Quitting Smoking

For a little while now (and for the first time in the 15 years I've been smoking) I've wanted to quit smoking.  I began by researching how others have quit, creating lists of alternative activities, and planning a quit plan.  Yes, I just said I was planning to plan...and that's exactly what I was doing...planning to plan to quit.  I never could make the plan or set a quit date because I was scared:  I was scared of not being able to handle the stresses of work, money, and parenting.  I was scared of being a bitch.  I was scared of the anxiety.  Honestly, I was scared of pretty much everything because I would no longer have my nicotine-filled, burning crutch...


After a long period of increasing dissatisfaction with my habit coupled with a paralysing fear of "life without cigarettes," I found myself out of cigarettes with no money budgeted to buy more for two and a half weeks. In retrospect, this was exactly what I needed because I would have never been able to quit if my crutch was in the closet, so to speak.  At the time, though, I freaked out.  I scrounged through old DVDs to sell and bought myself 2 "last packs." I began to cut back, hoping to make those last two packs last as long as I could.  They lasted for four agonizing days of increasing anxiety and fear of the cold-turkey moment.  The anticipatory fear was almost as bad as the withdrawal would be.

As I smoked the last of my cigarettes, I dug out my old e-cigarette with one filter left, thinking cold turkey wasn't going to work for me. Knowing I had only one filter left, I was judicious in my use of the e-cig, using it only to the equivalent of 1-2 cigarettes per day.  This lasted three days - three days in which you'd think I had been addicted to a much harder drug...

I was getting chills and goosebumps.  My head and face was getting flushed with every craving. I hated everything.  I had no patience for my family or myself.  I couldn't think straight. I was irrational. I felt...horrible.

By the fourth day, I began to feel the fog lifting.  At the same time, I was also starting to feel a little more confidence in my ability to make it through the process of quitting - a confidence gained by repeating to myself that the worst was over and, if I survived the last few days, I could get through all the rest.

Then I decided to go full-cold-turkey: no smoke-free nicotine aids.

Now, this is by no means the best way for everyone to quit, but it was necessary for me.  You see, the anxiety from the nicotine withdrawal was almost too much for me to handle those first three days. I realized that continuing to allow myself nicotine, even in small doses, would only prolong the emotional symptoms of my withdrawal and I wanted nothing more than to detox as quickly as possible and be done with it.

So I did it.  I went cold-turkey.  I hid my e-cigarette out of sight (quitting the e-cig wasn't all that hard, anyway, because I never did find it particularly satisfying).  I dug out my list of alternative activities, and I pushed through.  

My mantra was right, the worst is over - every day is just a little easier than the last. Better yet, the difficulty of it all helps me stay true to the path because I sure as heck don't ever want to go through that again!  

Update: As I get ready to publish this post, I am officially two weeks nicotine-free.  Statistically, this is the point at which my body is 100% free of its dependence on the chemical!  I began writing this post a week into my journey and have decided to complete and publish the post today as a celebration of my nicotine independence day.