As we get older, we move beyond the things of our youth. By choice, station, circumstance or interest, things that captivated us at one age no longer hold the same court over us later in life. Sometimes it can be something as simple as having a shorter haircut, or wearing a narrower cuff, and other times it can be something as drastic as a complete lifestyle change that molds you into almost a completely different person. Usually, the changes for most of us fall somewhere in between. Things like making sure you have a steady income and reliable transportation supersede having the fridge stocked with the cheapest beer available and partying until the break of dawn. Not that either of these things are bad, this is certainly not a judgment call on how anyone lives their lives. But typically, all night parties and reckless living are staples of youth, and we tend to put those things on the shelf in our memories as we get older. Sure, every once in a while we’ll get the urge to play with them, pull them down and dust them off, and see if we remember how it goes. Sometimes, they are still fun and we have a good time. Usually afterwards we realize that we cannot keep doing them as often as we used to, when we were younger and had unlimited energy, no fear and felt no pain. But they are nice once in a while and still fun. As we get older, we take them down less and less, until one day they just stay on the shelf, to be looked upon fondly as a reminder of a different time in our lives.

With each year that passes, more things from youth are put on this shelf, left to collect dust like an old trophy, the shine worn off in spots as the details of the victory become faded. They are moved there to make room for new interests, fascinations and responsibilities that come up in life. Paths we choose require different interests and responsibilities, and sometimes these push out older ones and relegate them to the shelf. Other times, these items are just past their time, and no longer important or fun to us. And other times, they are just stupid things we picked up, and should have been put on the shelf long ago, but we kept them around for all the wrong reasons, and now realize it is well past time to hang them up and move on.

Of all the changes that life has thrown at me, it is now time to put another impetuous item of youth on the shelf. And this one, I do not want to take down and give a whirl ever again. Since I was 20, I have smoked cigarettes. And since I was 22, minus a few brief stints here and there, it has been a regular habit. Not one I am proud of, but one I must be honest about if I am to give myself the proper shot at kicking this habit and finally proudly hoisting the banner of ex-smoker. Like many dumb things of youth, it started innocently enough. It was a way to stage a small sort of rebellion against the man, showing the world that I was the rebellious youth who didn’t care about anything, conjuring the images of James Dean and Marlon Brando, former icons of rebellious youth, and Steve McQueen, an icon of cool. Of course, all these men are dead, McQueen far younger than he should have been due to lung cancer. When you are young, you must also be stupid. It goes with the territory.

But at the time thoughts of cancer, heart disease, poor circulation, limited lung capacity and all the other great things that go with smoking were the farthest thing from any of our minds. It was a fun thing to do. You went out to a party or to a bar; you would pick up a pack on the way, no big deal. That night, in the midst of the drinking and carousing and merry making, you would have a butt or two or three, and share them with your crowd. It was a great social thing. You need to break away, go for a smoke break. You want to get someone alone for some one on one, say, hey, let’s go have a drag. No big deal. I have had many a great conversation with a Rogue’s Gallery of people just by going out and having a smoke. It is a very social thing, in the right circles. I know that sounds odd, especially since it is such an anti social behavior, but it can be a very social thing. Plus, at the time, smoking and drinking always seemed to go hand in hand. Perhaps that comes from too many old movies, or watching too many adults partake in similar activities. For me, they just seemed right together, like peanut butter and jelly or turkey and Thanksgiving. Once again, it sounds quite stupid, but it made sense. Anyone who has ever been a regular smoker I am sure can easily relate.

