"A pack."
"Ohh...that's not good for you. You should quit."
"...yeah, I know...I know."
So, I did.
I finally frickin quit smoking. I believe I read a statistic on how many people with mental disorders smoked and it was a ridiculously high amount. If I remember correctly, it neared 60-70% or so.
Let's start from the beginning. At around age sixteen, I picked up my first cigarette. About a month after, I learned how to inhale. What a genius thing to be taught.
In the 6-7 years I've been smoking, cigarettes have gone up $20 by the carton, after starting at $30. It's a shit load of money for a slow suicide is basically what I'm getting at. I mean, health risks didn't scare me. My family lucked out in that department. What bothered me more was the money I was putting in, the time I had to take out from my day to stop and smoke outside, the unpleasant stink it left on everything, and the feeling that everyone can tell you're a smoker immediately and the judgment that came along with that.
So, those were my reasons for stopping. What ensued I would never have guessed. Every smoker has heard the horror stories of withdrawal. Some have experienced them at varying degrees. I, thinking I was prepared for the worst (7 years of anxiety, withdrawal ain't got shit on me), went in full force. That's right. The two word phrase every smoker cringes at - cold turkey.
I figured, 'So I hunker down for a couple days, get a little pissy, watch some movies until the lightheaded cloudiness goes away and then I'll be good.'
Here are my experiences in those days written in the style of a post apocalyptic journal:
Day One: (A snow storm leaves me internetless and cableless)
I wake up. The sense of determination running through my veins. I've got this.
An hour passes. 'Okay, time to smoke....shit. NOPE.'
Two hours. 'CIGARETTE CIGARETTE CIGARETTE CIGARETTE'
Three hours. 'OH GOD WHY AM I STILL ALIVE?! THIS IS THE WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT ALL STOP'
Four to Sixteen hours. Position: Fetal. Status: Sobbing.
Symptoms: Lightheadedness, Despair, Anger, Apathy, Headache, Chills, Nausea, Loss of Appetite, Foggy Thinking, Memory Problems, Anxiety, Random Bouts of Crying, Cough, and just a general feeling of absolute shittiness.
Day Two: (Still no internet, all hope is lost)
Repeat of Day One. Slightly milder side effects. Still wish the world would go fuck itself. Is resolute in the fact that smoking isn't that bad.
Day Three: (Internet returns midday, that's when I pull myself out of bed)
Symptoms have lightened up a lot. Cravings have gotten much less desperate. Things are looking up. Dragged my ass on the treadmill and didn't suffer for it. Random bad mood comes on and strong cravings. Immediately reverts back to sobbing mess. Insist cigarettes are a necessary evil to be happy in a cruel world. Still don't give in.
Day Four: (Current Day)
Rediscovers the glory of caffeine. THE DAY IS FUCKING AWESOME.
The End.
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