366 days

Today is November 28, 2012. On November 28, 2011, I quit the cigarettes. It was a Monday at 4pm; today is a Wednesday and pretty unremarkable (except a friend of mine did say something funny. He said, "I'll see you guys Thursday at the latest...." And I was like, "Tomorrow's Thursday.... So you'll see us tomorrow.")

Anyway, the main ideas of this log entry: Attrition; Self-deception; and Success.

My friends, this is a war of attrition. All of you who have quit smoking (and many of you who have friends that have quit - or worse frenemies) know what I mean: pain, exhaustion, self-loathing, distraction, and inevitably defeat.

Occasionally, I hate that I don't smoke. Maybe it's the part of me that listens to Katy Perry and wants to date the hipsters, but sometimes I still want to light up, or tell others that sometimes I light up. But that's just not true anymore; there is only used-to.

That's the attrition kicking in. It's what's left over when the nicotine can now only be found in your hair. So as not to be tempted by some cool potential Jean's-future-hipster-boyfriend into pretending like I've never been a quitter, i.e. tempted into smoking again, I uninvitedly tell everyone I meet that I quit smoking. No one really cares, but thankfully everyone is really nice and exclaims impressed and encouraging sentiments. I love the Midwest for this reason if no other (of course there are others - flannel, beer, snow, seasons in general, hipsters [mentioned above], cheese, and Prince to name a few).

Someone has to lose this war. And obviously, it will be bad if it's me. But here's the reason I shouldn't win this war: self-deception. I want to smoke cigarettes on my own terms. Mostly, I want to smoke cigarettes when it's socially convenient, i.e. at parties that are lame or at parties where cool people are smoking. So, if I conceptualize myself as a winner and that I have defeated tobacco, I run the risk of thinking, mistakenly, that I am now capable of smoking when I want, and then not wanting to smoke later. We can all see where this goes: one cigarette not followed by buying a pack will lead to another solo cigarette to another to another to buying a pack to share to buy a pack to hog.

What a frickin' waste it would be. I can't have anymore wisdom teeth removed, guys - they took 'em all! So let's not go there; I'll not be a deserter.

Ok, so that's the self-perception/self-deception predicament. But here's the reality: I won, bitches. Those cancer sticks can suck it, because I ain't suckin' on 'em.

I understand if you don't understand. Just think about the movie Inception. That is my mind, layered like dream-thievery. The deepest level has to keep fighting this war of attrition because, if I don't, greater weakness will be open to attack. But, surface level Jean can acknowledge that it has been 366 days without a cigarette and that it is exceptional. No patch or pill and no relapse.

This chick's got quitting down!
(Except when it comes to coffee, netflix, cookies, facebook, shoes, and cardigans).

Quitter's Log 1/21/12

Have I addressed the phenomenon of coffee and cigarettes? I’m sure (almost) everyone who quits the cancer sticks has to face this at some point on their smoke free journey. I thought I would reach that fork in the road much sooner.  I drink coffee to the point where I can no longer hide behind the fancy “antioxidants”. It's just straight bad for me, the amount I drink. But my intake has increased since I stopped smoking. I wasn’t surprised: it provides a chemical stimulus and an oral preoccupation.  Plus, when I was still smoking, I found that I didn’t’ actually love the sensation of the two together. Coffee and cigarettes left my mouth feeling like an ash tray that someone poured day-old coffee into.

But I sit here today, sipping my café au lait and thinking to myself, “Mmmm…cigarettes.” Ok, I know it is unlikely that I’ll start smoking today. But regardless, good thing I don’t have a pack on me, right?

Ha! Wrong. It doesn’t matter because there is a gas station across the street from this (super cool, it’s totally my favorite in Minneapolis) coffee shop.  50 feet away I can buy cigarettes to enjoy with my coffee. It might actually be less/more than 50 feet, I’ve always been a horrible judge of distance. 

But have no fear; I don’t intend to march over there and purchase the most addictive substance on the planet….

Or do I…?