But the tendrils of addiction are seductive, and subtle. They slowly wrap themselves around you, ensnaring you while you do not even realize it. Looking back, it was amazing how quickly and easily I slipped into their grasp. It was all innocent at first, like I said; grab a pack on the way out to a good time, no big deal. But then, every once in a while, you’d get a pack a little earlier, maybe in the afternoon before the party. Partake in one, just to put you in the right mood for the festivities to come. Association has set in. You have a good time at the party, you smoke at the party, and therefore smoking equals a good time. The slope has suddenly become steeper, and much more slippery. Perhaps the next day, if you have not kicked the pack, you have one; just to unwind and reminisce of the good times had the night before, you know, before you toss the remainders. The slope is a little steeper, and a little more slippery. You are hanging out with some friends, someone fires up and you think what the hell, I am hanging with my buds, we all are digging it and it’s all good. The slope becomes that much steeper, and the slipperiness increases that much more. You buy a pack even earlier before the party, just to get yourself in the right frame of mind. And a little earlier. And a little earlier. And a little earlier. Not a big deal, hey, they are just for the party. But by this time, there is no party in the near future, and no one is planning on hitting the bar scene for days on end. There is no real reason to justify the purchase other than you want them, and you need them. But its still no big deal, its just goofing around and having a good time, everyone puffs a few from time to time. You tell yourself that, and the tendrils wrap around you more. I just do it for fun; it really is not a problem. The tendrils start to get a little tighter. I can quit anytime I want, it is nothing but a casual thing for me. And by the time you get to this rationalization, you are encased head to toe by the ever constricting tendrils of addiction. But, at this point, you have no idea how deep in you really are.

I myself had no real idea how bad I was by the time I made this rationalization to myself. I had fully convinced myself that it was nothing more than a casual thing, even though by this point, around 23 years of age, I had started buying packs on a regular basis. I kept hiding it from my family; never having one around them, even my girlfriend at the time, always making sure I had my last one the day before I would see her. That shrank to the morning before, and then noon before, and then a few hours before, and then an hour before, until finally, as long as I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth really well and had some gum, no one would be the wiser and I could smoke with impunity. Even after all of these rationalizations, I still believed it was a casual habit and I could quit anytime I wanted. I finally realized I might have a problem when I went away for a weekend trip, and could not keep from sneaking a couple of smokes the entire three days. And even with this dawning realization, I hesitated in any action to stem the tide.

About this time, my brother was involved in a horrible car accident. It was a tough time, and a perfect excuse to keep smoking. This was also the time when I first acknowledged my smoking with my parents. They, of course, already knew. My dad was a smoker at the time, and we used the time to bond over cigarettes. Not the best bonding tool, but I will not regret the experience. After I was past this hurdle, it seemed as though the slope disappeared completely and I was in nothing more than total freefall into addiction. Cigarettes had me firmly in their grasp, and I was more than happy to stay.

It’s funny how habits tend to say around. We all do things out of habit. The way we walk, dress, decorate and arrange our living spaces even how and what we eat are all habits. Some are good, and some bad, but we keep them because we know them. They are comforting and remind us of something good, or perhaps allow us to block out something bad. By this time, I had moved on, having graduated from college and starting, rather unsuccessfully, to find my way in the world. There were no parties or bar scenes to really hit, and many of my friends had scattered to other places, some home to figure out the next step, some very far away. A few had remained, but not many, and those that had either never enjoyed smoking or had moved on. There was no good excuse to continue to smoke, and yet I did. I still clung on to the habit grown out of a permissive time and attitude and one I associated with many good times. A habit that should have been nipped long ago in the bud, but one I had allowed to grow into something that became a regular, and comforting, part of my life. I could not just abandon it, it was part of me and at the time, I liked that.

I also liked that it was still rebellious. As the decade progressed, the vilification of smoking, and anyone who partook, had grown by leaps and bounds. Smokers began to be viewed as the scum of society, nothing better than wharf rats that should be exterminated for daring to choose such a filthy habit. It helped me keep smoking, knowing I was such a burr under so many saddles, me being a fairly well educated youth but still continuing a habit widely known for its dangers.

Even today, knowing what I know and trying hard to break myself of the habit, I still feel that if someone chooses to smoke, it is their business. It bothers me that other people feel the need to push their noses into other peoples’ business so much, they feel it is their right to control how they live their lives. By now, we all are aware of the dangers of smoking. It is dangerous, stupid and will shorten your life span. It is a drain on medical resources, pollutes the air and makes you smell like smoke. You never notice it, but everyone else around you will. Every time I thought I was fooling someone, I never was. The smell hangs on you like a beacon. A sandwich board saying hey I smoke would be less subtle. It is not a good thing. But if you feel the need, you should be allowed to do it, and not be treated like an animal for doing it. We all do things that bug someone else, but they let it pass because that is what we want to do, and we give them the same quarter. People burping with impunity bugs me, but I have friends who find a good release by doing it. And who am I to say anything? They tolerate my smoking, I can tolerate their burping. It is a trade off we make with friendships. Everyone has annoying habits, but if you like the person, you look past them and let them live their lives. Even with me no longer smoking, I’ll still ignore the burping, after all, sometimes it is as funny as all get out. I have seen a million other habits people have that drive me up the wall, but I do not hold that against them, or shun them because of it. It is their choice, and they have every right to make it, whether I feel it is right or wrong. That is one of the cornerstones of our society, but so many busy bodies are too busy trying to run the lives of others, while rather unsuccessfully running their own, to open their eyes and see this point.

