UNFILTERED THOUGHTS: A 15-year life of cigarettes, addiction & human behavior.
UNFILTERED THOUGHTS: A 15-year life of cigarettes, addiction & human behavior.
When I was nearly 15 years old and in high school, everyday I came home from school and checked the mail for my family. On one fateful day 16 years ago, a promotional package for my father containing two Camel cigarette packs was mixed in with the junk mail, a practice that has since been outlawed.
I certainly knew what cigarettes were and thanks to a proper education, the harmful effects were also clear, but ultimately everything comes down to a choice. And I chose to stuff those cigarettes into my pants pocket, effectively making a well-informed bad choice that I have regretted every day since.
During my 15 years of puffing away on many different varieties of cigarettes, ranging from name-brands like Camel & Marlboro (the latter being my personal brand for about 12 of those 15 years), to the cheap-o brands like Quality Smokes and even a Harley Davidson brand, which tasted like sour dirt, many people have asked me why I started smoking. My response was and still is the same: I was simply rebelling against authority. I was not impressed by famous people who smoked and was not influenced by other friends or family and I was not lured by cute camel characters or the dirty cowboys. That is an experience I’m sure many other smokers had, but not me…I was a rebel. To further drive the rebellious point forward, I recall many conversations with disapproving adults about the effects of smoking and my rebuttals were childish and rebellious, like “I wanna die with two cigarettes in my mouth!” or “On my tombstone, I want the words: ‘Died with a cigarette firmly in his hand’”.
Over the next few days, I smoked both packs in various locations with friends and even at Disneyland (before they added regulations), feeling sick after every one. But I was determined to smoke properly, and I needed to “get used to” the feeling of smoking so I wouldn’t get sick anymore. Oddly, I was ignorant to the fact that “getting used to it” meant “getting addicted”.
Over the first few years most of my closest friends also became smokers but our habit was sporadic at best, solely dependent on cash-on-hand, bummin’ off strangers or family members. At times, lack of cigarettes became a subject of contention, especially if certain friends had more money than others as they were encouraged to buy cigarettes for the group. Many times I received cigarette-shaped welts on my face after being pelted in response to my constant begging to bum another cigarette. When I did have cash-on-hand, I would recruit a friend to help purchase my cigarettes. She was underage like I was, but she had much more success buying from local gas stations. We quickly noted all the locations that would consistently feed our habit, mostly the places that stayed open late.
After high school, my habit increased in response to a growth in capital & legal status. I had a good job at age 18 that was double the minimum wage and I quickly used the extra cash to purchase more cigarettes. At this point in my habit I was strictly a Marlboro “Reds” smoker but soon found them too harsh and switched to Marlboro “Mediums” which I smoked for the next 6 years. During those 6 years, the weight of addiction fell heavy on my shoulders for the first time and I came to grips with the fact that I was addicted. Guilt started to jab me in the side more often during certain moments like refusing to let my brother have his first cigarette or talking to long-time smokers who still had that rebellious attitude towards smoking. They bragged about the infamous “smokers cough” and to relieve the pain, they would light up a smoke. So tough they were! It reminded me of the things I would say back when I first started smoking but now I was indifferent. At this point I was already an experienced, veteran smoker and the signs of addiction started to show and I wanted out.
With growing public distaste, tax increases, other regulations and my own disgust with the habit, I thought for the first time that I needed to quit. A year after my brother died, I quit for the first time. I was just shy of 24 years old but the cessation did not last till my next birthday and after about 4 months I was back to smoking again. I switched to Marlboro “Lights” at this time and continued with this variety for another 3 years.
I was the most conscience smoker I knew. I made sure when I smoked in public that I was away from others, so they weren’t inhaling my smoke too. I would constantly switch smoking hands to ensure I didn’t inadvertently burn a passer-by. I never moaned and groaned about new regulations that drove me further away from the public or cost me more money. And even though I smoked in my car, if someone was riding along with me, I made sure I directed all smoking activity as far away from them as possible. I never asked to smoke in a non-smokers car or place of residence. Out of my 15 year habit I lived in a half dozen locations but I only smoked inside one of them and stopped after a non-smoker moved in. Even in places that catered to smokers, like Las Vegas, I still kept my smoking profile low and away from others. This was my habit, not anyone else’s.
