Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Nicorette gum makes my eyes bleed
But I'm having a piece. Yes, it's that time again. Cara's quitting smoking again.
Decided to start skipping the wake up cigarette since I always want one with my morning coffee at work. First off, the first couple hours of the day without a smoke is like nails on a chalkboard inside your veins. Seriously, have you ever heard your own blood cry?
For some reason, morning's hard. After work's hard. I thought work would be hard, but the cigs during work feel more like "addiction" cigarettes than any other ones. You take a few minutes. You have one. Then at the same time your crying veins quiet down they get loud all over again, because you just want to sit and drink coffee and smoke, and you don't want to get back to work.
It's funny what else. How when you smoke all the time, you don't even notice, but if you are cutting down you mind that you don't even notice. I picked up a paper, read an article with half a cigarette, and all I could think was "half my cigarette's gone," and I couldn't even enjoy the last half because the paper kept burning and it kept getting shorter, and my mind couldn't shake the dread. I don't know if it was worse it was almost gone or that almost gone meant back to work.
Maybe both.
I used to always be able to tell when I began to hate a job, because that is when I begin to smoke the most. You start smoking enough at a job then it's like any little amount of work warrants a smoke break.
"I'll check on this table, then have a cigarette."
"After I make this drink, I'm gonna have a cigarette."
"After I brush these pool tables, I'll have a cigarette."
"After this table leaves, I'm going to have a cigarette."
It's funny the way cigarettes punctuate things. It's also funny how they make little rewards, like offering a piece of candy or a Coke to a kid for being good.
Especially with schoolwork:
"I read everything; I just have to write the paper. I'll have a cigarette, and get started right away."
Or studying:
"I just finished a chapter. I'm gonna have a cigarette."
Or writing an article:
"OK, it's mostly written. There's _____ words there. I just need to tweak the lede a little bit and trim it. I'll have a cigarette, then take another look."
There's the get-off-work cigarette, the home-from-work cigarette, the after-dinner cigarette, the before-bed cigarette, cigarette with a beer, cigarette with a glass of wine, cigarette with a good book, cigarette with a walk to the store, cigarette on the way to class, cigarette right after class, cigarette after a movie, cigarette after a two-hour trip to Target ...
***
We have a plan, my partner and I, and we are going to beat this. We're going to do it for good. I know because ...
My grandmother used to talk to me about it, reflecting on all the dying cancer-ridden beds she has sat beside in the last several years. Once, she said to me, "Young people never think it'll matter. They think it'll take a few years off your life, and you won't want them. But when you get older, all you can think is 'just a few more years.' And you're not ready to go yet."
I vaguely understood what she was trying to tell me, but I didn't want to, either.
Somehow, though, I believe her. I'm thinking about how in love I am. I'm thinking about the career I'm about to start. I'm thinking I would like to have children. I'm thinking, I've got a lot I still want to do.
Seeing my mother go through what she just went through leaves such a horrible aftertaste in my mouth, that should be even worse with each cigarette I have. I know it breaks so many hearts when i do.
She quit when she was in her early 30s. Colon and liver cancer at 50 was not part of the plan. Like the stroke she had when I was 14, the doctors can't ever name what exactly pulled the trigger, but if genes are an map outlining which roads your body might take, if they are an indication of what's in store, mine probably aren't the sort of thing I should ignore.
They say in the first five years after quitting stress and trauma can trigger relapse. I've only quit for two significant stretches of time out of the strings of attempts I've made, but in each case, where I started again, there were similarities.
I know the similarities, and I know cigs have never helped make anything better. In the worst times, they gave me something to do, something to focus on to dull the pain. Yes, I enjoy smoking occasionally, but at a pack each day, so few are memorable compared to the others: burnt up amplified addiction, making me short of breath, making me irritable, making me wonder if the smoke on the way to class doesn't linger and bother some stranger next to me, trying to learn, making me wonder which headache is going to be the headache, making me wonder which cells are already there, making me wonder how many more lines will be drawn on my face ...
Addiction is a terrible thing. This shit's evil, but I think knowing something for what it is could be the key to beating it. Maybe the key to beating it is doing so before it breaks you.
