On Quitting

I'm losing my smoking habit and finding my skin feels like warm chainmail. I'm quitting for myself, but, of course a lovely young woman has her hand in my attempt to shed this self inflicted curse. Addiction snuck up on me years ago. Even still, I marvel at its subtle hold over me.

I have never thought of myself as a smoker. I haven't made a point to quit before largely due to this fact. Whenever I would reach for a cigarette, the part of my brain that should protect me against the undeniable threat of cancer is shut down by a hardwired chemical dependence. Smoking seemed romantic to me. Logic wasn't ever present enough to kill the desire. So it goes.

I'm working on ignoring the inhalant urge until I train my body not to feel the need based on environmental cues. Let's say an existential question has been directed my way. How am I supposed to express deep thought and honest consideration during the dramatic pause in conversation without a pull from our pure as poison antihero, the cigarette? I suppose I'll just have to take to furrowing my brow while twisting my mustache with my thumb and pointer finger.

Quitting has been the ultimate test of self control. Like training for a marathon it takes constant focus and attention. In this case, the marathon is represented by the rest of your life and the prize is just a longer race with less uphill battles and no guarantee of less pain. The finish line is certain death regardless of the path.

Along side the constant attention required to tend this lush garden of want lay the physiological effects of withdrawal. I am on edge and tired without the chemically induced normal. My body recognizes this feeling as a general hunger. When I don't eat as much as I should I experience similar pangs of misdirected angst. My voracious appetite is effectively a jackhammer of greed amplified exponentially with the now vacant castle of stimulus where prince nicotine used to reside.

Which one of my "last" smokes is it going to be that dooms me? If I knew, I'm sure I'd avoid that one. The fact is, it takes quite a lot to do damage to our fragile, but evolutionarily resilient, bodies. Sadly, one more smoke is never just that, until it is. As a rule, the only time I'll quit anything is if it is absolutely necessary and the gain will outweigh both the loss and peripheral damages. By all accounts this one should be worth it. It better be.