As my age increased, my health declined. Mostly due to a sedentary career, reduction in metabolism and activity, and some mental dissatisfactions. A few years after switching to my final variety of Marlboro, the “Ultra Light”, I had an utter meltdown with side of panic-attack after suffering a huge withdrawal episode after a simple outpatient surgery. Pressed partly by this episode and my looming career change, I was again fully committed to the idea of ridding myself of this habit once and for all.
Smoking is more than just a chemical dependence. Surely nicotine plays the biggest role in keeping the habit alive, but the fact that for over 10 years the routine of smoking every hour of every day without any adjustment in this behavior became a clear hurdle that was complicated to overcome. I ask you to imagine something that you do everyday that you do not give much thought to which is also part of your daily routine. Need help? Perhaps it’s running your hands through your hair, maybe it’s biting your fingernails, or drinking a glass of wine before bed. Perhaps your routine involves certain paths you take while driving to work, certain routes you walk while at work, maybe it’s a daily timed break, or a specific pocket you keep something in, maybe it’s a word or phrase you utter when greeting someone. Now, stop doing that one thing. No mess-ups and no excuses.
Humans are creatures of habit, and any routine can be a difficult one to break. Furthermore, when an addiction has reached its peak, more often than not it involves a psychological dependence as well, which in most cases becomes the most difficult pattern to break. Oxycontin, Ambien, marijuana, alcohol, and food can all be considered “addictive” and some of these addictive chemicals are certainly better for health than others, but lest us not forget that all of them are simply chemicals. Video games, reading, shopping, working, gambling, exercise and sex can all be considered “addictive” as well and some of these addictive behaviors are certainly better for health than others, but lest us not for forget that all of them are simply behaviors. And when an additive chemical is mixed with an addictive behavior or routine, it’s an explosive combination.
After 15 years of consistent, chronic and repetitive smoking, I now had to rid myself of the chemical dependence, the routine and the hidden factor, the mental dependence. In the past, my plan of attack for the chemical dependence focused on nicotine patches or gum, which didn’t work for me. So this time around, I decided to allow myself as many other substitutions as I wanted as long as they weren’t nicotine based. Mostly this meant a lot of food and weight gain, but I figured it was worth it and any new habits I acquired could quickly be resolved. For my routine, I fought fire with fire and made a schedule of times during the day when I allowed myself to smoke. At first I picked my favorite smoking times: in the morning, after a meal, after work and before bed. After a few days, I curbed the morning smoke and instead put it arbitrarily in the early afternoon to rid myself of the 15-year morning ritual. I moved the after-lunch cigarette to late afternoon and merged the after-work, after-dinner & before-bed cigarette into just one in the late night, to stop my habit of smoking after meals and before bed. And surprisingly to some, this worked very well.
I tried the more common methods in the past, but they didn’t work for me. So this around I was trying what I thought would work the best. But now, techniques aside, it was time to put down the cigarettes for good.
That day came nearly 16 years into smoking. I planned the event around a 4-day weekend so I could deal with the withdrawals alone, without added stressors like friends, work and other distractions. The majority of the first day was unremarkable and quite decent, but well into the second and third days I started to feel a bit odd. I felt buzzed, like after a few beers, or when I first started smoking. Objects and light had a shine to them and the sensation of fully functional smell was overwhelming. Was this remnants of the chemical and my brain was running on its reserves? Was I beginning to see and feel what normal life was all about? Is this what is feels like to be normal? Was I hallucinating or severely panicking? The first few days are always the hardest and my experience was no exception.
