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?

Quitter's Log 12/6/11

Yesterday at 4pm, I reached 7 whole days without a cigarette. And I know (according to contemporary convention) that I deserve a round of applause, pat on the pack, give a dog a bone, and all those things you say to someone who is going through something that you only know is impressive if you yourself have gone through it. Or, if someone else has told you how impressive it is. Then you can pass along your mildly condescending, though appreciated, congratulations and move on to other more interesting things. I know; a week in internet time is far longer than the average virtual attention span. I’m basically obsolete at this point.


I’m also feeling obsolete because I wanted to log about quitting smoking, but all I feel is this rage at my face. I want to talk about gooey food, and aches in my mandible. I want everyone to know that this sucks!

….But everyone does know. This being Minnesota, there’s nary a soul older than 25 who hasn’t been robbed of their teeth, (that is not to say that there are no individuals who reserve their teeth, just few) and this being the case, most people are inclined towards the “I know. It does suck. Don’t get dry sockets.” So now I have to face the reality that I’m arbitrary and moot. My toothless story is neither original nor interesting. It’s not even the story I set out to tell!

And so, back to the point of it all:

I really want a cigarette, but more than that, I want my face to feel normal again so that when I have the cigarette it will be as it should. I know this face of mine will only get worse if I smoke. And this knowledge makes me laugh at myself for two reasons. One, my motivation is less “it’s better for me to be a nonsmoker” and more” Gawd, I really do not want dry sockets”. And two, here I am, digressing on my wisdom teeth removal again.

If I want to stay motivated by the right reasons, I have to think about the money I will save. However on not-so-much-closer inspection, you can see that isn’t exactly what I mean by “motivated by the right reasons”, is it? Avoidance of pain and cash are at the top of my “Quit the Cancer Sticks” totem pole. You can tell me that it doesn’t matter why I’m quitting, just that I am. I’ll even let you say it without a big fuss. But it forces me to dwell on the question, if intention doesn’t matter than what does? Is it only the action of quitting that holds merit? Or are some reasons more virtuous than others? And, if there are more virtuous reasons, which one is the most virtuous? And, most importantly, as a quitter, how do I quit for the most virtuous reason?

I cannot argue that quitting because I want to save money is as virtuous as quitting because you’re pregnant. Nor that quitting because you’re tired of standing in the snow is as virtuous as quitting because you want to see you grandchildren grow up. And quitting because of the health risks barely makes sense at all. The risks to your health haven’t changed in a decade. Cigarettes are bad, they can (and probably will) kill you. This aphorism hasn’t changed, and people are still smoking. New smokers start and old smokers quit every day. This means that EVERY quitter has to have another motivation that ultimately tips them into the nonsmoker pool.

I know most readers will respond with, “Jean, you think too much. It doesn’t matter. It’s just great that you’re quitting.” But C’mon! It does matter, right. It has to matter. I think I should quit because it’s good for me. But that’s not why I’m quitting. There’s just a bunch of “should” all over my quitting plan.

Quitter's Log 12/4/11

I’m pretty loaded on Oxycodone today. I guess not any more than I have been any other day of this weekend, but today I’ve been a wee bit narcoleptic.  I can’t make it through an episode, let alone a whole movie without nodding off. Nor could I make it far into a chapter. I was pretty much grandpa on thanksgiving today.

This being the case, today is as boring as yesterday to report. The lovely out-of-doors and general boredom are heavy triggers to fight, but the persistent discomfort in my face has kept me from taking seriously any craving that appeared. Also, being asleep tends to leave me oblivious to triggers and cravings. So, it’s all good over here.

Quitter's Log 12/3/11

Triggers aplenty to be found on Saturday. It snowed. It snowed a lot. I love taking a smoke breaks in the snow. Thankfully, as has been a theme of this blog, the surgery prevented any serious attempts at lighting up. But what really carried me through peacefully was my friend Terra. We went for an evening stroll in the snow. And much like my trainer had suggested, it is better for me to go outside and face the habit than to sit inside and avoid it.

