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blog, college, life, memories, quit smoking, smoking, thoughts, university
Universities around the United States are cracking down on smoking within the campus, I understand their tactics and as a former smoker I think it’s a great idea. Not to appease those nonsmokers who want to make sure no smoke gets anywhere near them, not to tell smokers they are doing something wrong, but to prevent those young adults that have yet to touch a cigarette from falling into the slippery slope that is “Social Smoking.” Seriously though, it’s either this or underage drinking and I honestly feel that drinking is a rite of passage; people tell 18 year olds they are adults who are old enough to live on their own, to fight and die for our country, but HEAVEN forbid they reach for a cold brew, yeah you can die for us but you don’t have the right to feel funny in your face until you are 21.
I began smoking around the age of 18 with hardly any provocation, which is sort of sad to admit since my Dad had given up smoking long before I even knew he had (for me and my future brother), and my Grandmother was cancer ridden due to hers, though she had reason to do it; I knew the consequences and I started anyway. I suppose that is how most people start now, knowing the consequences but saying to hell with that, I am in control of me.
I was burned
My smoking was “social” and it was compounded by the fact that my far too old for me boyfriend, crazy irresponsible best friend, and many other friends were basically chimneys. I was determined not to become addicted, determined to smoke on my own terms and for that I never bought a pack of cigarettes. The only problem with that theory, other than being a cigarette bum (i.e. asking others for a cig which might be a smoking faux pas, I am not sure), is that people who smoke want you to smoke with them. “You don’t have a cigarette, why?” Then they hand you one without you having to seriously ask, or they think you are cute and find it to be a way of communicating – having something in common, it’s a vicious cycle but I was fine with it my pocketbook wasn’t too upset either.
I had no idea the hold smoking had on me, since I didn’t do it in my home, away from my friends, never took breaks at work to light up, I really thought I was fine… until I tried to quit. I honestly had the makings of a real success story, the only time I needed to not smoke was out with my friends, or around random people smoking, it should have been easy but my conviction had to be there too and for me drinking and smoking had become “a thing.”
Mike deserves a lot of create for my ceasing, not that he forced me to choose, or told me he would leave me because it’s a horrible habit that will inevitably kill me, but he did inform me that he didn’t want to be around me when I smoked. That seemed completely fair, especially since I actually hated the smell of smoke (smoking is totally different for those who have never tried and to you I tip my hat, good job don’t do it), that might be why smokers get so pissed off when people who don’t smoke complain. Please it isn’t that bad, yeah if you are smoking it tastes and smells completely different; it’s like being on a train shoveling coal vs. standing on top of the train smelling the smoke coming out of it. I for one would certainly want to do one over the other.
The first few months of quitting was hard, still surrounded by people that smoked, still coerced by people that offered me a stick without any type of animosity
“No thank you I quit.”
Then a look of shock and a sincere “Good for you.”
But Niccole took it as a challenge, how much would I have to drink until she could break me?
I didn’t recognize the pull she had, nor what she was doing, until one day when I stayed sober and she drank like a fish. In a matter of twenty minutes she offered me a drag from her cigarette (a puff) at least twelve times, sometimes verbally, sometimes physically, and over and over I told her no. It got to the point that I was so pissed off I just left, she can kill her other friends without words.
Months later we went out again and this time I did drink, the only difference was I knew the game. Niccole and I are both mules, stubborn as can be and when we get an idea in our head come hell or high water we will prevail. Come hell or high water I was going to get her to stop offering me cigarettes at my most vulnerable.
She handed me her cigarette.
“No, Nicc I don’t smoke anymore.” As I had told her a million and one times before.
She shrugged waited a few minutes and handed it to me again.
I took it from her hand threw it on the floor and stomped it out.
“What the hell Sonya?”
“I am sorry; I thought you wanted me to put it out! Why else would you be offering someone that doesn’t smoke, a cigarette?”
She has never offered me another. I have had slip ups, but not in over four years, the only thing that disappoints me about the entire situation is that forever and always I will be a former smoker, when I never should have ever started in the first place.
-To those of you who have never smoked I salute you, more than those who have.
-For those who have smoked and quit, good job… smoking really isn’t worth it.
-For those looking to quit, but not sure where to start… think about your triggers and how you can curb them, otherwise you will be fighting your former self (the addict) almost the entire way.
-For those who have yet to quit and have no desire to, I understand and respect your decision… just don’t offer me a cig unless you want me to stomp it out.
-ducksoup- 