The Gorilla on my Back

I tend to have an addictive personality. I'm not proud of it, but that's the way it is. I suppose it's better to know and acknowledge than totally deny and overlook.

I'm a smoker. I have been on and off since I was about 20. I stopped when I was pregnant, not starting up again until both kids were older. I've quit on other occasions, sometimes for up to three years.

The first cigarette I ever smoked, I was 18. I sneaked one of my mom's after I graduated high school one day when I was at her house alone. I hid in the basement and lit up. My first thought was, "What's the funny smell and flash of light I saw before my eyes?"

The answer - that was my bangs that I'd just singed. It wasn't such a great experience. I took a few puffs, not even realizing how to inhale. I didn't see the appeal, and being so afraid of getting caught, I extinguished and hid the evidence.

For some reason, it didn't matter to me that I was 18 and I wasn't breaking the law. In fact, in my lifetime, it was legal for someone of any age to purchase a pack of cigarettes. It wasn't but a thing for someone's mom to send them to the store and get her a pack of Virginia Slims.

I tried it, luckily didn't set myself totally ablaze, and I couldn't say I liked anything about smoking. That was until someone introduced me to a Salem Slim Light. I didn't know menthol existed up until that point. I didn't know the difference. I didn't care to find out. But, I was the quintessential "good girl."

As most will tell you, quitting is the easy part. It's not starting again that is the killer.

It only takes me a few days of no smoking to fully appreciate what a nasty habit it is. Within two days, my sense of smell returned to the point the dog nauseated me and had to be bathed. My husband is a smoker, and I don't ever see that changing. The smell of his cigarette doesn't make me want one. The scent of the ashtray permeates my nostrils and gags me.

Physically, once I make it past that three day mark, I'm pretty sure I'm passed that part of the addiction. My body is no longer going through withdrawl from nicotine. It's the mental, and I'll go as far to say, the emotional part of the addiction that gets me.

We're all pretty much creatures of habit. Smoking was a habit.

When I sit at the keyboard to write, I'd have a smoke when I finished what I was working on. If I were doing some housework, and decided to take a break while the floor dried, I'd have a smoke. I'm not totally sure my car would actually run properly while driving alone if I didn't smoke at the same time. When I get done eating, I think hmm, a cigarette would make a fine dessert. A cup of coffee and a menthol cigarette, well, it doesn't get much better than that.

So, as you might have caught the drift, I decided once again that it's time to quit. It's only rational that I'd throw something else on my plate since I'm battling with some weight gain. I also decided to cut diet soda out of my daily routine due to the fact that artifical sweetener can contribute to one's appetite and bloating. Naturally, I'm going to test myself to my limits and add no smoking, too.

I'm not exactly quitting because I fear for my health. I wish I could say that motivates me, but that's only a small part of it. A lot of it is financial with the rising cost of gas, I don't even want to know how much it'll cost to heat the house this winter. I'm trying to cut corners wherever possible, and it seems like smoking is less important than say cable internet.

I have a feeling there's something that definitely separates a smoker from a non-smoker. What makes me want to smoke is the mental part of it. Even if my brain isn't calling for the nicotine fix, my hands and mouth want to welcome a cigarette. To me, it was an enjoyable experience.

I've never been the type of smoker who MUST.HAVE.A.CIGARETTE.NOW. I never excused myself from a non-smoking facility to go smoke outside. Even when I worked, I only smoked in the evening at home. I think it's fair to say that I've definitely had a mental/emotional addiction to smoking.

Non-smokers will never get it. There's a lot more to just lighting a cigarette and smoking it. Since I've stopped, I feel as though I've buried my best friend, as pathetic and illogical that sounds. It gave me something to do with my mouth and hands for all these years. Albeit they don't call them cancer sticks for nothing, cigarettes were at my side for a lot of pivotal moments in my adulthood.

So, I'm taking Chantix that I got back in the fall, but didn't follow through with. Because, honestly, it wasn't the time. The few days I did take it, the Chantix gave me some freaky dreams. Not freaky as in most will say weird, vivid, and lucid. But freaky more in a nightmarish, off-the-charts sort of way.

One night, so far, I dreamed that I was wearing footie pajamas in the back yard of my youth. Ted Danson and most of the cast of "Cheers" were having a cook-out.

Last night, I dreamed that my friend and I were chosen to be on Flavor Flav's new show. At first, I was totally appalled because there was no way I was going to be on a dating show because I was married, and secondly, I had no desire to date Flavor Flav. It turned out that it was a stand-up comedy reality show, and the only thing my friend and I had to do was sit in the audience and watch. I was relieved. So far, no nightmares like the last time, though dreaming of Flavor Flav does come frightening close.

Anyway, I sure do miss it, and I'm trying to be an adult and make a wise choice. Technically with the Chantix, I should continue smoking for a week, but I haven't. It's not that I don't want to, but I'm trying to be bigger and stronger than this monkey the size of a gorilla that I've carried on my back for so long.