Quitter's Log 12/2/11

This morning they took my wisdom teeth, those thieves. I’d been elusive for about four years’ worth of referrals. But today I finally caved. My father wouldn’t let me come into Target with him when he went to get my prescription because he didn’t know “what I would do”. I had apparently fallen asleep mid-sentence while in the recovery room.  I do remember that the nurse and my dad had to help me walk to the car. Waiting in the parking lot, I drowsily passed out while my dad was awesome enough to buy me pudding, apple sauce, soup and ice cream. It was kind of nice really. I was so doped up and so “in recovery” that I didn’t even think of smoking. 

When I got home I finally read the pamphlet the surgeon gave us on our way out. (Well, gave it to my dad, I’m sure.) This provides instructions for diet, medication, rinsing, brushing, dry sockets, physical activity, and bruising. I skimmed through it, that is, until I came across four lines in the dry sockets section that said (in ALL CAPS): DO NOT SMOKE OR USE TOBACCO PRODUCTS AFTER SURGERY FOR SEVEN TO TEN DAYS. SMOKING AND USE OF TOBACCO PRODUCTS GREATLY INCREASES YOUR RISK OF “DRY SOCKETS”.

I shake a little to think of having to follow this particular instruction without a previous plan to quit the smokes altogether. Even now, four days off, and I’m still nervous when I think as far ahead as 10 days without smoking. Oh, awful.

It’s 4:45pm on Friday. I’ve made it through 96 hours without nicotine. Now, I don’t count today as a personal victory, so much as a convenient inconvenience.  Sitting at home on my computer and staring at the tube does not involve many, if any, triggers. The part of which I can take credit for is the lack chemical cravings. Those are absent because of my actions on Monday. Quitting three days before surgery was brilliant. Maybe this isn’t modest, but it’s damn true. 

So, no smoking or I’ll get dry sockets. No smoking or I’ll get addicted. Again. (Or is it that I’ll get not un-addicted for the first time?) Anyway, to further distract myself, in case I unexpectedly stumble upon a trigger – like boredom – I have beefed up my Netflix queue and my own personal DVD library. I’ve developed an extensive list of both seen and unseen including but not limited to Glee, The Hangover, the Walking Dead, Wolfman, Cry Baby, Shutter Island, Tron: Legacy, Morning Glory, and Golden Eye.  I am always looking for additions. So, can I get any suggestions for further viewing?  

In closing, I’m doing fine. Avoiding triggers and beating the cravings. I imagine that once I’ve moved past the recovery period, the triggers will pile up. I am NOT excited for those days to come.

Quitter's Log 12/1/11

I’ve passed the 72 hour mark. As I sit here writing, I’m at 79 hours with no nicotine. Feeling ok, but the nervous chewing persists. Maybe, it’d be more accurate at this point to call it compensation eating. And on top of that, I’m preparing to lose some teeth in the morning. I just munched serious on tortilla chips because I won’t be eating them EVER AGAIN. 

However, I cannot deny there is another motivation for chomping down on snacks at 11pm. It’s this compensation eating. I have to say that the oral preoccupation, however temporary, was satisfying. I know it sounds a little dirty; giggle if you must. But I mean it, as any smoker understands. The action of smoking the cigarette, or more particularly the inaction (because I’m not smoking anymore) leaves my mouth restless. I have been perpetually waiting for the habitual motion of smoking for three days. It’s been intense. The point here is that crunch of the chip was…. I’ll go with cathartic. Not exactly pleasurable, or what I wanted, but it undeniably released some tension.  

I was reflecting on this earlier today, that at 4pm I could expect this sudden rush of ease to come upon me. That, because “everyone” tells me the hardest part is the first three days, hour 72 would end and I would begin the new phase of my life as a born-again-non-smoker. Conceptually, I’ve been aware that this would not be the case, but as I cannot avoid my own mind, I inevitably allowed this expectation to form. 4pm came and went; I remained with my cravings. I know I don’t have it as bad as some. My co-smoker Sarah tells me she would have been crying long before hour 79. I know my brothers have all tried to quit at some point to no avail. But I’m…ok. It sucks, I want to eat EVERYTHING, and I want a cigarette like I’ve never wanted one. But I also don’t really want one. Not the way I used to. So, there’s that paradox for ya.