And by this point, there is no smoking allowed in most places. Bars, airports, airplanes, trains, public buildings, government buildings, office buildings, places of employment and even outdoor public areas have all been marked as no smoking areas in most places. If you want to have a cigarette, you have to find a secret path that leads you deep within the bowels of the earth where you will find a heavily guarded 8x10 room where secret police monitor your activity closely as you just try to enjoy a butt. You think I am joking, but we are not far from that. If we are truly free, we should be allowed to make our own choices, right or wrong, and not have them made for us. This is the exact opposite of how many of those do gooder anti smoking groups seem to think. They have their ad campaigns and their commercials, all with the message of spreading the truth about the dangers of smoking and the evils of the tobacco industry. Funny, though, how a lot of their truth is not based on actual fact. If you doubt, please find on DVD the episode of Penn and Teller’s Bullshit where they delve into second hand smoke. It was quite the eye opener for me. And this was made by two gentlemen who hate smoking, yet they felt the need to present the real facts, and not those presented by a biased group looking to win favor and support for their own desires. I am certainly not condoning smoking, nor would I ever encourage it. It is a terrible habit that is beyond difficult to kick. But this is about more than smoking, it is about the right to live your life as you see fit, without others interfering with it. Also, you will not see me defending the tobacco industry, but if we are really a capitalist society, then they have as much a right to produce and sell their product as say, the alcohol industry, or, as a better comparison, the fast food industry. Take a look at that the fast food industry for a while, dig a little dirt, watch Super Size Me and read Fast Food Nation, and see if you really think it is better to have Ronald McDonald around kids than Joe Camel. To me, they are one in the same. I managed to beat down Ronald, now I am after Joe.

As time continued to move by, I moved on, trying new locations and places, moving far away from my roots and things I had known for most of my life. Despite of all these changes, I still had my old friend with me, always there to provide comfort. I reconnected with many old friends, old smoking friends as well. But all of them had moved on, looking upon that as something that they once did, but it no longer held sway over them as it did me. Never was I judged by my old mates for still continuing such a moronic habit. Perhaps that was a bad thing, or a good thing. I always worked to smoke less around them or not at all if I could. I made many new friends, most of which did not smoke, unless prompted by the temptress alcohol, and even then many times they were able to resist cigarettes and her wily charms. But on occasion it gave me yet another excuse to continue. I had friends again at the occasional get together that would burn one down with me. I would never blame them, or think of them as enablers. If anything, I was the enabler, encouraging bad behavior on their part just by the mere presence of me and my cigarettes. Rationalization is the key to addiction, and my key ring was jingling full.

But as I got older, I also started to feel more of the effects of smoking. Suddenly, a night of drinking with a pack affected me the next day. I started to get hangovers, something that had never happened before. I would find myself tired more often, and come home after work completely drained. I chalked it up to my bad dietary habits, with a kicker of maybe the smokes played a small part. I took on the goal of changing those habits, and I worked, and continue to work, very hard to eat much healthier and get more movement into my body. It worked wonders. I felt much better, looked much better, and felt good that I was doing something to help prolong my life. But then I noticed new aches and pains, weird stuff in places I never felt before. This could not be from bad diet or too much weight; this could only be one thing, cigarettes. Now, finally, I started to plant seeds of quitting, but parts of me still resisted, and heavily. I was wrapped up in it so deep now, it was much harder than I ever imagined.

But as the aches and pains continued, a new opponent to smoking arose, fear. I could not easily explain away these pains, nor rationalize them, and that led to fear. Fear of what I was doing to myself and what could happen to me if I continued down this path. My father smoked for 40 years. Most of his life, he had a cigarette in his hand. I have been smoking for over 10 years, a third of my life. I do not want to get to 40 years smoking. I would rather get to 40 years smoke free. I know his life long addiction played a major part in having open heart surgery. Our family has a history of heart disease, and cigarettes only exasperate that. I know one day I will have to deal with heart disease, but why must I bring it on myself sooner than needed. There is no need for that, when I can do something about it now.

