Sunday, August 6th, we closed our fringe show. That night has some bittersweet memories that are mine, and I won't go into, but there was a beauty in it. And a sadness. We'd put on our show, and had some small amount of success with it, and now it was over.
I found myself alone. Members of the cast and production team, each gone their separate ways, and there I was. By myself, as I so very often am. I couldn't bring myself to leave the place yet. I sat in the empty parking lot of the Fringe Factory, staring into the night sky, and smoking my cigarette. It was calming. As smoking so often had been over the past decade. It soothed my troubled soul, and allowed me to melt into something else. And so I melted. Lost in though, and the tragic romance of the whole thing. (There is always tragic romance, if you don't bother looking for it.)
In that moment, something strange happened. I...I dunno. I can't explain it. I was exactly the same, and forever changed. I didn't want to be a smoker anymore. I didn't have a reason. There was no compelling argument. There was no motivation behind it. There was no stimulus, or promise of reward. I just...
I didn't want to be a smoker anymore. So I quit. Right then and there. I quit smoking.
And then I immediately felt the panic that happens when you quit smoking. Even though the nicotine was still fresh in my blood, and the smell of cigarettes not yet gone from the air...I felt that thing, that you can only know if you are an addict. If you have been there. If you don't know the feeling, I can't tell you what it is. I can only say it's one of the most horrifying feelings outside of imminent threat.
So I started smoking again. Not ten seconds had passed between quitting smoking, and starting again. And I felt better.
And I felt worse.
I still wanted to quit. I was ready to quit. I didn't quit. Instead, I did something else. Something I decided would be just for me. Something that went unannounced, and without fanfare. Instead of quitting, I gave myself a quit date. This helped appease both the part of me that wanted to be done, and the part that was nowhere near ready to be done. I sat there in the night, overwhelmed with a variety of emotions that I won't ever discuss, and told myself that August 31st, would be my last day as a smoker.
This was all just me. I never...not once...discussed this decision with another person. I didn't talk about it. I didn't let anyone know. I left myself room to fail, knowing that since I was accountable only to myself...I was most accountable of all. I didn't want anyone else to know, because this was something that could be mine alone. And I carried it with me every single day, in my back brain pocket.
Once that decision was made, it was really very easy. I never felt anxiety leading up to my quit day. I didn't ever feel like I had to extend it, or change it, or change my mind entirely. I was still ready to not be a smoker anymore, and soon after, I actually began to look forward to it. The internal fear that comes with letting go, never came. I was going to quit smoking on August 31st.
The day arrived, and I had a not quite full pack. I smoked at my normal rate. I didn't change or adjust anyhing. The only thing I didn't do, was purchase the next pack on my lunch break, as I normally would. I still went ito 7-11. I bought a soda. Probably chocolate...because there should always be chocolate. The lady behind the counter knows me, and my habits, and when I didn't ask for a pack of my normal brand, she offered. I simply said no thank you.
That evening I went with a friend to another friend's house. Just to hang out and visit. I only had one cigarette left. Just one. One lone nail, sitting in its near empty box...and I was never not aware of it. I knew that it would be my last. It was a wonderful evening with friends. Finally the time came to go home. Upon arrival, I went to the back patio, as was my daily routine, to smoke. I didn't make a ceremony of it. I didn't try to draw it out, or take it slow. I didn't romanticize it, as I am prone to do with just about every goddamn thing I ever do. In fact, I was largely distracted with a home project, and worked on that while smoking...hardly paying attention to the cigarette at all. When it was done, I put it out, and emptied the little bowl I'd been using as an ashtray. I finished the project for the night, and went inside. And that was that. 10:30 p.m., Thursday, August 31st, I smoked my last cigarette.
My first true make or break moment came the following morning. The entire drive in to work, I fixated on just stopping at 7-11, getting a pack, and saying fuck it. It'd only been about 9 hours since the final smoke on the back patio. At this point, it wouldn't even be as though I'd quit. it was just a night of sleep without, and nothing would have changed. I wanted it. I wanted to make that stop so bad. It's been a VERY long time since I've exercised that kind of self discipline, but...
I didn't want to be a smoker anymore. I watched the 7-11 pass by through the window. I went to work.
That first day was awful. I knew it would be. All I could do, was look forward to 10:30 p.m., just so I could say that I'd made it a full 24 hours.
I made it.
I am still getting nicotine. Some people quit with the help of gum. Others the help of the patch. I have a vape pen, and it's working. Some may call it a cheat. I don't fucking care...it's working. I am grading my nicotine levels down...and will eventually put that away as well, but until I'm fully off the cigarettes...it's what I have. I am not a smoker anymore.
The second day was rough. Not as bad as the first, but...pretty rough. The third was actually...well...I could feel it getting easier. The fourth day was okay. The fifth was amazing. Almost easy. Habits were starting to die. Times that I would typically light up, were passing by unnoticed...until I noticed that I hadn't noticed. There was a certain thrill that I just may be able to get through this. Day six was hard again...frustrating after the ease of five, and today...
Day seven...
One week exactly...
Has been the worst day yet. I don't know why. I don't know the psychology, or biology, or anyology behind it..but...
Today was actually worse than the first day. Most likely because I expected it the first day, but thought that after a week, maybe it'd ease up a bit. Especially since day five was such a cake walk.
There are very real, very physical reactions. I am experienceing those things. Headaches. Shakes. Anxiety. Tight chest. Stomach tightening anytime I even think of eating. On edge. Oh my fucking christ am I on edge. Little things driving me crazy. I'm forgetful. Not because I'm forgetful, but becuase my mind is so goddamn focused on one thing, that nothing else is getting any mental attention. I need distraction, from the distraction of severe drug deprivation. It is literally the ONLY thing on my mind...and I can't fucking stop thinking about it.
I've been sucking the ecig, like a goddamn newborn on mama's tit, and I can't get enough. I can't stop the pain...both physical and mental. I wan a cigarette. I don't know that I've ever wanted anything so badly in my life. I know...in my stupid stupid brain, I KNOW, that with just one puff....all of those things will go away. I will no longer be on that edge. I will be calm. I will be relaxed. I will be able to think again. I will stop thinking about how much I want one, because I will have had one.
But...
But...
As badly as I want one...
(and sweet mother of god, I do)
I don't want to be a smoker anymore.
It's a funny thing. I've been asked many times, since I went public with quitting...why? Why am I quitting? Why now? What made me want to do this...now? And the answer is...
I have no fucking clue.
It isn't a health thing.
It isn't a money thing.
It isn't a self improvement thing.
There is no girl I'm gonna get...or reward I'm gonna achieve.
It isn't an anything.
I've never been able to give satisfactory answer to those questions...because I don't have one. Under that August moon, I told myself that I don't want to be a smoker anymore.
And so I'm not.
It sucks.
It sucks real bad.
I very literally had to lock myself away from humanity tonight, and that was very much the right decision.
I don't know what tomorrow will be like.
I don't know for how long I can keep not buying a pack...except...
I think maybe forever.
This is the worst thing I have ever done to myself, and I do fully aknowlege that I did this to myself...but....it's just what I have to do now, because...
I can't really tell you why.
I don't know why.
But I don't want to be a smoker anymore.
So I won't be.
Also...
Fuck you. Because I hate everything and eveybody forever.
Or at lieast until...
You know...
This also passes.