Whatever was occurring to me, I saw no reason to stop, so I plunged ahead, taking many long showers and eating lots of Skittles. I couldn’t tell if these withdrawals were real or imagined and the amount of new smells was difficult on my brain. Smells are pathways to different distinctive memories in our lives and they also unlock parts of the brain that otherwise go unnoticed. As I walked down the street, I looked like an excited puppy-dog out for his daily walk, stopping to smell flowers, newly paved asphalt, buildings, grocery stores and homeless people. None of the smells were necessarily new, but they were enhanced to the nth degree. Some smells would stop me dead in my tracks as they triggered memories from when I was a child, the biggest chunk of time I spent as a non-smoker. The improved smell of flowers reminded me of childhood playground activities, the smell of restaurants brought me back to my mother’s cooking, and even when I passed a smoker and smelled their smell, I was jolted back to a vivid memory of Christmas past at my step-families house, filled with cigarette smoke. And some smells were down right awful. The crack-head homeless man that I walked by everyday and lived 100 ft. from, smelled like sour milk mixed with vinegar. A smell that was so miserable and potent that I held back the urge to purge my breakfast, every morning as I passed by him. It was intense and no one was able to relate. They all thought I was going nuts.
And maybe I was. Over the next few weeks the odd feelings remained and I began to pace, to fill the empty minutes of new time. Smoking filled up nearly two hours per day, 15-20 cigarettes per day at 5-10 minutes each, but smoking wasn’t consecutive, it was 10 minutes here and 5 minutes there, and I found it surprisingly irritating as I struggled to fill these now vacant pockets of time. I did not expect this. I couldn’t rationalize these transitional moments that happen in life, where nothing particular is needed or done for a few moments here and there. These simple mental breaks that exist in regular life were an unforeseen obstacle. And I hurled probing questions at the non-smokers in my life in an attempt to understand what the hell normal people do during these down times. Stare at the f’ing wall? Do jumping jacks? Sing a song? Howl at the moon? I ended up filling most of this time by pacing like an impatient animal in a cage. Nutty indeed.
In addition to pacing, other abnormal things that helped me get through the day included reciting encouraging phrases or words like a basketball coach rallying his team at halftime. They included such gems as, “My brain is not smarter than me!” and “I want to be able to make the choice to smoke or not, my addiction makes the choice for me!” And I repeated words like, “control, control, control” over and over and over. At times, I felt like a possessed malfunctioning robot, stuck in crazy mode and there was little I could do to fix or satisfy what my faulty brain needed, except for use of nicotine of course.
But I persisted, Skittles in hand, Rain Man-like behavior exposed and a few non-smoker friends and family encouraging me to continue. But the cells in my body were not so accepting. They were deprived of their expected level of nicotine and they tried real hard to alert me of this deficit. And I felt them ache. Just like when rich people divorce, they still expect the life they’ve grown accustomed to, well, so did my cells. Like a chronic sore knee, the annoyance is always there, a low-grade daily pain that occasionally rises to the surface and requires attention but normally stays in the background just irritating you while you work to keep out of the forefront of your mind.
Month after month passed and as my body began to adjust to new levels of chemicals, my 15-year daily routines were disappearing as well, but something more threatening began to emerge. Something more hidden, more harmful than any routine or chemical dependence, something that I had no answer or defense for: psychological reliance. This is the classic security blanket syndrome, when people use abnormal means as solutions to situations, problems or everyday behaviors. The object or substance used, has replaced the normal pathways people learn about life and are applied to situations that deal with adversity, harm and even normal human behavior. My solutions to mental concepts like anxiety, insecurity and even some social behavior were so intertwined with smoking cigarettes that at certain times during this year I thought this was an impossible challenge to overcome. With no capacity to deal with anxiety or insecurity, I was brought to my knees at around 5-6 months of this journey. Simple things like going to the grocery store or walking to the mailbox were a frightening reality that caused real physical pain and suffering, as well as huge mood swings. I would sweat profusely when in public or under the spotlight of others, my heart would race and I would panic. Adding fuel to the fire was my inability to properly cope with these feelings of despair. In the past, lighting up a cigarette to pace my anxiety was the solution. I could either reflect on the situation or calm my nerves to the irrational feelings I was having. I could spend a few minutes smoking a cigarette while preparing myself mentally for the task at hand. The act of smoking a cigarette allowed me precious moments to evaluate the issues I was faced with or better yet to escape from them. But now, there was no escape.