Quitter's Log 1/7/12

Love the internet. Today, I had it do some basic math for me. Since I quit 40 days ago, I’ve saved $97.50 and am thrilled about it. As I venture into a new phase of my life (a phase with my own apartment) I’m realizing more and more how much I am glad to have what will be $900 or so at the end of the year. Of course, I’m not creating a travel fund or a New-And-True-Non-Smokers fund. I’m just throwing it at other things, like rent. Or I will.

Do I have anything else interesting to say about this tonight…? I think that’s all. So, in sum: I didn’t smoke 323 cigarettes and I’ve “saved” almost $100.  2012 is off and running. (Get it? Because I don’t smoke anymore.)

Quitter's Log 1/2/12

It’s a New Year, and on the celebration of this New Year, I said something clever. Here is a story of my cleverness:

Amos, Terra, and I were cheers-ing to 2012 and the elusive resolutions made by most. Between the three of us, however, we came up with some neat originals not 60 minutes earlier. We covered awesome feats like a new career, learning tennis, and have a Cool Moments jar (writing note-worthy experiences of the year and keeping them in the jar). Not a mumble was said about losing weight, hitting the gym, saving some money, or quitting smoking. Those of you who are new to the Quitter’s Log might not know this but I used to be a smoker. That’s right, not so long ago I was puffin’ a sweet one seven times a day. But I quit 5 weeks back, and haven’t smoked at all. So an hour after the ball dropped in New York, and the three of us were bantering about our awesome resolutions and how atypical they are, I was all “Quit smoking: check. Did it, bitches! “ And my friends were like “Haha. Jean. You’re funny and clever.” 

As it turns out, that story kind of sucks. When I read through it, I realize it sounds super lame (and like bragging). Come to think of it, I’m not even sure that “clever” is an appropriate word at all. But I don’t even care. My New Year’s resolution was not to quit smoking and it’s not because I want to continue smoking. I quit before I turned 24 and before the calendar caught up to 2012. I feel great about this, and don’t give three licks that my story sucked. 

So, now that I’ve dulled you with a boring story and a spurt of conceit, I’ll digress a bit on the actual significance of this post. Today, January 2^nd, 2012, marks 5 weeks. FIVE WEEKS. Mull that over, and then spit it out quick because it is disgusting (but impressive, I know). These have been perhaps the strangest five weeks in my living memory. I cannot express more fully than I already have how disorienting the last month has been. But five weeks, almost to the hour. What, what!? 

On a related note, last night I said goodbye a friend as he return to reality and I remained in the city that knows-your-name-and-traps-you-in-asinine-small-talk-for-what-seems-like-hours-when-all-you-want-is-to-pay-for-your-latte-and-get-out. I had made it through Christmas eve, Christmas day,  New Year’s eve and almost through New Year’s day without experiencing a craving or running into a trigger that had been strong enough to really tempt me. But here I was, in my car, alone. Not a minute had passed since the last hug and the fond farewell to a friend. And like an Ancient Chinese watercolor, the waves of cravings came on. The picture of the moment was overwhelmingly represented by angry (and foamy) waves, and what was left to be painted would barely make a stroke on the canvas. It was unexpected, completely so. I had never even considered the sense of loss as a trigger. But hey, there it was. Have no fear though; I made it through to the other side without adding nicotine to the endless list of Things Consumed during the Holidays that Are Only Okay Because It’s the Holidays.

Quitter's Log 12/13/11

Saturday was my 24th birthday. My friends and I went to the Foshay Tower in downtown Minneapolis. Swanky is about the only word I can think of that appropriately describes the two bars located there. Prohibition and The Living Room are expensive and “cool”. And here, in the “cool” environment with all the “cool” city dwellers, I really wanted to be a "cool" smoker again. Now, the weird thing is that I didn’t notice any insane cravings or triggers of the standard color. Except, of course, for when we stepped from the cab and into the haze of smokers’ smoke outside the main entrance. Most civilians hate this. I, on the other hand, really enjoy the comradery of the outside smokers club. On Saturday, I did not want to be smoking, but I wanted to be a smoker.

But to get back to my original point, they’re all so cool. Now I know smokers are not all gems. I’ve over heard my share of inane conversations on the smoke break. And I also know that the cardinal rule of doing cool things is that you don't talk about how cool they are. And it is decidedly less cool to do cool things because they're cool. So I'm left just being that lame kid sitting at the cool kids table. But I digress, what I am saying is that there is something very hipster about smoking in the 21st century. And in Minneapolis, Hipsters rule the streets and coffee shops (the smokers' paradise).

