An open letter to Kiersten

Yes, Kiersten, there is life after tobacco.

Why is it worthwhile to quit smoking? You know, that's a tough one. Obviously the health argument doesn't work: you're young, you're healthy, and if it kills you, so what, that's some other time, not now. (I find the thought of wheeling around an oxygen tank with me a lot more frightening than the thought of death, but that's just me.) And anyway, it doesn't seem to be hurting anything RIGHT NOW. It's like the Weight Watchers adage, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels." Yeah, but I'm not gonna be skinny RIGHT NOW in any case, so gimme that cookie. And I'm not gonna die of lung cancer RIGHT NOW, whereas I am going to hurt someone real bad if I don't have a cigarette.

I know. I am a completely non-militant, non-judgmental, reformed smoker. My husband and I quit Labor Day weekend, 2001 - just before the terrorist attacks. We had each quit several times before that - I even made it a record seven months once - but always ended up smoking again. What it took to quit was a pledge to one another. See, either of us would cheat on OURSELVES (watch me play solitaire sometime), but neither would cheat on the OTHER. So an extra motivation was added.

I don't know what your motivation is, and I don't know how to enhance it. Our original motivation was money, which is an issue with pretty much everyone nowadays. At the time, cigarettes were just over $2 a pack, and together we were going through at least three packs a day. Simple math: $6 a day, $42 a week, $180 a month, over $2000 a year. And they're considerably more expensive now.

But I know all the answers to that, too, One $4 pack of cigarettes today will last me until ... [fill in the blank]. Or, I'll quit when this pack runs out, so it really doesn't matter. I can't tell you how long we bought single packs instead of the cheaper cartons, because we weren't going to keep smoking that long. Anyway, I think I saw a sign for brand-name cigarettes at $3.85 a pack. At even one pack a day, $115.50 a month is still a strong argument.

And really, it's about the strongest I've got. You don't believe you're stinky - I know, I've been there. That smoky smell is comforting, and you can't smell the undertones that make nonsmokers gag. And if you DID believe it, you'd just feel superior, because that's the way it is. I smoke, and this is how my house smells, and if you smoked too we'd all get along.

I could tell you about the odd and unexpected benefits of being a nonsmoker: I don't have shreds of tobacco all over the bottom of my purse, getting caught under my fingernails when I'm grubbing for change. I don't have to carry a lighter with me everywhere. I don't have to check whether the Pepsi can or beer can I'm picking up has been used as an ashtray (gak blecchh ptui). I don't have to drive with the window cracked on the coldest or hottest days of the year, to let the smoke escape.

But those are just side items, the minor benefits like turning out your pockets and finding a quarter. Not a $10 bill or anything, but still, a nice little pick-me-up.

For me, the biggest benefit of not smoking is (drumroll please) ... freedom. I'm not bound and hogtied by a habit that dominates my thoughts and my patterns of behavior all day. I don't have to run outside right after a meal. When I finish a project and need a break before starting something new, I don't have a nicotine addiction dictating what I must do next.

As one who values her freedom above almost anything, I can tell you, this matters. But I don't think I would have believed it while I was still smoking. You see, cigarettes were my friend. And as awful and demanding and detrimental as that friendship could be, it's hard to give up on a friendship. Knowing that you'll be better off doesn't help the pain of loss.

Nobody who hasn't smoked can possibly understand that there IS an emotional loss there. It's almost like the video game addiction, where you have an instant playmate whenever you're in the mood: a cigarette is there to share your pensive moments, your celebrations, your well-deserved breaks. A cigarette says you're all right, it's good to stop for a few minutes, suck in a little tobacco, let everything go. That cigarette is your partner, the one who pats you on the back and says, "Good job! Take a break!"

So it's not quite like breaking up, when you quit smoking: I never really thought I was hurting the cigarette's feelings, or rejecting it. I'm not THAT neurotic. But the thoughts and feelings that go along with the few minutes of smoking are hard to pin down, without that "break time" mentality. Chewing gum and tootsie pops just aren't the same. Especially with a beer! There is definitely a bond with smoking that goes beyond habit or physical craving.

Frankly, it's a bond I'm glad to have broken. I wish you all kinds of luck and strength and courage as you saw through those tobacco vines and try to make your own escape.

Sincerely,
KayO

Comments

[Nicole]

Good luck to Kiersten! I'm one of the lucky ones who, while a product of two heavy smokers, never picked the habit up. Trying desperately to get my mother to stop -- again.

I'll appeal to her vanity, too. Smoking puts some not-so-pretty lines around your mouth. My mother paints a very youthful portrait that would be younger still without this nasty side-effect. Good luck!!!