Even simple social behaviors like having conversations took getting used to. Without a break for a smoke or a pause in thought, I had to consciously stop talking even if it was in mid-sentence because I may have gone on forever. At work, anxiety over database code and concepts that required intense mental attention was commonplace, but now they had to be accomplished without a walk around the building puffing away on cigarettes, contemplating my next move. Surely part of that process is habit or routine, but for 15-years, I applied this behavior to every situation that required intense thought or mental processes, including feelings of depression or happiness.
The addiction was also my list maker, my idea man and a good listener. I puffed away on cigarettes while I developed the days’ events, I made mental notes of activities that needed accomplishment, I thought of new ideas to be further perused later, and I used it to evaluate past actions in order to make any necessary adjustments in future behavior. It was truly a focused event, rarely was I simply staring at the stars or enjoying the breeze. My smoking habit was how I got work done and life moving forward.
And now without cigarettes, my thoughts have no filters, I am raw to the touch and truly naked to the world. I am increasingly distracted, experiencing big mood swings, increasingly talkative, unfocused, and somewhat troubled. This is my new reality; an unfiltered reality.
But things are slowly getting better and I feel like I’m finally part of the normal world. A world that has little patience for addictive lifestyles and other complaints, which can make things a bit harder sometimes, as this addiction certainly isn’t anything that I can “get over” or “move on” from. This raw anxiety and panic is something that I must learn to accept and live with. It is the essence of being born again and I have to relearn how to live without my security blanket dragging behind me. Perhaps others in this “normal world” do have addictions but they just aren’t as noticeable as mine was…or maybe they have found better ways to hide it. And soon, my journey will be theirs.
I don’t have to tell anyone these days about the harm cigarettes do to people and that is a testament to constant research, science and a well-informed public. But the best thing about smoking is that it is one of the most regulated LEGAL substances ever. It was difficult to get until I was an adult, it is increasingly taxed every year, it is outlawed inside buildings and in public places, it is outlawed from advertising in TV, radio, magazines and newspapers, it must carry health warnings on every package (some countries have more effective warnings), hospitals are required to hand out health literature to smokers, some smokers have higher health care premiums, and even in films the MPAA may give a film a higher rating if it glamorizes or otherwise promotes smoking. Whew! But here's the point, it is still legal. Our government does so much to inform us how bad of a choice it is to smoke, but allows us to make the choice for ourselves. Then, if we still make the bad choice, they are right there by our side with more and more literature, guidance and assistance in order to get us to stop.
On issues that do not cause immediate or irreversible harm to ourselves or others (like murder, some drug use, rape, incest, arson, etc), a government should simply inform its citizens and educate them on decisions they will need to make. A government must not make the choice for the citizens. And if a citizen chooses unwisely, the government must continue to educate, inform, assist and guide a citizen.
I push back against some laws because until the government informs me why the rule exists, it’s like them saying: "Because I said so". (Repeat disclaimer: there are issues of immediate or irreversible harm to consider here and I’m fully aware that laws that are made in this respect are justified.) And once I’ve pressured them and the general public to explain certain laws, I’ve have found that most have been misinformed on what is actually harmful to them. These current half truths are similar to past mistakes pertaining to smoking cigarettes, yet our generation assumes too much about certain substances. I once read a governmental article from the 1950’s that claimed women were immune from heart disease and I’m sure many of you are privy to past claims about tobacco. When science and research are hijacked by political agendas, corporations, greed or other ideologies, people do not get the help they desperately need.
I’m rebellious against marijuana laws for this very reason because there is little to support the outrageous clams against it. Even charges of “gateway to immorality” are false. Everything I’ve read and researched, leads me to believe that marijuana should be treated the same as alcohol (and no, I am not a user of either), with the same disclaimers and guidance that is put upon cigarettes. But just like cigarettes, drugs or alcohol should not be glamorized and encouraged, period. People can get addicted to pretty much anything and without proper help, guidance and support from the government, friends or family; an addiction will be the least of a person’s worries.
If smoking cigarettes was illegal instead of regulated, I’m pretty sure my addiction would have cost me life or something equivalent. And I am forever grateful to those that made an impact.
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This is officially the last post of unfilteredthoughts.com - This site was mainly a gateway for my brain while I wen't through withdrawals and now a year in, it's time to move on from it. I may continue to post thoughts on dudekingme.blogspot.com - we'll see.
