SMOKING STILL

At 12 years old, I made the stupidest decision of my life. I stole cigarettes from my mother. I have no idea why I did it. I can't honestly say it was peer pressure or some idea of being 'cool'.

Like the young girl pictured here, I spent my time trying not to get caught, while I skipped school to sit around and pollute my lungs. I was an addict from the start.
At that time a pack of cigarettes cost 50 cents. There were plenty of places that would sell to underage kids and it was easy to keep a supply.

I never would have expected to have to dedicate an hour of labor each day to support my habit. Although the dangers of smoking were becoming apparent to society, tobacco was advertised on TV and the term secondhand smoke hadn't been expressed yet.

I got suspended a few times for smoking in school but I didn't really consider it 'bad' behavior.

How many of these nasty things have I handled over the past 40 plus years? My clothes, my hair, my body and my environment all coated in the stench of burnt tobacco. The windows of my car become so covered in film that driving at night is frightening. Cleaning them doesn't last very long.

My recent bout of bronchitis was a strong reminder of the damage I have been doing to my body. I continued to smoke even though I wasn't capable of inhaling, puffing away at cigarettes until I had healed sufficiently for my body to accept full drags of smoke into my lungs again. The damage is apparent in other ways too.

No amount of makeup can disguise the fact that I have been puckering up to these things for decades. I hate the mirror. It isn't vanity (well, only a little), it's the constant reminder of my self-destruction.

I also have Reynaud's which causes my hands to look like this when I am exposed to cold temperatures. Stress and vibration have the same effect. My tolerance for cold is only 68 degrees. True cold is even worse. The pain is extreme and I often cannot function during the winter months.

My future seems quite clear.

I have lost friends and relatives to emphysema. The idea of being attached to an oxygen tank is not one I relish.

To make things even worse is the awareness of the damage I cause to those who share my life, both human and animal. That's a load of guilt to carry.

And yet, as I sit here writing this, my pack of cigarettes is close at hand. I am not a stupid person. I know what I am doing, I know the consequences. So why do I still smoke? Is it really just to avoid the anxiety and edginess I feel after only a couple of hours of abstinence? These things cause me genuine pain and distress because I smoke them, but I continue so that I can avoid a little frustration? It makes no sense. That, my friends, is addiction.

Quitting drinking was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I tried and failed many, many times. Now that I am 25 years removed from that lifestyle, I feel tremendous pride and joy of the complete change in who I am due to that decision.

Perhaps, in being honest with you and with myself I can make a similar decision regarding tobacco. The fear of failure is ever present and the dread of those hurdles that I will have to cross causes me to hesitate in doing what must be done...yet it must be done eventually. I owe it to myself and those that care about me. Besides, I deserve better from me!