DAY ONE: Going smokeless

Okay, it's been more than 10 years since the last time I knew what it was like to not be a smoker. A lot has changed since then. Changing tastes, changing times, changing attitudes, etc. One thing that hasn't changed was my need to go by the gas station and pick up a couple of packs of Marlboro Lights in a box. I would buy them two or three at a time and be back to buy more a couple of days later.

I would say that I was probably a pack-a-day smoker. Sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less. Friends smoked, bosses smoked, some of the coolest guys in Hollywood smoked, so did I. Never really thought much about it.

For the most part, this entire time, I thought of myself as a 'non-smoker.' Not sure why, but I think it had something to do with not everyone who knew me knew I smoked. This would include my parents. To this day, my father still doesn't know, or at least if he does, he hasn't mentioned he knows to me. It was never that I was afraid of telling them, I just didn't want them to worry about me more than they already did. Okay, and I was a little afraid to tell them as well. Not sure why. I'm a grown man, what are they going to do, ground me? Regardless, never mentioned it to them.

So, here I am. Instead of smoking, I'm writing this post and hopefully this blog to chronicle my attempt at smoking sobriety. I've had some health issues in the last couple of years and decided I was sick and fucking tired of smoking.

Tired of it, but couldn't force myself to stop it.

Three weeks ago, I had decided enough was enough. I smoked my last cigarette and that was it. That lasted until I got to work. Then the routine started to kick in. After awhile, I was literally panicking because I didn't have a cigarette. I ended up going to the gas station around the corner and bought a pack. I was thoroughly disgusted with myself.

I had a doctor's appointment a couple of days later and I told myself this was it. I was going to tell him 1.) I smoke (yeah, like my family, he didn't know) and 2.) I was honestly ready to quit. I sit in room, waiting on him to come in, thinking that I'm going to back out. I'm not going to do it. He comes in and we talk about what's going on, shoot the breeze, that sort of thing. Finally, towards the end, he asks me if there's anything else.

"Doc, I'm a smoker and I really want to be non-smoker."

The man didn't break a sweat. He told me there was a new drug out called Chantix and told me what it did that was better than what was out there now. I would take it for several weeks (usually the average time is about 12 weeks) and the success rate is pretty good for people who take it that actually want to quit. He told me I would still smoke for awhile because it'd take a while for the medicine to get built up in me, but at some point, cigarettes wouldn't seem so important to me.

Flash forward about two weeks in. When I first started taking the medicine, I swear it felt like I was smoking more ... like I had this urge that I really HAD to smoke. About a week and a half into the treatment, I started to feel indifferent towards cigarettes. Today, I smoked my last cigarette when I woke up around noon (I work a late shift, thank you) and haven't really had a desire to smoke once since.

Now, understand, it feels like there's a battle being waged in my head right now between the part of my brain that's telling, "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING??? GO SMOKE! GO SMOKE NOW!!! DO IT!!!" and the bigger part that's saying, "Nah, we're cool. We don't need to smoke. Just relax, man, and everything will be all right." So I feel like I've got a lot of pent-up energy and extra time on my hands now. Go figure.

Today is July 27, 2007. I smoked my last cigarette around noon on July 26, 2007. Here's to hoping it'll be my last.