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When I was nearly 15 years old and in high school, everyday I came home from school and checked the mail for my family. On one fateful day 16 years ago, a promotional package for my father containing two Camel cigarette packs was mixed in with the junk mail, a practice that has since been outlawed.
I certainly knew what cigarettes were and thanks to a proper education, the harmful effects were also clear, but ultimately everything comes down to a choice. And I chose to stuff those cigarettes into my pants pocket, effectively making a well-informed bad choice that I have regretted every day since.
During my 15 years of puffing away on many different varieties of cigarettes, ranging from name-brands like Camel & Marlboro (the latter being my personal brand for about 12 of those 15 years), to the cheap-o brands like Quality Smokes and even a Harley Davidson brand, which tasted like sour dirt, many people have asked me why I started smoking. My response was and still is the same: I was simply rebelling against authority. I was not impressed by famous people who smoked and was not influenced by other friends or family and I was not lured by cute camel characters or the dirty cowboys. That is an experience I’m sure many other smokers had, but not me…I was a rebel. To further drive the rebellious point forward, I recall many conversations with disapproving adults about the effects of smoking and my rebuttals were childish and rebellious, like “I wanna die with two cigarettes in my mouth!” or “On my tombstone, I want the words: ‘Died with a cigarette firmly in his hand’”.
Over the next few days, I smoked both packs in various locations with friends and even at Disneyland (before they added regulations), feeling sick after every one. But I was determined to smoke properly, and I needed to “get used to” the feeling of smoking so I wouldn’t get sick anymore. Oddly, I was ignorant to the fact that “getting used to it” meant “getting addicted”.
Over the first few years most of my closest friends also became smokers but our habit was sporadic at best, solely dependent on cash-on-hand, bummin’ off strangers or family members. At times, lack of cigarettes became a subject of contention, especially if certain friends had more money than others as they were encouraged to buy cigarettes for the group. Many times I received cigarette-shaped welts on my face after being pelted in response to my constant begging to bum another cigarette. When I did have cash-on-hand, I would recruit a friend to help purchase my cigarettes. She was underage like I was, but she had much more success buying from local gas stations. We quickly noted all the locations that would consistently feed our habit, mostly the places that stayed open late.
After high school, my habit increased in response to a growth in capital & legal status. I had a good job at age 18 that was double the minimum wage and I quickly used the extra cash to purchase more cigarettes. At this point in my habit I was strictly a Marlboro “Reds” smoker but soon found them too harsh and switched to Marlboro “Mediums” which I smoked for the next 6 years. During those 6 years, the weight of addiction fell heavy on my shoulders for the first time and I came to grips with the fact that I was addicted. Guilt started to jab me in the side more often during certain moments like refusing to let my brother have his first cigarette or talking to long-time smokers who still had that rebellious attitude towards smoking. They bragged about the infamous “smokers cough” and to relieve the pain, they would light up a smoke. So tough they were! It reminded me of the things I would say back when I first started smoking but now I was indifferent. At this point I was already an experienced, veteran smoker and the signs of addiction started to show and I wanted out.
With growing public distaste, tax increases, other regulations and my own disgust with the habit, I thought for the first time that I needed to quit. A year after my brother died, I quit for the first time. I was just shy of 24 years old but the cessation did not last till my next birthday and after about 4 months I was back to smoking again. I switched to Marlboro “Lights” at this time and continued with this variety for another 3 years.
I was the most conscience smoker I knew. I made sure when I smoked in public that I was away from others, so they weren’t inhaling my smoke too. I would constantly switch smoking hands to ensure I didn’t inadvertently burn a passer-by. I never moaned and groaned about new regulations that drove me further away from the public or cost me more money. And even though I smoked in my car, if someone was riding along with me, I made sure I directed all smoking activity as far away from them as possible. I never asked to smoke in a non-smokers car or place of residence. Out of my 15 year habit I lived in a half dozen locations but I only smoked inside one of them and stopped after a non-smoker moved in. Even in places that catered to smokers, like Las Vegas, I still kept my smoking profile low and away from others. This was my habit, not anyone else’s.