I woke up one morning and realized, smoking is no longer the comfortable old friend I once knew. Now, smoking was like the smelly, inconsiderate house guest that does not realize it is time to go home. It does not fit into my life any longer. I want to be more active, to try more things and be fit again, like I was in my youth. I do not want to wake up in the morning feeling like crap, but to feel good, and alive. I do not want to feel barely functional by the end of the day, but energetic and ready for what the evening may bring. I want to live life to the fullest and not be limited in what I do or where I go, because I cannot smoke there or because I do not have the stamina or energy to do the things I choose. I know to get to that point, I must add more exercise and outdoor activities to my healthy living, and to do that, it is time to put this holdover of youth on the shelf with the others.

I believe, having been a smoker and working hard to become an ex-smoker, that the psychological addiction to cigarettes is much more powerful than the physical. There is definitely a physical addiction, no doubt. But it is the psychological aspect that is the real tough nut to crack. It is a habit that after awhile, you begin to associate with everything you do. Driving, walking, reading, writing, watching TV, hanging out with friends, going to bars, parties, parks, games, movies and just about anything else becomes associated with smoking. It is always there, no matter what you do. You do all of these things enough with a cigarette, the idea of doing them without one almost becomes foreign. You cannot imagine doing them and not having a pack on you. It feels strange, uncomfortable, and not normal, because you have taken one major identifier and constant of all those things away. I recently went to a housewarming party and managed to ruin a whole pack of cigarettes. How you ask? I had them in the pocket of my swim trunks when I jumped in the pool. I could not even go out to the pool without having them on me, because it felt strange. Luckily, or unluckily, I had smoked enough that I always had that spare pack with me, just in case. It is a mental addiction as much, or more, than it is physical. That is where addiction truly wraps its most powerful tendrils, right around your mind.

I feel and empathize with anyone who fights addiction. It is very tough, and some moments it seems like it may almost be impossible. But if you really, truly reach the point where you look at yourself and say, no more, you can do it. There is always a way. I know I have finally reached that point in my life, and no matter how difficult it is, I will always remind myself of how much better my life will be when cigarettes are gone. My life improved greatly when I kicked fast food out of it, it can improve that much more without cigarettes too. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be for those addicted to something stronger, and I wish them all the luck and urge them to seek the help of medical professionals, qualified psychiatrists, friends, family, coworkers and anyone else they can enlist. The bigger the support group, the better off you will be. I have been working on telling everyone I know that I am through, and all have been nothing but encouraging, supportive and helpful. Knowing that I have these people in my life that care for me, love me and want the best for me and want to see me kick this as much as I do helps tremendously.

At the beginning of the year, I made my first attempt. I thought I was ready, but I did not know the power of the beast I was fighting. Addiction is strong, and does not give up easily just because you decided to change. I started out strong, feeling good about myself. Many of the odd aches and pains went away. I started to feel better about myself, and feel healthier in general. I did well for a while, but if there was a chink in the armor, a hole that opened up, or an opportunity to be exploited, addiction found it. I would have a drag here and there, and it tasted good and that initial rush was back, and it felt great. Long time smokers never feel the rush anymore, the buzz of that first few drags off of a smoke, because we smoke so much it goes away. But when you have not had one in a while, and you light up, that buzz can be such a rush. It feels great, and you can feel it spread all over your body. It can even make you a bit loopy. This is one of the ways addiction gets you in the first place, looking to recapture that buzz. After awhile, it becomes nothing more than to keep from bottoming out. So addiction kept exploiting holes and using them to its advantage. I could rationalize anything suddenly. You know, it’s been a super stressful day, you should have one. It’s no big deal, as long as you dump the rest when you are done. I’d buy it, and the pack, have one or maybe two, toss the rest and not think about it. No big deal. This went on for a few weeks, with me never going more than two or three days without being able to rationalize it and talk myself into stopping at the nearest convenience store. I would sneak out of the house and do it at night, or when going for the paper, so my girlfriend wouldn’t know. I did not want to face the fact that I was back on that slope, and I certainly did not want it pointed out to me or to disappoint. But I was right there on that slope, desperately looking for any traction while it was tilting again faster than ever.

