A Smoker No More

Welcome. This will not be fun.

Cigarettes smoked yesterday: 15

Cigarettes smoked today (so far): 6

So, turns out I’m poor.  

It’s not like that’s a shock to the system or anything… I’ve been poor for a while… I just hate realizing it.  Just one more stressor on top of a large pile of stressors (being poor, having to move, work problems…).

I did my best yesterday to not smoke (as much), and it went okay.  I’m still not quite in the mindset that I’m winding down here, so I’ve decided to start counting my cigarettes, and keeping track of where I was when I smoked them.  My biggest problem areas are as follows:

  1. Whilst Driving - I’m in real estate.  I drive A LOT, I have a relatively long commute, and against all advice to the contrary, I smoke in my car. Driving, typically, is boring and boredom is one of the #1 causes of me wanting to smoke.  Being stuck in traffic? Mind numbing, frustrating, irritating, sometimes dangerous. It’s nice to distract myself for 5-10 minutes with a little nicotine fix.  I seem, however, to be more prone to chain-smoking when I’m in the car.  I don’t know what it is, aside from the lack of SOMETHING TO DO. Paying attention BE DAMNED.
  2. After a Meal - This is just a habit.  There are very few cigarettes as pleasureful as one right after a big meal.  
  3. At the Office - It simply just gives me a reason to take a break (though I take far too many).

The other cigarettes are scattered throughout the day, usually beginning with one every morning after I get up and ending with one every hour or so I’m home at night. It seems that my whole day is just a series of short events that I have to get through so I can have my cigarettes.  I’m tired of living this way.

Hello, imaginary people.

So, here’s the deal.  I’m 25 years old, overweight, and I’ve been smoking for the last (just over) six years.  

My goal, this year, is to remedy this.  

Now… I know some of you imaginary people will read this and think to yourself, “Oh.. six WHOLE years?… Poooooor baaaaaaby.”  I’d like to kindly ask you to stop being so condescending.  Addicted is addicted is addicted.  

Here’s my problem.  I really, really enjoy smoking.  I remember the first time I sat down and enjoyed a cigarette, and I remember enjoying 2 more right after that one.  And believe me, they were wonderful.  As were the thousands that followed over the last few years.  I do, however, grow extremely weary of the following smoking-related side effects:

  1. Constantly smelling like smoke - Okay… so this one really doesn’t bother ME, per se, but APPARENTLY it bothers just about everyone else in the world, so it gets tiresome.
  2. Being poor - Yes… it is a very expensive habit when you smoke a lot.
  3. Getting winded - Now, full disclosure, I’m not exactly what you would call a “healthy” person, even without the smoking.  I’m probably 20-30 pounds overweight, so this may just be the combination of both problems.  It is, however, quite difficult to go to the gym when you want to die within the first 10 minutes of being there.  I’m not looking to be a body-builder, but being able to walk up a flight of stairs without taking a nap shortly thereafter would be nice.
  4. Other people - This goes out to all of you imaginary people who just can’t keep your opinions to yourself.  I KNOW that smoking is bad for me.  I KNOW that is a disgusting habit.  I KNOW that “in this day and age it’s hard to imagine why ANYONE would start smoking”.  Guess what.  Just about every smoker in the world knows this. Everyone has their reasons for starting. Deal with it. 
  5. Potential loss of life - Yeah.  That’s the big one, I guess.  Every time there’s even the SLIGHTEST thing wrong with me, I freak out and assume it’s cancer (yeah… fuck you WebMD).  This, in turn, is very stressful.  And… yeah… stress leads to smoking.  That’s a pretty nifty catch-22.  My mantra for the last few years has been “why live to be 100 years old if you didn’t do the things you wanted to do while you were alive?”  So, yeah, it’s funny to laugh about the fact that I’d trade 100 “boring” years for (let’s say) 75 “fun” ones, but upon reflection, I don’t know many elderly smokers who still appear to be having fun.  And, at the risk of sounding insensitive… oxygen tanks and neck holes are creepy.

Now, I’m sure there are many, many more reasons why I should want to quit smoking, but those really are the big ones.  The problem has always been the fact that I DON’T want to.  That, my imaginary friends, is addiction.  There are a lot of smokers out there (yours truly included) who constantly say “I know I have to quit but…” or “I know it’s a disgusting habit but…”, and the more I say these things, the more sad it makes me.  To be doing something as “disgusting” and “dangerous” as this, realizing it, and still not care; that’s when you start convincing yourself that there are reasons to smoke (see - Cognitive Dissonance).  I can make THAT list too, but I’d rather not… since frankly, I don’t want to talk myself out of this.

I suppose the point of this blog (ugh… I hate blogs) is to hold myself accountable. There is something cathartic about writing, and I don’t really get to do it enough.

Now, a plethora of ex-smokers have advised against quitting cold-turkey, and I know myself well enough to know that they are probably correct.  So, the goal right now, is to start replacing smoke-breaks with posts.  I’ll keep track of how many cigarettes I’ve smoked that day, and will make that number dwindle to 0. Currently, I smoke about a 3/4 pack (15 cigarettes) per day.  Sometimes more, sometimes fewer.  That is 15 cigarettes and roughly $50 per week; 420 cigarettes and $200 per month; and 5,040 and $2,400 per year.  Ouch.

GOALS:

  • By the end of January (1 week): Cut 5 cigarettes out of each day (10-15 per day)
  • By the end of February (1 month): Down to 1 pack per week (3 per day), start working out again
  • By the end of March (2 months): No more cigarettes, 20 pounds lost.

So that’s it.  The goals are not lofty, but I feel they are realistic.   

Welcome, imaginary friends, to my journey.