As my age increased, my health declined. Mostly due to a sedentary career, reduction in metabolism and activity, and some mental dissatisfactions. A few years after switching to my final variety of Marlboro, the “Ultra Light”, I had an utter meltdown with side of panic-attack after suffering a huge withdrawal episode after a simple outpatient surgery. Pressed partly by this episode and my looming career change, I was again fully committed to the idea of ridding myself of this habit once and for all.
Smoking is more than just a chemical dependence. Surely nicotine plays the biggest role in keeping the habit alive, but the fact that for over 10 years the routine of smoking every hour of every day without any adjustment in this behavior became a clear hurdle that was complicated to overcome. I ask you to imagine something that you do everyday that you do not give much thought to which is also part of your daily routine. Need help? Perhaps it’s running your hands through your hair, maybe it’s biting your fingernails, or drinking a glass of wine before bed. Perhaps your routine involves certain paths you take while driving to work, certain routes you walk while at work, maybe it’s a daily timed break, or a specific pocket you keep something in, maybe it’s a word or phrase you utter when greeting someone. Now, stop doing that one thing. No mess-ups and no excuses.
Humans are creatures of habit, and any routine can be a difficult one to break. Furthermore, when an addiction has reached its peak, more often than not it involves a psychological dependence as well, which in most cases becomes the most difficult pattern to break. Oxycontin, Ambien, marijuana, alcohol, and food can all be considered “addictive” and some of these addictive chemicals are certainly better for health than others, but lest us not forget that all of them are simply chemicals. Video games, reading, shopping, working, gambling, exercise and sex can all be considered “addictive” as well and some of these addictive behaviors are certainly better for health than others, but lest us not for forget that all of them are simply behaviors. And when an additive chemical is mixed with an addictive behavior or routine, it’s an explosive combination.
After 15 years of consistent, chronic and repetitive smoking, I now had to rid myself of the chemical dependence, the routine and the hidden factor, the mental dependence. In the past, my plan of attack for the chemical dependence focused on nicotine patches or gum, which didn’t work for me. So this time around, I decided to allow myself as many other substitutions as I wanted as long as they weren’t nicotine based. Mostly this meant a lot of food and weight gain, but I figured it was worth it and any new habits I acquired could quickly be resolved. For my routine, I fought fire with fire and made a schedule of times during the day when I allowed myself to smoke. At first I picked my favorite smoking times: in the morning, after a meal, after work and before bed. After a few days, I curbed the morning smoke and instead put it arbitrarily in the early afternoon to rid myself of the 15-year morning ritual. I moved the after-lunch cigarette to late afternoon and merged the after-work, after-dinner & before-bed cigarette into just one in the late night, to stop my habit of smoking after meals and before bed. And surprisingly to some, this worked very well.
I tried the more common methods in the past, but they didn’t work for me. So this around I was trying what I thought would work the best. But now, techniques aside, it was time to put down the cigarettes for good.
That day came nearly 16 years into smoking. I planned the event around a 4-day weekend so I could deal with the withdrawals alone, without added stressors like friends, work and other distractions. The majority of the first day was unremarkable and quite decent, but well into the second and third days I started to feel a bit odd. I felt buzzed, like after a few beers, or when I first started smoking. Objects and light had a shine to them and the sensation of fully functional smell was overwhelming. Was this remnants of the chemical and my brain was running on its reserves? Was I beginning to see and feel what normal life was all about? Is this what is feels like to be normal? Was I hallucinating or severely panicking? The first few days are always the hardest and my experience was no exception.