We took a trip to Las Vegas for the weekend, and that was way easy to rationalize. It’s Vegas, everyone smokes there! I stocked up like I was shipping out for the Congo. All the while promising they would be gone after the weekend. In a vain attempt to convince myself I had control, I even threw most of them away on the way out of the hotel. But, still, I smoked on the way home, convinced I was in charge. But the next day, I had one or two. As I did the day after that, and the day after that, and even the day after that. By the end of the month, which was particularly stressful at work, it was all over. I was back full time. Addiction had me again, and she was holding on tight.

This was 3 ½ months ago. I have thought since then how much I need to quit. When the aches and pains came back, I knew it was well past time. I laid out a plan. This time, I do not want to quit, but trade one vice for the other. I purchased wrist weights for when I walk, hand grips to keep with me when I get an urge, and a stability ball for an exercise regime. Since smoking is also a good way to pass the time when you are bored, I bought a few books I have been meaning to read, to occupy my time and mind on something other than burning a few down. I prepared myself for the road ahead, knowing the urges would always be there, and always crop up, but that each time I had to fight them, and after each successful fight, the next one would be a little easier. I bought a stock of nicotine patches, to help stave off the physical cravings and step slowly out of their grip as I battle the psychological aspects. I know some feel as though that is not really quitting, that it is a crutch that holds off really quitting and makes it easier to fall back into the clutches of smoking. My dad is not keen on those or any other stop smoking devices. When he quit for good, he just put them down and never picked them up again. I admire him for that, but I also know how persuasive my own mind can be. Perhaps I am not as strong as he is mentally to kick both sides of the addiction at once. To me, that is ok. To me, how I do it does not matter, as long as I do it. And if I have a tool I think will work, I am going put that tool in my arsenal and use every means at my disposal to defeat this enemy. I finally admitted to myself that I can never be a casual smoker. I cannot be the type of person that goes out one evening, has two or three, and then never has the urge to smoke again. That will never be me. I know you can say never say never, and who knows, there might be a time when that could be true. But I doubt it. I know how fast I was seduced in the first place, and I would rather not take a chance of falling back again.

Monday September 25th was the day on which I moved to the shelf, with unsteady but sure hands, the habit of smoking. I have been without cigarettes for two plus days now. It may seem insignificant in the macrocosm of things, but to me, it is a giant step forward. So far, it has been going well. I know I will have tougher days ahead, and that the urges will strike sometimes with the ferocity of a hurricane. But the toughest hurdle is past. The one where I said no more, meant it, and started down the path of recovery. I know since I finally got past addiction and all her wiles and actually started, each day will be a little bit easier. This morning, I noticed some of the aches and pains have dissipated, and with feeling a bit better, I believe in the coming days and weeks the rest will follow suit. I have dealt with the urges by using my hand grippers. After a few weeks, I’ll be able to tear apart a lobster bare handed with how much I am using them. But that is a bonus. Plus, combined with the wrist weights, and the start of the exercise program, I will help myself with both keeping any weight gain off as well as giving me something else to focus on besides how much addiction is telling me I want a cigarette. I read once that if you do something for 16 days, it becomes a habit. I am working on not doing something for that amount of time and hoping for the same results. I know if I can make it 16 days without lighting up or even so much as taking one drag, I will be well on my way and have more power to be able to conquer this. This is day three. Only 13 more to go until the first milestone is complete. After that, only 4 more to follow and I will be free. I will need to be ever vigilant of getting back on that slope, but I will be free. By my calculations, I will be off the patch program by the beginning of December, and by the 20th, will have put in 16 days of no patches and no cigarettes, and no smoking will officially be my habit. I can then look up at the shelf, and be proud, for once, of seeing this worn out trophy of impetuous youth, knowing I have strived hard and finally have a handle on it. Knowing for once, it does not hold sway over me, but I hold sway over it. I can say, with a small laugh, ahhh, how crazy was I to do that! By the time I look upon that shelf, I will have given myself the best gift of all, the gift of a longer, healthier life.

Now excuse me, I have reached the end and my mind is telling me that since the goal has been accomplished, it is time for a smoke. I really need to get my paws on my hand gripper and fast to quell the beast within. The urges wait for nothing.