I’ve quit smoking six months ago and so far I’ve not murdered anyone…
It’s funny actually, because I know full well that I’m still addicted to nicotine and probably always will be. The neurons never forget the fix it seems. So what’s changed then? The impulse to drag on a roll-up is still there, its just that i no longer obey the impulse. To have a cigarette now would render my efforts useless.
And it’s odd I don’t miss the cigs, it didn’t make me feel cool, look attractive or do things I wouldn’t have otherwise done. Having said that I miss meeting people around the back the office / pub / playboy club… ahem, to collectively pollute our lungs. It was a supposed de-stressor and yet at the same time it didn’t satisfy me at all.
Why did I do it in the first place? Call it anything you like; a vice, a lack of experience, idiocy and even self-harm but it wasn’t so much a conscious decision rather my habit grew out of having something to do with my hands. I seem to need to keep my hands busy doing something… yes yes I know the old adage “the devils makes work…for idle hands”
Of course painting and poetry helps, it always has done for me.
But a lot can happen in six months and my hidden motivation to destroy my own health is behind me I hope. I’m not sorry about it, I’m not beating myself up over my lack of conviction. I carry a packet of cigarettes in my bag. I know its there, in arms reach when the urge arises. I know I can light up anytime I chose too. I also know I have a somewhat dependent and addictive personality. I also know I’d crave for any drug if I told myself that resolves stress. But it doesn’t. All the above serves to remind me on why I’ve quit.
I encourage anyone to think about what they could do without, or less of, in six months time. Maybe it’s cigarettes, maybe its not. Whether it seems plausible, possible or insurmountable the difference is you.