If you see her, say hello

Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past
I know every scene by heart - they all went by so fast
If she's passing back this way, I'm not that hard to find
Tell her she can look me up, if she's got the time.
~ Bob Dylan, "If You See Her, Say Hello," Blood on the Tracks

Did you ever break up with someone? Do you remember the feeling? Bereft, guilty, hopeful and despairing, telling over in your mind every moment you spent together, poking the hurt and storyboarding a future in which you can show them how OVER them you are.

Then you know what it's like to quit smoking.

Mistrustful Pariahs

Last month at work I took part in a brainstorm on smoking cessation: what works? what fails? why do you want to quit? The session and the ideas we were vetting had been designed by nonsmokers, but they wanted to get the viewpoint of current smokers, and smokers who had kicked the habit. (Damn decent of them.)

I quit smoking in 2001, and I was the lone quitter in the bunch. Apparently it took some courage to show up for this event: invitations were sent out blind, so no one could see who else was invited. It seemed to me we were being treated like we had herpes or something; and I know smokers who were embarrassed to be on "the list," so apparently there was some reason for this sensitivity. Me, I'm not ashamed of having smoked, and I happily narked out everyone I ever smoked with, when they asked for suggestions for other invitees. Still, only a handful of the orally fixated showed up, skulking guiltily to their seats and hanging their heads at every question.

Back in 1985 I had gone through a smoking cessation class, and I know that the first question we all asked the counselor was: do YOU smoke? Our coordinator admitted that she had smoked occasionally, but not every day, so she couldn't really be considered a smoker. We put up a wall of skepticism and mistrust, because if you don't smoke, You. Don't. Get It.

Invalid Premise

My husband was a Vietnam veteran. He really only trusted other Vietnam vets, because they knew. He related to DeNiro's character in The Deer Hunter, at his hometown bar, tossing down shots with the toast "Fuck It." There was nothing else to say to people who weren't there; there was no way they could find the darkness inside him with their cheery little concerns for his wellbeing. When the entire premise is invalid, there's no possible response. Sometimes at night, Dale sobbed. But he was sobbing as much for the preservation of that darkness as for its eradication. He wanted that pain, those unspeakable memories, and he wanted affirmation that the darkness was part of him, not something to shut the door on and forget about.

The entire premise that "smoking is bad" is invalid to smokers. Nonsmokers who want to "help" us quit are as irrelevant as the welcome home party for DeNiro.

Sympathy for the Devil

Battered women often stay in the relationship, and those of us outside the relationship wonder why. They must be getting something out of it, but we don't know what. I do know a lot of reasons why I smoked, why some other people smoke, and they are emotional reasons. Nonsmokers act like smoking is an activity, like skateboarding, that we can just stop doing. They don't know what we're getting out of it:

1) Reward: for completion of a project, a celebration, acknowledgment
    that "I deserve this"
2) Solace: a quiet place to face your frustrations and let them go
3) A break: escape from the rat race
4) Companionship: I'm not lounging around by myself, I'm out here 
    with a cigarette
5) Procrastination: before I get started on this day/project/speech/event,
    I'll just take a few minutes to get my head together
6) And back to reward: well, that's over, how about a pat on the back
    and a cigarette?

In other words: that cigarette is my friend. When you ask me to quit smoking, you're asking me to give up a friendship at the deepest levels of my psyche, beyond verbal communication, at the edges where life is lived: joy and pain and fear and loneliness, running away and coming home and letting down the defenses.

And it's a friend that's always there, a Bic-flick away. I don't have to explain what's going on, because this cigarette is in it with me. I'm sharing my triumphs and disappointments and anxieties, stealing time for myself, and sharing it with my friend the cigarette. Never mind that my friend is slowly killing me: I LOVE this friend, and I don't hurt right now, so it's hard for me to believe that there's any long-term damage. You think I don't know it's bad for my health? Psssshhh. So what? Life is full of risks. At least this one never let me down.

So if you meet me, have some courtesy
Have some sympathy and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse
Or I'll lay your soul to waste.
~ Rolling Stones, "Sympathy for the Devil," Beggars Banquet

Bittersweet Longing

So yeah, hostility. In fact, the smoking-cessation coordinator overcame our "You don't understand" hostility by admitting she wasn't a REAL smoker, and by acknowledging our emotional relationship with smoking. Oho, somebody wasn't going to preach at us from a holier-than-thou mountaintop pulpit! She heard our ambivalence: just as every smoker wants to quit, every smoker ALSO wants to smoke. Physical addiction? Pah! That's over when the nicotine clears your system. Habit? <sneers> Twirling your hair is a habit, and stopping is a matter of training.

