I smoked for 18 years.
tried to quit twice during that time. And failed!
I was very shocked at myself when I couldn't just quit. I had always thought that I was a reasonable person and a strong person. Nothing external could really control me...or so I thought.
Failing to stop smoking was a real eye-opener about myself. So I didn't try again to quit for the next 13 years.
This time I succeeded. That was 1982.
I was living in Japan. My life revolved around when and where I could have a cigarette. Since I was a teacher and could not smoke from 7:55 until 10:00 a.m. (that's a two hour stretch!), I would have 6 to 8 smokes from the time I got up until my children came into the classroom at the morning bell.
I very, very seldom kept any children in from morning recess, either for a discipline action or for a scholastic failure. If I kept any children in, then I would miss my two cigarettes in that twenty minute break. Isn't that awful?
Field trip days were especially terrible. I've been known to get my children all involved, have my parent chaprones all assigned to special groups and then slip off to a restroom for a quick puff... and feel very guilty about it! I wasn't negligent, but I certainly wasn't being professional.
In February of 1982, I got a particularly bad cold. Smokers' colds tend to be pretty bad. But this one was awful. It felt like a foot was standing on my chest, a heavy pressure was keeping the breath out of my body. So naturally I couldn't smoke. I tried and it just made the pain more uncomfortable.
I missed several days of school and many, many cigarettes. In a week, I started getting better. It was then that I realized that I hadn't had a cigarette in more than 7 days! Wow! What a great time to stop smoking.
So I went outside - without a coat! The tempreature was probably in the 30's. After I got kind of chilly, I went back inside and went to bed. After all, I was sick. I spent that week end in bed ... and kept going out two or three times a day in short sheeves. You see, I reasoned that if I kept my cold, I would not be able to start smoking again.
As I regained my health, the desire for a drag was there. So I lit one cigarette and took one puff...then another! Damn! I rolled the fire off the end of that cigarette and put it away. I was so stupid!
This action went on for weeks. I would have only two cigarettes a day, but I would light each one 5 or 6 times. Blah!
I called one of those crisis help numbers that specialized in smoking ceasation. That lady talked with me for more than an hour. She explained that after all this time, I probably had all the nicotine out of my system. All I needed to conquor was my brain - beat the habit. She made so much sense. So I hung up with a new attitude. I was strong enough to control my mind - wasn't I?
I went several days with no smoking. Sometimes I would get a cigarette and just hold it in my fingers. When I was out socially, I always tried to place myself next to a smoker - get as close as I could so that I could enjoy their smoke. Blah!
I well remember my last cigarette. I had gone over to the Officers' Club for dinner. There was a new couple. They had just arrived from the states. As I was being introduced to them, I remember drumming my fingers and looking at the table. I was pretty rude to these new people. my comments were terse and clipped quite short. I was just thinking about smoking.
So I brusquely got up from the table and left. I went home and had one whole cigarette, smoked it pleasantly from begining to end and enjoyed every puff!
There's nothing any worse than a reformed smoker. I could go on and on.
But I have to say that I give credit to one particular friend who guaranteed that I kick the habit. On the date of one month without a cigarette, she had a cake made for the teacher's room at school. She had ordered a box of candy cigarettes from the states. Then she ordered a small cake with three tiers. The candy cigarettes served as the columns to hold up the top tier and others were stuck around in the icing here and there. It was a terrific way to celebrate one month.
On the afternoon of my third month, I drove up to my quarters and noticed that something was different. Pat had taken a piece of yellow bulletin board paper, at least 20 to 25 feet long, painted a slogan of congratulations and taped it to the side of my residence! That sign was HUGE.
But on the date of my six months without a cigarette, I was in Kentucky visiting with my parents during summer vacation. The local florist drove up with a small bouquet for me. My mother got SO excited. I had received flowers from a friend to celebrate kicking the habit! So here I was....after 18 years of smoking .... and six months of no smoking. It was no sweet struggle! But I think the flowers clinched it.
