I’m currently in phase four of my quit smoking app and must wait an hour and twenty minutes between smokes. It’s already getting a little tougher and every time I think about giving up cigarettes entirely I feel panic. I’ve been thinking about why that is.

I started smoking at the ripe old age of eleven and am now in my early fifties. Being a smoker is tightly wrapped up in my identity as a human being. Quitting smoking is like quitting a part of me. Who will I be without my cigarettes? The answer to that question remains to be seen and the good news is I don’t have to figure it all out right this second; there are plenty more phases to go through before the end. I now understand that my identity as a smoker is a part of my stupid addiction.

Smoking surrounds everything I do; before and after tasks; first thing in the morning and last thing at night; right after meals. What will I do besides smoke? Well, it takes twenty one days to form a new habit and that’s what I will have to do. I’m not a hundred percent sure what that will look like but doing the dishes after a meal instead of smoking, doing yoga and meditation first thing in the morning and before bed look like good places to start while I’m still allowed to smoke fairly frequently.

I’m also deliberately breaking some habits that go along with smoking. My morning coffee is no longer accompanied by a cigarette and I move on to the next task or read a little instead of smoking directly after finishing a task. I sometimes further delay going out for a smoke even though my app says I can. These strategies should make the transition to phase five a little easier.

When I was thirteen years old I asked my parents if I could go on birth control. The answer was no, of course. I told them I was already having sex and didn’t want to get pregnant. I guess they figured the lack of birth control would deter me from being promiscuous but it didn’t.

There was a second reason, however. My older brother was molesting me and I didn’t know if he would eventually escalate to raping me. At that time I was afraid to tell my parents what was happening so I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t say anything about it until I was fourteen and away at private school where my brother couldn’t touch me.

I told my brother that I told on him and his exact words were, “It’s not like I raped you. If I get any heat off of this, you’ll never see me again.”

I’ll never forget the callousness in his voice and in his words. He didn’t care about the damage he caused, he still doesn’t because he is still lying. My parents didn’t believe me anyway. But I’m getting side tracked…

The point to my post is that though I am tempted to call up my parents and rant about the second reason I wanted birth control at thirteen in an effort to convince them I’m not lying or making things up, I don’t because it wouldn’t do any good. It wouldn’t be helpful. They are steadfast in their belief that I’m a liar. It would be like picking off a crusty old scab off of a wound that is trying to heal, and I would be the only one feeling the sting.

A few months ago I wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge, I’d obsess over it until I made the call. A few months ago I was still harassing my older brother trying to make him tell the truth. He never did and never will. I can accept that now just as I can accept that my parents won’t ever believe me. To protect myself I rarely speak to my folks, just on occasions like birthdays and such. I don’t speak to my brother at all, I even deleted his phone number from my contacts. I call that progress.

I was in my early forties when I first picked up a paintbrush. My oldest daughter came over to my place with some canvas boards, oil paints and paint brushes. I was immediately hooked! I had to put the paints away for a couple of years due to time and space limitations, then a huge depression took over. Now that I’m starting to feel better I’ve dug them out and have been working on developing some skills by watching videos and Bob Ross.

I have a small fortune in canvases that have been covered in gesso so many times they are now smooth and not really suitable for anything but practicing my brush strokes.

I have tried to do several paintings by following along and though I’ve improved, I’m still no Bob Ross and I do get discouraged from time to time. Sometimes I think I’ll never become an artist because I wasn’t able to do the painting as well as the artist was doing it on YouTube. My therapist pointed out that was global thinking and not at all helpful. The fact is I create art and that makes me an artist.

She reminded me the artists on YouTube are demonstrating styles and techniques they are well practiced at and comfortable with, just as I only share my “successful” paintings. They didn’t instantly become good at painting, they’ve had their share of failures. I keep this knowledge close and try again.

I’m even thinking of starting my own YouTube channel just so I can demonstrate that very point. My viewers could watch me try to do a painting over and over until I finally succeed in creating something beautiful….We’ll see what the future holds.

Quitting smoking cold turkey hasn’t worked the last few times I’ve tried so now I am attempting to quit smoking by gradually cutting back. I downloaded an app to help me do just that. I entered how many cigarettes I usually smoke in a day (20 or so) and the app clocks intervals of when I can smoke. The intervals gradually increase thus my smoking should decrease.

Here’s the thing, I have to be willing to let this timer dictate when I smoke rather than just smoking whenever I want. At the current interval of about fifty eight minutes I’m smoking a little less but I swear sometimes all I can do is watch that countdown for the last few minutes. The next phase will time a longer interval between smokes.

For the last week I’ve also kept track of why I was smoking and it seems like I was smoking out of habit or anxiety about half the time, the rest is pretty much just cravings. It forced me to stop and think about whether or not I was actually craving. This only works if I am honest with myself.

I will say that it’s hardest for me to follow this timer in the mornings. It’s like I need to resupply my nicotine levels in the morning so I was chain smoking for the first couple of hours of the day. Then, throughout the day it was just a matter of maintaining that level so I was smoking less in the afternoons and evenings. Now that I’m on this timed interval I find my cravings are lining up with the times I can smoke, if not a little before. I cope with the wait time between cigarettes by painting or reading or playing a video game.

I’ve also been working on a pros and cons list, it isn’t finished yet but I’m off to a good start.

I am a smoker and have been since the tender age of eleven, I’ve been a smoker for forty plus years with the exception of about two years when I didn’t smoke. I have tried quitting at least a dozen times with varying degrees of short term success. One would think I’d be eager to quit considering it burns up about twenty dollars per day(which I cannot afford); it takes up a lot of my time; it comes between my partner and me (he hates smoking with a passion); and it eats away at my health. It’s the one substance that gets into every cell of your body. There is nothing good about smoking.

But quitting is hard, and for me, and the mental addiction feels stronger than the physical. There’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do when I run out of cigarettes. I’ve walked to the store in snowstorms; bummed smokes from strangers; borrowed money from friends; I’ve even picked up cigarette butts off the sidewalk (don’t judge me) out of desperation.

My long suffering partner is desperate for me to quit and brings it up frequently. I know how much he hates it and it has a negative effect on our relationship. I would like to quit for him and for the sake of our relationship but I keep smoking anyway. I think I am beginning to understand why.

I smoke sometimes out of habit when I don’t even really want a cigarette; after meals; before bed, first thing when I get up; before and after going into a store; before and after a task; when I’m stressed or emotional; when I’m bored. There isn’t a part of my day that isn’t touched by smoking and for so long it’s been my best friend.

After discussing this with my therapist I decided to write a pros and cons list and keep track of when I’m going out for smokes and why. This is so I can come up with a game plan to cut back and quit for good. For the record, I’m up to nearly a pack per day. I’ll keep you posted on my journey.

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