But breaking up with a dear friend? This is GRIEF, only it doesn't get treated that way. People want to congratulate, to celebrate! It feels as inappropriate as celebrating a divorce. OUCH. We were actually asked, in this recent brainstorm, what would be an appropriate way to celebrate a milestone of quitting. "I don't want to celebrate," I snarled. "I could go back to smoking at any time."

Stupid nonsmokers. What they heard was: "I might be weak." What I meant was: "I WANT to go back."

I miss my friend, the cigarette break. Like every other quitter, I went through a painful process of replacing my cigarette breaks, one by one. Like the lover who has to come up with new associations for all the old familiar places and the shared language, I had to find new ways of dealing with those edges. And there are always unexpected reminders - the love song that catches you in an unguarded moment has nothing on the shock of reaching for a cigarette in an out-of-the-ordinary situation.

Irritability is said to be a consequence of nicotine withdrawal. But being asked to celebrate the breakup is often what causes the irritability: I know this is a supposedly good thing, but it hurts like hell, and please don't patronize me with your pep talks. My friend is gone, and sometimes the only thing that makes it bearable is the secret thought that I can visit that friend again, someday, somewhere down the road a ways. Tell her she can look me up, if she's got the time.

Goodbye is too good a word, Babe,
So I'll just say "Fare thee well."
~ Dylan, "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right"

This post is in defense of all would-be quitters (and one in particular), and is my attempt to bust up some assumptions. If you think the smoker-into-nonsmoker transition is a happy one, well ... don't think twice, it's all right.

Comments

[Nicole]

Great post! But, I'm disappointed, KayO.

Your usual, open-minded self discounts the fact that there are tolerant non-smokers and who, while non-smokers, DO get it.

And, as such, are ashamed and dismayed at the pariah status which some of the other non-smoking public assigns to smokers. I hate those holier-than-thou types who lift their nose up and snort, "Oh, she SMOKES." (I have been tempted to bash some on more than one occasion.)

Nicotine is bad. No two ways about it. But if they want to tackle something that reallys Fs-up some lives, they need to take on alcohol. Gives you the chance to not only kill you, but others, much faster.

[Nina]

Sounds rather like my relationship with food.

[Nina]

Oh, and I think this is very well put, and probably moves me closer to understanding what it's like, even though I will never understand what it's like, because... You covered that already.

[KayO]

Thank you. Nicole, I was trying very gently to imply that the same emotional connections may apply to alcoholics and other drug addicts as well. Let us not vilify anyone who finds comfort and connection in a destructive lifestyle. I don't know how an alocholic feels, but I know it's ultimately something within the person that makes that connection, and neither scolding nor social condemnation are strong enough to sever it.

[knowoneyouknow]

"....if they want to tackle something that really Fs-up some lives, they need to take on alcohol. Gives you the chance to not only kill you, but others, much faster." ..Makes me want to quit alcohol and take up smoking.

But seriously, this is a well written post KayO. I've got my own dark place, but at least it wasn't sanctioned by the military.

Let's also not condemn people who "just don't understand" - instead, I will simply send them this link, and thank them very much for trying.

[Kathryn (@kat1124)]

Day 38.

Thanks for writing this, it's exactly that. Nobody understands, just don't talk about it, I already told my husband "Don't ASK me what's wrong!", but he still doesn't get that. I keep listening to this song every day, probably shouldn't but it's so how I feel since I quit.

I'm on a train
But there's no one at the helm
And there's a demon in my brain
That's starts to overwhelm
- Third Eye Blind, "Narcolepsy"

Of course, day 38 so I'm winning, today anyway...but I feel often overwhelmed. And absolutely miserable.

Great post.

[daisyfae]

tysdaddy sent me here... you have articulated something very difficult. i've quit. i still love it. good luck with it.

[Emily King]

I'm here from The Cheek, and I have to say THANK YOU. I've been smoking off-and-on since I was fifteen, and I recently started smoking again after being smoke-free for almost a year so I could grow a human being inside my body. (You see, I care about my son's lungs, but not my own. *wry humor*) I always tell people that I'm good at quitting and good at starting up again. When I want to quit, I'm made of willpower, but when I want to smoke, I WANT TO SMOKE. It's a comfort for me, in the same way that a tub of ice cream is a comfort to some people, or a glass of whiskey is to others. It's my security blanket. And I have NO PATIENCE for the nonsmokers who say, "Just stop!" Yeah, okay, why don't you JUST STOP the destructive behaviors in your own life? Oh, wait, that's different? I don't think so.

(Man, I turn into angry lady when I start talking about this stuff. I swear, I'm usually rather charming. Nice to meet you, by the way!)

[KayO]

Thanks to those of you who came here via The Cheek of God. I appreciate your kind comments. Emily, I too get angry when I talk about this; my empathy for tysdaddy and his wistful efforts to quit made me realize I needed to write this. Kathryn, sending good vibes your way, Day 38 or Day 388.