Starting Over and Over

As a recovering alcoholic, I’ve been sober twenty-six years, I know first hand how cunning, baffling, and powerful addiction is, and I know that recovery is possible as long as you are ready, willing, and able to commit to it.  It seemed so easy for alcohol, but not so for smoking.

I quit smoking for over six months, more like seven, and I felt great, my energy levels were high and I started walking again without too much discomfort, life was great.  I took for granted that I had beaten my addiction and that I would never smoke again, I was wrong.  A bad day came along, at least in my mind it seemed like one, and without thinking I picked up a pack of cigarettes and smoked.

I haven’t smoked consistently since then, I manage to get a few days of being smoke-free in, but before long, I smoke again.  I know I’ve disappointed people along the way but none can be more disappointed in me than I am.  I’ve tortured and beaten myself up mentally, and I’ve cursed the symptoms of smoking, the shortness of breath and the persistent cough, but in a weak moment, I’ve lit up again.

Working in the addictions field, I know that the best way to treat addiction of any kind is to identify and deal with the root causes, but along with addiction comes denial which can easily mask the principal cause of the problem.  I’ve always found what I considered a valuable excuse for smoking, I’m stressed out, I’m angry, I’m having a bad day, etc., but the real reason I smoked remained hidden from me until yesterday, or at least I didn’t want to admit it.

The topic of my smoking came up in two different conversations with two different friends yesterday, and in both conversations, the real reason I smoke rose up and slapped me in the face.  You see, it’s so easy for me to go without smoking on days that I work, but on my days off, the urge to smoke is overwhelming.  Why?  I smoke because I’m bored and lonely and because smoking numbs those feelings.

I have nobody but myself to blame for my loneliness, I’m the one who for the most part opted out of a social life making all kinds of excuses for staying in when others invited me out.  I was so convinced that I was a loner, and that I was happy sitting at home writing, reading, or resting, that I minimized my boredom and my loneliness. 

Awareness, they say, is a big part of the solution, and with that awareness, I make a conscious decision to reach out, step out, and do whatever it takes to rebuild a social life.  As for quitting smoking, I start over and continue to start over as many times as it takes until I finally get it right.

Love you all!

Luc

Wasn't That A Nightmare

As I write this, I have an incredible urge for a cigarette, just one I tell myself, and then I will give away the pack, but I know from experience that there is no such thing as just one cigarette, one is one too many and a thousand is not enough, just like it is with alcohol which I quit on August 8^th, 1991.

Addicts like me are overly intelligent people, sort of, because we can rationalize our behaviors in many elaborate ways, we are wired that way, why else does an addict keep using when their whole life has turned upside down.  Then, there are the using dreams, dreams that seem so real that they can sometimes lead to the addict picking up again because of the emotional turmoil they leave us in.  I’ve had more than my share of those dreams since I quit smoking, much more than I had when I quit drinking.

There is one dream however which reinforced my resolve to quit drinking and it is that dream that I wish to relate because it scared the hell out of me.  The way that an addict thinks, it is a very plausible scenario, one which I have no desire to experience.

It is early evening and I want a cigarette, just one I promise myself, I will have one and ditch the pack.  There is a problem though, I live in a small town and everyone knows me, they know that I have quit smoking and if I walk into a local convenience store to buy cigarettes, I will be recognized.

A brilliant idea strikes me, if I walk across town there is less chance that I will be recognized, so I travel to the farthest extreme of my hometown. Once I arrive there, I get a rational thought, it’s not that big of a town so someone might recognize me there as well.  Where to go so I won’t be recognized, a thought strikes me, there is a bar next door and I haven’t drunk in years so chances are nobody will recognize me there so I go in.

I walk up to the bar and ask to buy a pack of cigarettes but the bartender shakes her head and tells me that she is not a convenience store and that unless I buy a drink, she can’t sell me a pack of cigarettes.  I turn around and start walking away but a crazy thought enters my mind, I really, really want a cigarette so I turn around and march back to the bar, order a drink and cigarettes and without even thinking about it I sit down to enjoy both.  As time goes by, I have another drink, and then another one and my demeanor started to change.

Someone insults me and I throw a punch, several punches follow and before I know it the police have been called and I am taken away in handcuffs.  I spend the night in jail all because I wanted one cigarette.

Now those of you who have no addiction will likely dismiss this story as cute, perhaps funny, but for an addict, this type of thinking leads to this type of behavior, and this story in different forms repeats itself almost nightly.  Addicts are powerless over their substance, whether it be alcohol, cocaine, or even just a cigarette, I am powerless over alcohol and cigarettes.

I woke up from this dream sweaty, and quite upset.  It felt so real, and it could easily have been.  Since then I remember this dream every time I get a craving and amazingly, my craving passes.  There, I feel better now, pass me the bowl of trail mix and I will be okay.