Now, as I stated yesterday, I’ve been feeling like a piece of fabric winding itself into a tight knot. I cannot escape the constant desire to hold a cigarette again. But, oddly, I don’t think that I will. I’ve pretty much made up my mind here and while I know I’m not exactly the most self-disciplined individual I have my moments.

So, I’ve told one of my darkest secrets. I smoked to be cool. I really liked smoking and hanging out with smokers and talking about smokers’ problems and smokers’ rights. Oh, it was a great community to be a part of. I’m going to miss it. And I already know that I am going to try to keep at least one foot out the door: (get it, because smokers always have to go outside).

Quitter's Log 12/12/11

Two full weeks without a cigarette. Life is a little strange. The pain has mostly subsided from my jaw and I can now imagine smoking again. Which makes the choice to remain a non-smoker that much more tedious. I feel like my brain is cringing pretty much throughout the entire day. I managed to go outside with Sarah today three times. I took my tootsie pop and loitered with the smokers (which, if I am going to be honest, has always been part of the draw, loitering that is. Nothing beats a good loitering). 

The point is: Still not smoking. Yay. Maybe I still won’t be smoking tomorrow.  While I acknowledge the fact that I have not lit up in 14 days as an accomplishment, the fact that I don’t really want to be a non-smoker makes the whole experience kind of bizarre. It’s like, I don’t know, I’m following the motions of quitting but doing so resentfully. I have no one to blame but myself (a theme mentioned last week) and I do blame myself. Every day I feel mad at myself. Kind of like how you feel when you decide not to wear rain boots even though it’s raining. In the morning, you can even see the rain outside your window but you think it’s probably not that bad, that the rain will lighten up. But it doesn’t. You just end up soaked and your toes get all crinkly and uncomfortable. It kind of ruins your day.

Quitting smoking is like that. Every day. Every day I decide I don’t need my rain boots. And every day it rains and rains and rains and rains. And then it rains some more. What you think will be a three day thunderstorm turns into a lifelong monsoon.

Quitter's Log 12/8/11

I’ve had soup and mac 'n' cheese for 6 days straight. And people like Shannon tell me they ate a hamburger the day following a tooth extraction. Ugh! Well, I want a cigarette! Can I have that? Is that a good idea?
Of course, I know the answers: no and no. Even a child can answer them easy as pie (the beauty of a leading question) but that’s the thing about addiction. It has nothing to do with knowledge. Not. A. Bloody. Thing.

Yesterday was bad. I was not happy with anything or anyone (except Sarah who managed to make me laugh at my cantankerous self) and, despite the fact that I recognized how badly I wanted a cigarette, I failed to see that it was my overwhelming urge to light up that made everything else feel like cheese on a grater. I didn’t fully understand what my problem was (aside from wanting a cigarette the way a bear wants honey even despite the stupid bees).

It has been my first legitimate bad day as a nonsmoker. Those first 72 hours, the ones everyone tells me will be the worst of it, had nothing on yesterday. I don’t know why it was easier in the beginning, but I think it has something to do with the surrounding circumstance. I knew I wouldn’t be able to smoke while in recovery, so I was only focusing on a chunk of a few days. Honestly, I only envisioned myself as a quitter for a week.

But now that week is over. If I want to smoke I can. There is nothing to keep me from what I want but myself. And so, logically I am angry with myself for being in my way. I didn't even realize it on my own; not until later that night when I was on the phone with Lizzie could I even try to articulate it. Speaking objectively from a health and wellness vista, this is a good point. Anyone around me would say things like “That’s great! You’re doing so well, quitting is so hard. I guess you were finally ready, huh?” And I’m like, “What do you know? I don’t want to quit. Not even a little. This is stupid.” I kind of feel like Barney Stinson. I’m constantly attempting to justify behavior that has no justification.

Whatever. The point is this: yesterday, I was mad (and I mean pissed) at myself for being strong enough not to succumb to cravings. Has any other quitter experienced that?