Quitting Cigarettes (Again)

I’ve never considered myself a “smoker” even though I’ve been smoking casually since I was 18. At first it started out as an oral fixation to keep me from eating when I had an eating disorder. Then, smoking became something to do when I went out drinking. Or if I’d travel to Europe, it only seemed culterally respectful to smoke. And when I did standup comedy, I didn’t want to sit through an entire open mic, and smoking with other comedians outside was a way of networking. Then, when I got clean, nicotine seemed like the only thing I could have, but when I’d smoke cigarettes, it’s like what I really wanted was to get high.

The truth is, cigarettes never really got me high, and I never really liked them, except when I was on amphetamines or cocaine. Otherwise, smoking cigarettes was more like chasing a high that didn't exist.

I don’t even like cigarettes.

I tried vaping for a while, but when you’re stone cold sober, even vaping feels like empty promises. Plus, based on what my body says, I’m pretty sure vaping is actually worse for you than cigarettes.

Allow me to pause for a moment and disclose that I am chewing 2mg of nicotine gum as I’m writing this.

Nicotine gum is not without its jagged compulsions, but I find it effective every time I quit smoking cigarettes. The truth is, nicotine gum is my favorite way to ingest nicotine though I have never tried the patches. Last fall and winter I was chewing the gum, so now with a fresh piece in my mouth and autumn approaching, I feel a twinge of nostalgia and comfort, which is a bit of a relief because it has been such a rough week.

My dog, Tupes has been sick. It started on Saturday night when he was having trouble breathing. I had bought a pack of cigarettes on Friday as a crutch and protective measure while reading tarot at the Marfa Lights Festival. I rarely buy my own pack of cigarettes. Typically, I bum a couple from my boyfriend, and that’s enough. There’s something too much about having an entire pack of American Spirits, smoking a third of a cigarette, putting it out after a few puffs, only to return an hour later hoping this time it will make me feel better than worse.

I’m a believer that the outside world reflects our inner world, and the present reveals the future, so it was not lost on me that as I had a full pack of cigarettes, my dog came down with a respiratory infection. Additionally, I was reminded that on both sides of my family, there is a history of lung-related medical problems which often ended in death.

I’m a master at rationalizing and justifying, telling myself I smoke American spirits, and I don’t smoke as much as my family members did, but a wise man heads instruction. Often, the things we refuse to look at lead to our unravelling. Plus, I don’t even like smoking cigarettes.

How do I know that quitting this time will last? I don’t. But I do know that I’m ready and willing to quit again. Just like I quitting narcotics, psychedelics and alcohol, I know to take it one day at a time and take it easy.

The good news is I have the gum, and I have valerian, and I have a High Power who has helped me quit drugs, relationships and an eating disorder. Maybe I should have mentioned my High Power first. Maybe I’ll give myself a break and surrender, once again, to the Mystery. Maybe I’ll put one foot in front of the other always striding towards doing the next right thing.

Just for today. That’s all I need: a recommitment to today. A recommitment to love, to nurturing myself as an act of service to the world because when I love myself, I am better able to love others.

That might sound grandiose: quitting smoking for the sake of humanity, but really what’s the difference between inner and outer, micro and macro? God is in the details, and God is either everything, nothing, both, or in-between.