Nicotine, Smoking
How it took 7 years to stop smoking
I didn’t really try to stop smoking until my mid 30’s. My new wife smoked lightly and seemed to be able to quit overnight… for me it took about 7 years to learn how to control nicotine addiction.
If you the reader is struggling with this addiction, what worked for me was “not to quit” but delay. Try this… next time you want a cigarette - give yourself permission to smoke, but count to 5 seconds before you light up. This technique has worked for me… After a week or so - move the 5 second permission mark to 10 or 20 seconds… build up your own personal tolerance… This took almost 7 years of adding seconds, minutes, hours, days etc… but I stopped beating myself up as a personal failure.
If you the reader is struggling with this addiction, what worked for me was “not to quit” but delay. Try this… next time you want a cigarette - give yourself permission to smoke, but count to 5 seconds before you light up. This technique has worked for me… After a week or so - move the 5 second permission mark to 10 or 20 seconds… build up your own personal tolerance… This took almost 7 years of adding seconds, minutes, hours, days etc… but I stopped beating myself up as a personal failure.
More about my addiction below, I may tend to ramble on as this was a major part of my life but the key to this part of lifes journey was to find a way to stop smoking....
I grew up in the world's largest ashtray - Las Vegas, Nevada. Both of my parents smoked, mom was a Salem gal, and I can’t even remember what my dad smoked. The constant haze of cigarette smoke was my normal. Around the age of 14, in the mid-1970s, I started sneaking my mom’s cigarettes. Back then, it seemed like everyone in Las Vegas smoked. Strangely, my brother and two sisters managed to escape the addiction.
In Las Vegas, an essential part of busboy and waiter training was to constantly clean the ashtrays at the tables. We paid more attention to the ashtrays than to the food. It was a city submerged in a cloud of smoke, gambeling, cocktail waitress, celebraties and I was right in the thick of it.
I joined the US Navy in 1978 and eventually found myself deployed on the world's largest floating ashtray - an aircraft carrier the USS Coral Sea (CV43). Once again, it seemed like almost everyone on the ship smoked. I have a poignant photo of my good friend “Jeff” with a pack of cigarettes tucked in his shoulder tee shirt, wearing a mess deck hat. To me this image defined the working sailor of the 70s and 80s. Another photo from my Navy days was of another shipmate “Randy”. He seemed to have a special charm with the ladies when we were docked on liberty or leave. Was it because he looked cool with a cigarette of was that just the my thinking at the time?
After my honorable discharge in 1983, I moved to San Francisco, hoping to resolve some personal issues otherwise I think I would have been a Navy Photographer until retirement. For the first time as an adult, I started breathing fresh air instead of second-hand smoke. But smoking was still a normal part of life for me, and I was up to a pack and a half a day. I loved driving with the windows down, cigarette in hand, as I cruised around town.By the late 80s, I realized I was addicted to nicotine. I used to believe I could quit anytime, but I soon discovered that wasn’t the case. I had an addictive personality. The few times I tried to quit, I’d be back to smoking by the next day. I felt fine, so why worry?
When Debra and I got married in 1988, cigarettes were the least of my concerns. Debra smoked too, but not like me. She’d have a few cigarettes on weekends or out with friends and family at nightclubs. Many of Debra’s family members smoked as well.
As the years went on, I started feeling a minor pain in my chest. We couldn’t tickle each other without me feeling discomfort. I struggled to keep up with Debra on nature walks in California and Nevada. I started cycling, but climbing hills left me winded. I had gained weight, now tipping the scales at over 200 pounds. I remember the bike I wanted had a safety limit of 180 pounds. I ended up buying a used Bianchi, an all-steel bike with a higher weight limit.
Despite many attempts to quit smoking, I couldn’t get past a few days or a week. I would bike up a nearby hill to buy my cigarettes, thinking the delay technique would work. If I still wanted to smoke after the climb, I’d buy a pack and coast downhill, cigarette in hand. I tried the nicotine patch, gum, and even self-hypnosis, but nothing seemed to work. The addiction had its claws deep in me, and it wasn’t letting go without a fight.
And then there is the 1992 or 94 Toyota MR2 ...- I was a few months into my 7ish year journey working at a Saturn auto dealer in California - After many successful months under my belt as a non-smoker I ran across this car at a Toyota dealer - newly married, decent job - and I thought the addiction was under control. At the Saturn dealer - we ran out of financial paperwork - I walked across the street to the Toyota dealer and there on the Showroom floor was a gray Toyota MR2, what was this car doing here? I spoke with the sales manager and come to find out this was a dealer demo and had not been sold as “new”. Also, I was able to purchase this about $2000 back of book (under invoice). We didn’t need a car like this at the time and I convinced my new wife to let me buy this car - She gave me the OK under one condition - If I ever got caught smoking in this car - it would become hers. Confident I had this addiction down and I would use this car as an incentive to not smoke - we bought the car.
Together we had such fun driving the curvy hills in Napa California - I had smoked a few times in the car when Debra wasn’t around - T top and windows down… how would she know? Well - I did not know the smell of cigarettes lingered in the car as I had become used to the smell - when pressed by Debra, are you smoking in the car? I had to come clean and admit Yes. OK - a deal is a deal - this became her daily driver.
Jeff - early 1980's working on the mess deck
Randy looking cool with a cigar type of cigarette -
ladies man at the time
My former Dream Car - early 90's Toyota MR2
Now this is where the story gets interesting and demonstrates just how powerful an addiction can be. Daily I would take our dog “Austin” into the garage, cigarette in hand (I could / did not smoke in our house, another deal at the time). I would look at my “Dream Car” - lit cigarette in hand wondering how to get the car back… really - how dumb I was, just quit smoking cold turkey like Debra did years ago. It wasn’t until years later - when our young teen nieces and nephew came over that the final straw hit the floor - for some reason - they would not cuddle with Uncle Ray upon a visit… Later Debra told me that they thought I stunk. The MR2 was totaled in an auto accident - and now I’m no longer going to enjoy time with my new family - this had to stop and I started the “delay” process over and over again adding months, and years to still not smoking, but under my control. Its now been more than 25 years since the last lit cigarette touched my lips… We had moved to Texas - Debra would follow me in our car at the time… I would cycle for miles until the desire to smoke was gone for the moment… sometimes late at night - auto headlights lighting a clear path on farm to market roads behind our home to my future freedom of this deadly addiction.