freedom from smoking is a great program, and i'm sure you could find people who would endorse nicotine anonymous or smokenders or hypnosis or what have you.

the only thing that matters is that you make the deliberate conscious choice not to smoke, even though you want to, every time you want to.

but there's no magic bullet; none of these things is going to do it for you.

there is no try.

here's my favorite quote from "the empire strikes back" (the 2nd of the original star wars movies): when yoda tells luke to lift his fighter out of the swamp with the power of the force and luke says, "i'll try...", yoda yells at him,

"No! Do, or do not. There is no 'try'!"

trying lots of different approaches or programs is like throwing all those things at your addiction, hoping one of them will stick; hoping one of them will be the magic bullet. see reality #1: you have to either quit, or admit that you're not going to; there's no middle ground.

when you say you're "trying" to quit, what you're really saying is you're not committed to quitting. you're just leaving yourself an excuse for when you relapse.

there is no hope.

"hoping" you'll stay quit is worthless. what works is making the deliberate, conscious choice not to feed your addiction.

what works is making that deliberate, conscious choice not to feed your addiction every time you feel an urge to do so. what works is making that choice every time you feel like smoking. it doesn't matter why you feel like smoking. it doesn't matter what's going wrong, doesn't matter what's going right. all that matters is that you make the deliberate conscious choice not to smoke, even though you want to, every time you want to.

in the early days, you'll make that choice often, and it'll be tough sometimes. after a while, you'll make it less often, and it'll get easier. do it long enough, and you'll start to feel "normal" as a non-smoker.

a final reality:

stressful events cannot send you back into slavery to your addiction. in fact, nothing outside of you can do that.

the only thing that can send you back into slavery to your addiction is your own deliberate, conscious choice to smoke. your own deliberate, conscious choice to feed your addiction.

addiction is tough: you have to starve it. because as soon as you feed it, guess what? it's back in control.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

some realities of quitting

because as far as the next crave is concerned, we're in the exact same place: the fork in the road. one way lies freedom, one way lies slavery. one way lies life, the other way, death.

i'd suggest that when the moment of decision comes, you choose life.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

88 months today (what is that in dog years?)

just being aware of what's going on for you, moment by moment, is great practice for when you quit; because when you quit, one of the easiest ways to relapse is to grab one of those "autopilot" cigarettes.

when you quit, the hardest cigarettes to let go of are the ones you smoke unconsciously; you're just not mentally/emotionally prepared to let them go. by the same token, the easiest ones to let go are the ones you smoke consciously, knowing the reason why.

i did this when i was getting ready to quit, and here's what happened: i'd be watching tv, and a commercial would come on, and i'd reach for a cig. i'd write down, "reaching for a cig because a commercial came on." as often as not i'd tell myself, "oh, ok; i'm doing this on autopilot. fuggedaboudit!" and i'd put the cigarette back in the pack.

it was the same thing with a lot of cigarettes i reached for. in fact, in about a day, i went from a pack a day smoker to smoking 5 or 6 a day. just the ones i "really wanted" (for whatever reason); all the rest were on autopilot.

just being aware of what's going on for you, moment by moment, is great practice for when you quit; because when you quit, one of the easiest ways to relapse is to grab one of those "autopilot" cigarettes. (you know; the one you grab when the commercial comes on, the one you smoke as soon as you finish eating, the one you light up when you get on the phone, the 26 you smoke without even being aware of them when you're having drinks...)

it's especially important in the early days of a quit to be aware; your biggest danger lies in the unguarded moment.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

how to get ready to quit smoking

grateful.

as my friend tom reilly used to say, "any day you wake up sucking air is a good day," and i've woken up sucking air — and only air — for the last 2,674 days. don't get me wrong; some of those days were a whole lot better than others:

since i quit smoking in november of 2001, i've gone through a divorce, lost my job, and watched my mom die of complications from congestive heart failure. but win, lose or draw, i've lived every day of the last 2,674 as a free man.

and for that, i'm grateful.

i've also been given the opportunity to help a lot of other people get free from their addictions in that time, and i'm grateful for that, too.

and whether i'm given another 2,674 days or 26,740, as long as i have the opportunity to pay it forward, and help more people get free and stay free, i'll be grateful.