But I'm having a piece. Yes, it's that time again. Cara's quitting smoking again.
Decided to start skipping the wake up cigarette since I always want one with my morning coffee at work. First off, the first couple hours of the day without a smoke is like nails on a chalkboard inside your veins. Seriously, have you ever heard your own blood cry?
For some reason, morning's hard. After work's hard. I thought work would be hard, but the cigs during work feel more like "addiction" cigarettes than any other ones. You take a few minutes. You have one. Then at the same time your crying veins quiet down they get loud all over again, because you just want to sit and drink coffee and smoke, and you don't want to get back to work.
It's funny what else. How when you smoke all the time, you don't even notice, but if you are cutting down you mind that you don't even notice. I picked up a paper, read an article with half a cigarette, and all I could think was "half my cigarette's gone," and I couldn't even enjoy the last half because the paper kept burning and it kept getting shorter, and my mind couldn't shake the dread. I don't know if it was worse it was almost gone or that almost gone meant back to work.
Maybe both.
I used to always be able to tell when I began to hate a job, because that is when I begin to smoke the most. You start smoking enough at a job then it's like any little amount of work warrants a smoke break.
"I'll check on this table, then have a cigarette."
"After I make this drink, I'm gonna have a cigarette."
"After I brush these pool tables, I'll have a cigarette."
"After this table leaves, I'm going to have a cigarette."
It's funny the way cigarettes punctuate things. It's also funny how they make little rewards, like offering a piece of candy or a Coke to a kid for being good.
Especially with schoolwork:
"I read everything; I just have to write the paper. I'll have a cigarette, and get started right away."
Or studying:
"I just finished a chapter. I'm gonna have a cigarette."
Or writing an article:
"OK, it's mostly written. There's _____ words there. I just need to tweak the lede a little bit and trim it. I'll have a cigarette, then take another look."
There's the get-off-work cigarette, the home-from-work cigarette, the after-dinner cigarette, the before-bed cigarette, cigarette with a beer, cigarette with a glass of wine, cigarette with a good book, cigarette with a walk to the store, cigarette on the way to class, cigarette right after class, cigarette after a movie, cigarette after a two-hour trip to Target ...
***
We have a plan, my partner and I, and we are going to beat this. We're going to do it for good. I know because ...
My grandmother used to talk to me about it, reflecting on all the dying cancer-ridden beds she has sat beside in the last several years. Once, she said to me, "Young people never think it'll matter. They think it'll take a few years off your life, and you won't want them. But when you get older, all you can think is 'just a few more years.' And you're not ready to go yet."
I vaguely understood what she was trying to tell me, but I didn't want to, either.
Somehow, though, I believe her. I'm thinking about how in love I am. I'm thinking about the career I'm about to start. I'm thinking I would like to have children. I'm thinking, I've got a lot I still want to do.
Seeing my mother go through what she just went through leaves such a horrible aftertaste in my mouth, that should be even worse with each cigarette I have. I know it breaks so many hearts when i do.
She quit when she was in her early 30s. Colon and liver cancer at 50 was not part of the plan. Like the stroke she had when I was 14, the doctors can't ever name what exactly pulled the trigger, but if genes are an map outlining which roads your body might take, if they are an indication of what's in store, mine probably aren't the sort of thing I should ignore.
They say in the first five years after quitting stress and trauma can trigger relapse. I've only quit for two significant stretches of time out of the strings of attempts I've made, but in each case, where I started again, there were similarities.
I know the similarities, and I know cigs have never helped make anything better. In the worst times, they gave me something to do, something to focus on to dull the pain. Yes, I enjoy smoking occasionally, but at a pack each day, so few are memorable compared to the others: burnt up amplified addiction, making me short of breath, making me irritable, making me wonder if the smoke on the way to class doesn't linger and bother some stranger next to me, trying to learn, making me wonder which headache is going to be the headache, making me wonder which cells are already there, making me wonder how many more lines will be drawn on my face ...
Addiction is a terrible thing. This shit's evil, but I think knowing something for what it is could be the key to beating it. Maybe the key to beating it is doing so before it breaks you.
Labels: Addiction, Cancer, Quitting Smoking
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