Several years ago, my wife underwent her scheduled physical checkup, and thankfully was in good health, but her doctor, based on the x-rays he took, inquired as to how long she had been smoking. The horrible thing is -- she never smoked; she just lived with an inconsiderate man who didn’t see anything wrong with smoking inside his “castle,” wife and kids notwithstanding. That same man watched his father die from cancer and promised his dad that he would quit smoking. In typical junkie fashion though, he neglected to tell his father exactly when that would happen.
Fast-forward five years...
The great state of Texas announced an extra $1 tax on every pack of cigarettes sold beginning January 1, 2007. On December 31, 2006, I bought three packs of cigarettes and informed myself that when they were gone, I was going to cease my 34-year addiction. This wasn’t a financial decision, as I could certainly afford the extra buck. But I coupled the price hike with considerations of my health, my family and the fact that smokers were becoming more ostracized everyday, and decided to quit cold turkey.So on January 3, 2007, at 6:05 p.m., I stubbed out my last cigarette and with no fanfare of any sort, began methodically washing ashtrays and spraying air freshener all over the house. I’m ashamed to report that 20+ years of smoking in a house can’t be swept away that simply. Over the ensuing months, we had our carpets professionally cleaned, washed all the curtains, deep-cleaned the furniture, and painted most of the walls. Yet there are still times when I walk into the computer room and catch the unmistakable stale stench of old smoke and ash. I imagine that only time will remove all vestiges of my previous life, but my wife and kids assure me the house smells 100-percent better than it used to, so I take some comfort in that.
The early days of my quit were by far the most difficult.
Conquering the physical dependence on nicotine is not easy (he said, preaching to the choir). Armed with nothing more than ice water and an unshakable resolve, I detoxed alone, not even informing friends and family (other than my wife), that I had quit smoking. I wanted to see how long it took others to realize that I was no longer defined, even in part, by an addiction.Curiously, it was my smoking friends who never even noticed I had quit until my wife made mention of it one evening when we were visiting. They have since treated me differently, almost keeping me at arm’s length and excluding me from certain gatherings, and that hurt at first. However, I now realize this avoidance stems primarily from their inability to quit smoking themselves, and my presence manifests a certain amount of shame and embarrassment in them. I don’t lecture, I don’t wave at smoke if it wafts in my direction. I don’t place any value judgments on them at all. Yet it is obvious that they feel uncomfortable smoking around me. My quit is far too valuable to me to worry excessively about this, but I do find it worth noting. When they are finally ready for their own quit, I will be their biggest champion and cheerleader.
Now for the good stuff.
On the second day of my quit, through fate, serendipity or just plain old good luck, I stumbled upon the About.com Smoking Cessation forum. Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop -- and I read everything. I read the year and more milestones, the new member stories, everything in red, and general chat. I read it all. It was extremely reassuring to know that I wasn’t doing this alone.Several of the forum angels (you know who you are and God bless you) were always quick to welcome the newbies, cheer on the not-so-newbies, and just plain “be there” for whoever needed a virtual hug or a bit of a pep talk. I was able to always find what I needed, be it an assurance that dreams about smoking are normal, to the confirmation that, yes, your fingernails do indeed grow faster when you quit smoking. I spent hour upon hour lurking in the forums, posting sometimes, but gaining positive reinforcement even when it wasn’t specifically directed to me.