(and if i can figure out how to make a few million bucks in the process, i'll be grateful for that, too... )

thanks for being a part of the journey.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

still grateful after all these years

accept that there are things you have no control over (like when it's going to get easier) and let them go; you can't nail jello to a tree.

hopes that "this should get easier by [insert date or time expectation here]" can turn into disappointment that it didn't get easier by [date or time] can turn into "oh, hell, what's the use?" really easily.

and that can lead to relapse in a heartbeat.

the one thing that you can count on when you quit is that the quit is going to be exactly what it is at any given moment.

instead of setting yourself up for disappointment with expectations, try to accept whatever you get, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and let it pass. because it will pass.

and don't forget to notice the good things that are happening for you, no matter how small (e.g., you can breathe easier, or you're not as short of breath, or food tastes better): concentrate on what you want, rather than what you don't want.

and, just as importantly, accept that there are things you have no control over (like when it's going to get easier) and let them go; you can't nail jello to a tree.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

shouldn’t it be easier by now?

and, if you're like me (and a lot of others), you didn't become a nicotine addict until you were a teenager (or very nearly so; i smoked my first cigarette at 10, and was probably addicted by the time i was 12, but who's counting?).

keep working at it long enough, one day you'll realize that you haven't even thought about smoking a cigarette for a couple of days.

so, for the first 12 years of your life or so, you never once thought, "god! i wish i had a cigarette!", or, "god! i wish i could quit!" for your first dozen years, you never had an uncontrollable urge to smoke, you never had to run out in the middle of the night to grab a pack of cigarettes, you never had to go stand outside in all kinds of weather to feed your addiction.

you were free. and it was nothing special. it was nothing special because it was just how you were; you had no concept of being a slave to an addiction, so there was nothing to compare your freedom to. and it was nothing special because you didn't have to work at it; it was handed to you on a silver platter. you took it for granted.

but then, you taught yourself how to be a smoker, and it was something special. it was something special because it was new and different, because it was forbidden, because it was something you had to work at...

you had to force yourself to get past that initial revulsion your body felt (remember those first few cigarettes? how you coughed and choked and maybe felt a little sick and thought to yourself, "how can adults like this?").

you had to sneak around for the first few years, practicing becoming a smoker somewhere out of sight because mom and dad would kill you if they ever caught you smoking (even though they were smokers themselves).

and, in time, sucking in the thousand and one cancer-causing substances in cigarette smoke every time you took a hit became "normal" for you. because by now, you were addicted to nicotine, and you were in serious denial about the risks; like all addicts...

and it was nothing special; it was just how you were. you didn't have to work at it any more.

but there was a big difference: this time, you had something to compare it to.

there was a part of you that remembered being free; that remembered not having those uncontrollable urges; that remembered not having to run out in the middle of the night to get your fix; that remembered not having to stand outside in all kinds of weather, feeling like a social outcast, because you had to feed your addiction.

and you wanted that freedom back. it was something special. it was something special because you didn't have it any more, and you knew you'd have to work to get it back...

and you will have to work to get it back: you'll have to retrain your body how to deal with not being poisoned any more; you'll have to retrain your mind how not to respond to those urges; you'll have to train yourself how to handle your emotions without your drug of choice there to mediate them.

and if you keep working at it long enough, one day you'll realize that you haven't even thought about smoking a cigarette for a couple of days. down the road, you'll realize that you haven't thought about having a smoke for a couple of months. keep going, and you'll hit the point where you realize you haven't had the urge to smoke a cigarette in years...

keep going long enough, and you'll realize that, once again, being free is nothing special. it'll just be how you are. you won't have to work at it any more.

the big difference this time will be that, when you compare where you're at to where you've been, you'll never want to go back to being a slave to your addiction.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

quitting smoking: nothing special

in effect, you're in a constant state of hyperventilation. you're high on oxygen. you feel a little dizzy. a bit lightheaded. somewhat scatter-brained.

for instance, one of the deadliest poisons known to man is carbon monoxide, and cigarette smoke is loaded with it. when you inhale cigarette smoke, the carbon monoxide takes up part of the space in your bloodstream that would normally be used to carry oxygen.

your body — being the amazingly adaptable machine it is — reacts to this situation by producing more red blood cells (since the carbon monoxide is taking up space needed to transport oxygen, and oxygen is carried by red blood cells, you need more red blood cells to carry a proper level of oxygen along with the carbon monoxide).

when you stop smoking, the level of carbon monoxide in your blood drops to almost nothing very quickly, but your body is still producing all those extra red blood cells, so now you're getting a lot more oxygen than you strictly need.

in effect, you're in a constant state of hyperventilation. you're high on oxygen. you feel a little dizzy. a bit lightheaded. somewhat scatter-brained.

eventually, your body will realize that you're not sucking in elevated levels of carbon monoxide any more, and it'll stop producing all those extra red blood cells, and you'll start to feel normal again.

it just takes a little time.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

those pesky withdrawal symptoms

first of all, you have to accept that craves are a normal part of recovery, and that, if you're ever going to recover, you're going to have them.

what makes the stress level build like that is resistance; the more you fight the craves, the more they'll fight back. if you don't resist them, they can't use that energy against you.