Whatever was occurring to me, I saw no reason to stop, so I plunged ahead, taking many long showers and eating lots of Skittles. I couldn’t tell if these withdrawals were real or imagined and the amount of new smells was difficult on my brain. Smells are pathways to different distinctive memories in our lives and they also unlock parts of the brain that otherwise go unnoticed. As I walked down the street, I looked like an excited puppy-dog out for his daily walk, stopping to smell flowers, newly paved asphalt, buildings, grocery stores and homeless people. None of the smells were necessarily new, but they were enhanced to the nth degree. Some smells would stop me dead in my tracks as they triggered memories from when I was a child, the biggest chunk of time I spent as a non-smoker. The improved smell of flowers reminded me of childhood playground activities, the smell of restaurants brought me back to my mother’s cooking, and even when I passed a smoker and smelled their smell, I was jolted back to a vivid memory of Christmas past at my step-families house, filled with cigarette smoke. And some smells were down right awful. The crack-head homeless man that I walked by everyday and lived 100 ft. from, smelled like sour milk mixed with vinegar. A smell that was so miserable and potent that I held back the urge to purge my breakfast, every morning as I passed by him. It was intense and no one was able to relate. They all thought I was going nuts.
And maybe I was. Over the next few weeks the odd feelings remained and I began to pace, to fill the empty minutes of new time. Smoking filled up nearly two hours per day, 15-20 cigarettes per day at 5-10 minutes each, but smoking wasn’t consecutive, it was 10 minutes here and 5 minutes there, and I found it surprisingly irritating as I struggled to fill these now vacant pockets of time. I did not expect this. I couldn’t rationalize these transitional moments that happen in life, where nothing particular is needed or done for a few moments here and there. These simple mental breaks that exist in regular life were an unforeseen obstacle. And I hurled probing questions at the non-smokers in my life in an attempt to understand what the hell normal people do during these down times. Stare at the f’ing wall? Do jumping jacks? Sing a song? Howl at the moon? I ended up filling most of this time by pacing like an impatient animal in a cage. Nutty indeed.
In addition to pacing, other abnormal things that helped me get through the day included reciting encouraging phrases or words like a basketball coach rallying his team at halftime. They included such gems as, “My brain is not smarter than me!” and “I want to be able to make the choice to smoke or not, my addiction makes the choice for me!” And I repeated words like, “control, control, control” over and over and over. At times, I felt like a possessed malfunctioning robot, stuck in crazy mode and there was little I could do to fix or satisfy what my faulty brain needed, except for use of nicotine of course.
But I persisted, Skittles in hand, Rain Man-like behavior exposed and a few non-smoker friends and family encouraging me to continue. But the cells in my body were not so accepting. They were deprived of their expected level of nicotine and they tried real hard to alert me of this deficit. And I felt them ache. Just like when rich people divorce, they still expect the life they’ve grown accustomed to, well, so did my cells. Like a chronic sore knee, the annoyance is always there, a low-grade daily pain that occasionally rises to the surface and requires attention but normally stays in the background just irritating you while you work to keep out of the forefront of your mind.
Month after month passed and as my body began to adjust to new levels of chemicals, my 15-year daily routines were disappearing as well, but something more threatening began to emerge. Something more hidden, more harmful than any routine or chemical dependence, something that I had no answer or defense for: psychological reliance. This is the classic security blanket syndrome, when people use abnormal means as solutions to situations, problems or everyday behaviors. The object or substance used, has replaced the normal pathways people learn about life and are applied to situations that deal with adversity, harm and even normal human behavior. My solutions to mental concepts like anxiety, insecurity and even some social behavior were so intertwined with smoking cigarettes that at certain times during this year I thought this was an impossible challenge to overcome. With no capacity to deal with anxiety or insecurity, I was brought to my knees at around 5-6 months of this journey. Simple things like going to the grocery store or walking to the mailbox were a frightening reality that caused real physical pain and suffering, as well as huge mood swings. I would sweat profusely when in public or under the spotlight of others, my heart would race and I would panic. Adding fuel to the fire was my inability to properly cope with these feelings of despair. In the past, lighting up a cigarette to pace my anxiety was the solution. I could either reflect on the situation or calm my nerves to the irrational feelings I was having. I could spend a few minutes smoking a cigarette while preparing myself mentally for the task at hand. The act of smoking a cigarette allowed me precious moments to evaluate the issues I was faced with or better yet to escape from them. But now, there was no escape.
Even simple social behaviors like having conversations took getting used to. Without a break for a smoke or a pause in thought, I had to consciously stop talking even if it was in mid-sentence because I may have gone on forever. At work, anxiety over database code and concepts that required intense mental attention was commonplace, but now they had to be accomplished without a walk around the building puffing away on cigarettes, contemplating my next move. Surely part of that process is habit or routine, but for 15-years, I applied this behavior to every situation that required intense thought or mental processes, including feelings of depression or happiness.
