my love affair with the coffin nail.
November 4th, 2008 § 2 Comments
i’ve been smoking since i was 17, and yes, i know that i was probably too young to know any better, but i wanted to fit in somewhere. i really didn’t fit in at high school. i was weird (okay, i still am a bit), i looked different, and i definitely had different ideas and beliefs and taste in music than most of my peers. while i was busy decidedly not fitting in at high school, i had carved out a small niche of close friends at church that i loved (and still do, even though we don’t talk as much as we used to). and when, as a teen, i found out that they smoked, i decided that i would smoke, too.
on a chilly september evening, i remember being frustrated because i really wanted to go see they might be giants down at bogart’s, but i had no idea how to get there, nor did i know anyone else who would go or could drive there. so i ended up going to mcdonald’s in milford with a few of my high school friends (one of the few times that we hung out outside of school). coincidentally, they also smoked.
when i look back on it, the odds for surviving my teenage years without becoming a smoker were greatly against me.
i remember thinking that i really wanted to impress my church friends, and i knew i’d end up coughing and/or hacking up a lung the first time i tried a cigarette. i also remember thinking that a good way to circumvent not “looking cool” in front of them would be to try a cigarette around someone else. or in this case, a few someone elses. so one of my friends gave me a cigarette and lit it. i remember pulling this really earthy-tasting smoke into my mouth and blowing it back out again. i thought “this is easy!” then my friend told me i wasn’t inhaling.
oh.
so when i tried again, and actually inhaled this time, then came the requisite coughing and lung-hacking. but by the time i finished the cigarette, i had the inhaling down to a science. i went on to learn how to french inhale, blow smoke rings, flick my cigarettes like james dean, and “pack” them so there were over 4 rings showing when i was done (this last may only make sense to other smokers).
over the last 14 years, i’ve tried to quit smoking several times, with various results. i’ve never really felt this insane urge or desire to smoke when i was trying to quit. i never became really irritable, and i didn’t handle writing utensils like cigarettes. i didn’t have to have candy nearby to alleviate whatever oral fixation those psychologists say we all have. part of me really thinks that i’m not physiologically addicted to cigarettes, and that it is simply emotional.
smoking is different for everyone, but for me, it is a constant. when i became depressed because i was dropping out of college (the first time…heh), i proceeded to get drunk and smoke. when i was going through a very weird divorce, i had cigarettes with me. after having some of the best meals in my life, i’ve enjoyed a cigarette afterwards (not unlike the obligatory post-coital smoke). when i went to australia and watched the most beautiful sunrise on a boat on the ocean, i was smoking a cigarette while i drank my tea. when i have the hours-long conversations on the phone with my best friend, i make sure i have plenty of cigarettes nearby.
cigarettes have been a constant in my life for 14 years now. they are not judgmental, they aren’t going to out-of-the-blue ask you for a divorce. they won’t tell you that you’re a bad person because you realized that what you thought was a real relationship, was just a rebound. they won’t tell you that you’re fat, or ugly, your opinions are silly, that you’re stupid and have no idea what you’re talking about, or that you’re completely annoying and just need to shut the fuck up.
at this point, they have become so much a part of my life that they are more than a best friend, they are a part of who i am. when i was going through some of the best and worst times of my life and i was completely alone, i had cigarettes. trying to divest myself of this habit would be as easy as cutting off one of my own limbs. i’m very much aware of the negative effects of cigarettes on my and others’ bodies. it’s constantly being pounded into my brain by media, friends, family, etc. (so much so, that when i tell people that i smoke, i think i’d get the same reaction if i told people that i defecate on public sidewalks).
“oh my god! smoking is bad for you??? thank you for telling me, i never knew that!!!” (grrrr.)
when i came over here in august, i only brought two cartons of cigarettes with me. in the states, that might have lasted me five weeks. over here, because i’m not smoking as much, they lasted three months. i had the last of my beloved camel lights on saturday evening. i’d love to say that i’ve been successful at stopping so far, but sunday night, i got some worrying news from my family (nothing earth-shattering, i suppose, but concerning to me nonetheless). and again, i felt so alone. i needed something familiar; a security blanket, if you will. but because i’m 3,500 miles away from home, on a completely different continent, long-term familiarity would be difficult to come by. and you already know the solution to my dilemma.
i don’t think that i’m ready to give it up yet. i don’t know if i’ll smoke my entire life, or if i may just one day decide to quit cold turkey. but right now, it feels like the only thing that’s constant in my ever-changing life, and some days consistency is the only thing i need to keep going.
£5.00 – £5.50 a pack over here, that’ll slow you down even more
heh. well, mayfair’s only £4.27. but even still…kinda bad when you consider that a carton of smokes (10 packs) in cincinnati costs about £18. :/