But how do I not resist them?

first of all, you have to accept that craves are a normal part of recovery, and that, if you're ever going to recover, you're going to have them.

then, when you feel a crave, acknowledge it: say to yourself, "oh. having a crave." no big deal: say it as if you'd just looked in the mirror and realized that the person looking back at you is you.

next, realize that you're free to feed this crave any time you want; all it takes is a quick trip to the convenience store.

now, remind yourself that this crave, like all the others, will go away — all by itself — whether you feed it or not.

finally, make your choice:

either

choose not to feed the crave, accepting that you may have to put up with a little momentary discomfort in order to get a whole list of long-term benefits (it really helps to have a list of benefits to read at this point; if you don't have one, it's a great time to start one),

~ or ~

choose to feed the crave, knowing that you'll only be getting a momentary reprieve from that discomfort for the next half-hour or so (until you need another fix), and that by doing so, you're inviting a whole list of long-term problems into your life.

either way, whatever choice you make, act on it and get on with your life. there's no need to stress at this point; you've made your choice, for better or worse. it's in the past; you can't change it.

of course, once you've made your choice, you have to live with it.

that's why i suggest you choose life.

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

dealing with stress

addicts don't count the cost; in fact, that's one of the most obvious things that marks someone as an addict.

the number of business owners who, in the wake of the federal government raising cigarette taxes and big tobacco (specifically RJ Reynolds) raising wholesale prices, worry that their businesses will be hurt because their customers won't be able to afford cigarettes any more, so they'll stop smoking.

which is, of course, nonsense: a practicing addict doesn't ask how much the substance to which they're addicted costs; it doesn't really matter.

and if the business owners who expressed these worries were uniformly non-smokers, i wouldn't find it so striking; i wouldn't expect non-addicts to understand the dynamics of addiction, one of which is, "price is no object".

but i do find it striking that business owners who are also smokers would have any such fear; after all, i'd think they would understand that their smoking customers aren't going to quit because cigarettes cost too much: they may bitch about it, but they'll pony up, just like the store owners themselves will.

but then, one of the things that practicing addicts are very good at is denial...

when i started smoking, cigarettes cost around 33 cents a pack. of course, the price rose steadily, and i remember swearing that i'd quit if the price ever went over 50 cents. well, the price went over 50 cents around 1972 and i continued to smoke. i also remember swearing that i'd quit if the price ever went over a dollar. lo and behold, the price went over a dollar and i continued to smoke. i also remember swearing i'd quit if the price ever went over a buck and a half, which of course it did, and yeah, you guessed it: i continued to smoke. (sensing a pattern here?)

when i finally quit for good at the end of 2001, a pack of name-brand cigarettes was running around $5.00, and i was still ponying up. in fact, if i hadn't been diagnosed with emphysema and had a doctor who made it real clear how horrifying it would be to die by suffocation in a few years' time if i didn't quit smoking before the emphysema got worse, i'd be paying $7.50 a pack now.

i'd be bitching about it, bit i'd still be paying it.

because addicts don't count the cost. that's one of the most obvious things that marks someone as an addict; in spite of the cost, the health consequences, the inconvenience (or even the legality, depending on what they're addicted to), an addict will continue to feed their addiction until they choose to stop, or until it kills them.

i read an interview with one tobacco store owner who said that, for her customers, with the economy the way it is, and the tax increases, and the price increases, "It could come down to do [they] buy a pack of cigarettes, or do [they] buy a loaf of bread?"

if that's what it comes down to, i guess i'd rather own the tobacco store than the bakery...

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

i’ll stop smoking when…

getting free from addiction isn't easy, but it is simple, and it starts with accepting responsibility for the choices you make.

"i fell off the wagon!"

maybe you've even used it yourself; i know i have.

one of the truest indicators of a recovering addict's likelihood of success is the degree to which said addict realizes what a load of crap this statement is: addicts don't "fall off the wagon".

we jump.

"falling off the wagon" implies that there was some kind of unfortunate, unavoidable accident, and nothing could be further from the truth: there's nothing accidental about deliberate, conscious choice.

because if you choose not to feed your addiction any more, and then one day you find yourself sucking on a lit cigarette, that was no "accident": you chose to pick up that cigarette, you chose to apply flame to the far end, and you chose to suck.

you made those choices. deliberately and consciously. and if you won't accept responsibility for making those choices, you're just gonna keep shooting yourself in the foot.

getting free from addiction isn't easy, but it is simple, and it starts with accepting responsibility for the choices you make.

choose life!

this content from tales from the quit
follow the tales on twitter

falling off the wagon