Brain Switches

It's happening. It's really happening, the 'switch over'.

I wasn't sure it was possible, I was really hoping it was, but there was always a part of me that wondered if it were true. You see, I've heard some people say, after three years or ten, that they still miss it. Still crave it. Though many, many more were nearly prostrate with gratitude or reviled by even a wisp of the toxic streams, there was a part of me who leant towards an understanding of the former. I was after all, different, more addicted somehow. Even though I mentally understood this lethal addiction, and emotionally fought it, that part of me that thought I would really be repulsed by it some day, was still sort of sitting on the fence. But last week it happened. More than once.

These thoughts came on the heels of a rather rough few day, which I am discovering seems to be the rule. I had just come through a bit of a 'lull' in cravings, but now I seemed to be having some pretty wayward thoughts. I have heard of this 'lull' period, where you nearly forget the real struggle of the first couple of weeks, and start to romanticize smoking again.

On the way home from work, I pass by a charming little Mediterranean cafe with windows large enough to see gathered groups of friends sitting round tables. Atop these tables are large hookah pipes, with colorful glass bases and brightly patterned hoses. One can add a mixture of fruit essence and a kind of tobacco that I'd heard didn't contain nicotine. I looked longingly at the group of friends laughing and gesticulating, sharing this legal bong. Surely, one wee non-toxic puff couldn't hurt...could it? Perhaps I'd invite some friends for dinner on the weekend, it looked like so much fun.

The thoughts crept in fairly innocuously, or so I thought. It's funny how if you let the first one slip by, the second one becomes stronger, more persistent. While one very large part of me kept affirming my gratitude at having come this far and determination at continuing, another part of my brain was sneakily trying to find some sort of loop hole.

Then it happened.

I have a fair commute to work every day, including an accumulated twenty to thirty minute walk. On the way there, the crowd from the train station to the buildings moves quickly and en masse. It was a beautiful fall day, I thought, as I crunched through sunset colored fallen leaves, each one bright and brilliant, as if lit from within. The air was filled with the scent of crab apples and sharp briskness. I don't even like apple cider, but autumn always made me feel as though I did. I took a deep, beautiful breath...and nearly choked.

There it was, that unmistakable stealthy and putrid odor. It was supremely offensive, it obliterated the very life of the air, my eyes searched angrily for the offending substance. I found it between the fingers of a student, walking amoungst the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the people behind her who were dodging to the left and right of her wake, coughing and sputtering and waving their hands in front of their faces. I myself ran past her so I wouldn't have to inhale her emittences. I found this fairly ironic and comical considering a few months ago, I probably would have been glued to her backside, lips puckered, trying to catch an errant whiff. Now I just felt kind of miffed. It was such a gorgeous fresh day, why ruin it?

Not once did I feel even the slightest bit of envy, in fact - I felt pity for this girl whom so many people seemed to find it easy to pass. Poor girl I thought, I hope she quits soon. I was quite amazed to genuinely feel revulsed, for even though I had had that first epiphany in Fort Mac, there had still been an element of envy. It was a joyous occasion, and I celebrated it inwardly, I was coming through. Finally.

Do I believe I will ever be fully well, 'switched'? I'm not sure. But I feel that it is possible more now than ever before, and that really IS a switch. As for the hookah place, no, I don't think so. Inhaling anything into my lungs seems rather foolish right now, and who knows what it could lead to. Besides, I'm becoming rather used to breathing in fresh, clean air deeply and gratefully. There are lots of other places with big, large windows.