First, I am not an alcoholic. I enjoy drinking way too much for that!
All joking aside, alcohol has never been the problem. I can take it or leave it, and have left it many more times than not.
My problem is twofold: tar and nicotine. I have smoked more years than I am comfortable admitting. And I have, for the most part, enjoyed it. Immensely. Not just the rush, the energy, the 1950's "how cool is this" -ness of the activity, but the comfort and solace.
Many years ago, I discovered that this one habit would always be there to comfort me. Perhaps one day I'll talk about why that is so important...probably not. In any case, when I was fairly or unfairly punished for something I did or did not do, smoking was there for me. It dulled the pain, increased the will to continue on, and sometimes, just showed that I couldn't be kept down. I could always go back, find a cigarette, and find solace.
Cigarettes were also my party buds. If the party lulled, or if I found myself without someone to talk to, (first world ambivert problems) I could hang out with the cigarettes. They were always there, demanded nothing, and provided dependable company.
I am in remarkably good physical condition for someone who has smoked longer than he's been an adult. I have the usual symptoms, but can still do, physically, anything I want to do. But, it has become a hindrance, socially, and in some ways, physically.
Do to a random meeting with a new friend, and (very) short term immersion into a culture foreign to my own, (this is a good thing) I realized that it was time to close the chapter on this habit. Not really being a quitter by nature, and being a frugal German, I finished all of the cigarettes that I had purchased, and decided that I would revel in the money I saved, the lack of the hack, and whatever else might come my way as a result.
I actually smoked the last one on Sunday morning, March 8. Things got interesting. I used a cigar or two that happened to be lying around in order to get over the initial fidgets. Did you know that the tactile sensation of having a cigarette in one's hand is what trips up a lot of quitters? In any case, once I decided cigarettes were finished, the cigars held little allure. I smoked one, part of a second one, then just didn't smoke those either.
Everything was fine until I returned to Fort Wayne. Well, that's a lie. I went through the DT's. I didn't get the incredible munchies, and my caffeine intake went down. (Go look up the interaction between nicotine and caffeine. Fascinating stuff. (Back to the story) I returned to Ft. Wayne, to deal with the mess that was left behind post-divorce and post-children leaving the nest. I realized that for all the people I know in the Fort, I don't "know" that many folks. And finding ones that can hold my hand as I walk through this...mess, well, anyway, moving on again.
In short, I made it four days and four hours. Everything crashed down on me, I caved. And that first cigarette: Holy Crap! I was 4 beers buzzed in two minutes! Of course the second one wasn't as bad, and so on.
I feel bad. I feel like a failure. But it's a new day. And I am out of cigarettes again. And it begins again. My mantra during the bad times, the crushing feeling that I "needed" a cigarette was "I really want a cigarette, but I don't smoke." I am taking it up again. And there will be a longer period before I return to the Fort, and have to address the ghosts and ghouls that await me there. And, I guess I'll just see how far I go this time.
If you are of a mind to, please keep me in your prayers. Or, get in touch with me. Or both. Company is good, especially if it's good company.