The addiction was also my list maker, my idea man and a good listener. I puffed away on cigarettes while I developed the days’ events, I made mental notes of activities that needed accomplishment, I thought of new ideas to be further perused later, and I used it to evaluate past actions in order to make any necessary adjustments in future behavior. It was truly a focused event, rarely was I simply staring at the stars or enjoying the breeze. My smoking habit was how I got work done and life moving forward.
And now without cigarettes, my thoughts have no filters, I am raw to the touch and truly naked to the world. I am increasingly distracted, experiencing big mood swings, increasingly talkative, unfocused, and somewhat troubled. This is my new reality; an unfiltered reality.
But things are slowly getting better and I feel like I’m finally part of the normal world. A world that has little patience for addictive lifestyles and other complaints, which can make things a bit harder sometimes, as this addiction certainly isn’t anything that I can “get over” or “move on” from. This raw anxiety and panic is something that I must learn to accept and live with. It is the essence of being born again and I have to relearn how to live without my security blanket dragging behind me. Perhaps others in this “normal world” do have addictions but they just aren’t as noticeable as mine was…or maybe they have found better ways to hide it. And soon, my journey will be theirs.
I don’t have to tell anyone these days about the harm cigarettes do to people and that is a testament to constant research, science and a well-informed public. But the best thing about smoking is that it is one of the most regulated LEGAL substances ever. It was difficult to get until I was an adult, it is increasingly taxed every year, it is outlawed inside buildings and in public places, it is outlawed from advertising in TV, radio, magazines and newspapers, it must carry health warnings on every package (some countries have more effective warnings), hospitals are required to hand out health literature to smokers, some smokers have higher health care premiums, and even in films the MPAA may give a film a higher rating if it glamorizes or otherwise promotes smoking. Whew! But here's the point, it is still legal. Our government does so much to inform us how bad of a choice it is to smoke, but allows us to make the choice for ourselves. Then, if we still make the bad choice, they are right there by our side with more and more literature, guidance and assistance in order to get us to stop.
On issues that do not cause immediate or irreversible harm to ourselves or others (like murder, some drug use, rape, incest, arson, etc), a government should simply inform its citizens and educate them on decisions they will need to make. A government must not make the choice for the citizens. And if a citizen chooses unwisely, the government must continue to educate, inform, assist and guide a citizen.
I push back against some laws because until the government informs me why the rule exists, it’s like them saying: "Because I said so". (Repeat disclaimer: there are issues of immediate or irreversible harm to consider here and I’m fully aware that laws that are made in this respect are justified.) And once I’ve pressured them and the general public to explain certain laws, I’ve have found that most have been misinformed on what is actually harmful to them. These current half truths are similar to past mistakes pertaining to smoking cigarettes, yet our generation assumes too much about certain substances. I once read a governmental article from the 1950’s that claimed women were immune from heart disease and I’m sure many of you are privy to past claims about tobacco. When science and research are hijacked by political agendas, corporations, greed or other ideologies, people do not get the help they desperately need.
I’m rebellious against marijuana laws for this very reason because there is little to support the outrageous clams against it. Even charges of “gateway to immorality” are false. Everything I’ve read and researched, leads me to believe that marijuana should be treated the same as alcohol (and no, I am not a user of either), with the same disclaimers and guidance that is put upon cigarettes. But just like cigarettes, drugs or alcohol should not be glamorized and encouraged, period. People can get addicted to pretty much anything and without proper help, guidance and support from the government, friends or family; an addiction will be the least of a person’s worries.
If smoking cigarettes was illegal instead of regulated, I’m pretty sure my addiction would have cost me life or something equivalent. And I am forever grateful to those that made an impact.
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This is officially the last post of unfilteredthoughts.com - This site was mainly a gateway for my brain while I wen't through withdrawals and now a year in, it's time to move on from it. I may continue to post thoughts on dudekingme.blogspot.com - we'll see.
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