Because I know myself all too well. In the past my decision to stop smoking would usually come around after a long crazy weekend of partying and exposing my lungs to the smoke equivalent of a five-alarm fire and by Monday morning I would make the decision to quit. I would mentally prepare to go through the nicotine withdrawal. I would ready myself for the week of headaches and irritability and grouchiness and cravings and general unpleasantness. I would tell everyone that I had decided to quit so I could garner support. I would hit the gym and sweat out toxins and pop Advil and consumer bountiful amounts of water and drink cranberry juice and get plenty of sleep.
But then the fateful moment would arrive: Friday evening happy hour. I was very vigilant about not drinking during the work week when I would quit smoking. I would leave work and head directly to the gym and workout like crazy and exhaust myself and then go home and make dinner and just spend the rest of the uneasy night inhaling deep breathes of air to help give myself a rush of oxygen to my brain to help calm the cravings.
But happy hour? Well, that's where the downfall would happen. After a long week of hell, having a drink was a wonderful reward. I would drink and it would relax me and I would feel at ease with my decision to stop smoking. I had made it! I endured the nicotine withdrawal! I am on the other side of it! Hurrah!
But after a few more drinks my inhibitions would be lowered and my judgement would be clouded and I would inevitably start craving a cigarette. And instead of just getting up and leaving the bar, I would do the opposite. I would just order another drink. Because once you have enough to drink, you can talk yourself into anything. Smoke a cigarette after a week of withdrawal? Sure! Sounds like a wonderful idea! What's one cigarette?
And I would try to justify it in my head. I would think that I could just be a social smoker. I would just smoke when I was out drinking. Yes! That's it! I have found the solution!
So I would smoke a cigarette. And then I would end up smoking another. And suddenly I'm smoking the night away. Those first cigarettes would give me a head rush and my body would remember the delicious nicotine that would rush through my veins and I would wonder why I had ever stopped in the first place.
But then I would wake up the next morning and the nicotine withdrawal had been for naught. I would feel sick and awful and angry at myself for having smoked after going through an entire week of quitting.
And unfortunately that entire scenario was not an uncommon one. I have been through nicotine withdrawal more times than I care to ever have endured. Probably 25-30 times. At minimum. You could almost say I was a professional cigarette quitter. Because even though I was smoking, I knew it was bad for me and that I should quit. Anybody who is smoking knows it's not good for them, but you just ignore that fact because smoking is fun and dramatic and deliciously addictive. But the nicotine withdrawal is just terrible. It is one of the most vile and unpleasant things to endure, yet I would still endure the 3 to 4 days of hell almost every other month or so when I would decide it was time for me to "quit smoking" again.
And that's what led me to not drinking. I knew that if I ever wanted to successfully quit smoking I would have to hit the pause button on drinking. I figured a month would be enough time away. In April of 2010 I took a month off of drinking and endured the nicotine withdrawal and I went an entire 34 days of no smoking. Until I had my very first weekend at my summer house on Fire Island and I had copious amounts of alcohol and my inhibitions got lowered and my judgement got cloud and I smoked. And I didn't go back to smoking full-on right away, but over the course of the following weeks I was back to buying packs and smoking not just when I was drinking.
I knew I needed to put more distance between me and smoking and drinking. If one month wasn't going to work, maybe a little longer would work? So when March 1st of 2011 came around I knew it would be at least a month. Towards the end of the first month I decided to extend to 3 months which would end at my next birthday. I would turn another year older feeling healthier than I had ever felt before and celebrate my birthday with the my first drink in over 3-months.
However, by the time my birthday was approaching I had already endured two weekends at my summer share on Fire Island. Fire Island is basically Sodom and Gomorrah. It is one big hedonistic party. Nothing but smoking, drinking and partying goes on the entire time. And the panic that settled in when I knew I had to go out there and NOT DRINK?! I didn't know anything else on that island BUT that. So when I endured the first weekend and then a month later the second weekend out there and successfully didn't smoke or drink -- because I knew I could get through without doing those things -- something inside of me changed. I had conquered something I never thought I could. And that empowered me. I could do whatever I put my mind to. I could overcome any obstacle no matter how big it might seem. I just had to want to do it.
And so I decided to grant myself a very grand birthday gift: A year of no smoking and drinking. I would try to make myself the healthiest person I could. I would try to finally accomplish some things that I hadn't gotten done in life. I would try to steer myself down a new path and see how it went.
It is now over one year. It is the longest I have ever gone without smoking since I began smoking back in college. I have fully realized that in order to never smoke again I may never be able to have a drink again. I am okay with that. If that's what it takes, then that's what it takes. Because I sit here continuing down a path that's making me happier than I ever thought possible. And though there are some shitty days where all I can think about is having a drink and smoking a cigarette, there are some really amazing days. At the moment it's working for me. I never thought I would be able to say that.
I'm curious to see how things are when I celebrate year two next March...
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