, see things more clearly, relax, get me moving - you name it and there was a valid reason (in my mind) to keep on smoking.
I didn't like being a smoker though. I didn't like the fact that I was the odd one out in my circle of friends, and I knew it wasn't doing my health any good either. I had smoked most of my adult life and had somehow avoided getting a cough. However, I realised some months ago that my chest was feeling congested and tight sometimes, that I didn't have much energy. And one day I stopped and worked out - honestly - just how much I was spending a month on my nicotine addiction.