Please don’t begin your worrying now. It’s early still. the 72nd hour has passed, I'm smoke free and optimistic. Although, trying not to be delusional. For now, I am diligently fighting the cravings and acknowledging the triggers. This evening, I saw someone smoking and sighed out loud. OUT LOUD! I think this means I am still working day to day, which is obvious to anyone who is not oblivious (i.e. not me) because it has been 3 DAYS!

Quitter’s Log 11/30/11

3:30 PM and I’m running close up to the 48 hour mark. It’s kind of tense here, I can feel the twitches sneaking into my eyes and fingers. Pretty soon I’m going to look like Tweek Tweak from South Park.

Here’s a bit of what cooked up on Day Two:

Five people now know that I’ve quit the smokes. I almost made it six on the bus to work. A stranger boarded the bus at the Franklin stop and sat next to me, as they do. His tobacco sent was wafting into my nostrils; clearly, he’d been smoking while waiting for the bus. Smoking was my personal favorite activity to do while waiting for anything, but particularly the bus. So my first thought was that I only had one choice. I opened my mouth to say, “Hey. Sit over there, Smokey. I’m a quitter.” But I refrained, mainly because I’m not that rude, and also I didn’t mind the short bust of nostalgia. Can we have nostalgic episodes about something from only two days ago?

I did tell my mother this morning. A more appropriate person to tell, I know. She said “congrats!”, then, and here’s the important thing, she told me one of the things she did when she tried to quit smoking was see a hypnotist. Wait…. What?! I have a difficult time sewing together that image. But then again, she was in college at the time. I guess I did weird things in college too, like start smoking.

Last night and this morning has made clear at least one thing. The strongest and most consistent trigger rears its creeping head while I am in transit. I typically would smoke from the bus to work, work to the gym, gym to the bus, bus to the house. That’s a lot of cigarettes! And while preparing myself for the strength to defend against Smoke Breaks, I foolishly allowed myself to be surprised by the intense craving that hit when I left work yesterday, and then drove to Elk River. And then drove home from Elk River. And then to work this morning. Oh, pain.

But I survived, and my lungs stayed clear. (At least, no tar was added…on this day.)

47.5 hours without nicotine. Straight baller. My trainer gave me a tip that I think has helped with the restlessness. Today, rather than remaining at my desk when I would have stepped outside, I stepped outside sans cigarette. I’ve been walking around my building instead of lighting up. This might be the key to my success at Cold Turkey: replacing one habit with another, rather than simply being minus one habit.

So here we are. I’ve got some shakes, some jitters, a tiny pit of paranoia and what I think I’d call nervous chewing. But it’s worth it…. Right?

Quitter's Log 11/29/11 hour 24

4:00 PM

I am at the 24 hour mark. I’ve been reduced to soundscapes. It’s been mostly Japanese and Chinese theme music today. A little bit of Muzak thrown in. I think it is helping. The melodic predictability is assuring, or something.

Work is a drag. I’m starting to get snippy with co-workers. Three times since my last post, I’ve spontaneously realized my muscles were tense; cramping from the withdrawal, begging me to light up. Lucky for my lungs, I don’t have any cigarettes. Although I do still have a baker’s dozen worth of lighters in my bag(s). I suppose those should be the next to go.

The edge is on. The novelty: off. All I want is a cigarette. So, that’s great.

Quitter’s Log, 11/29/11

I had my last cigarette at 4pm yesterday. Monday seemed a good day to quit, for two reasons: one, because my teeth will be pulled this Friday and the suction caused by smoking, similar to that of sipping from a straw, can cause dry sockets – yuck. And two, because my pack was low, and I know I don’t want to try to quit while I still have some cigarettes. That would foolhardy. So, my afternoon cigarette came and went without much drama. I smoked alone. Told my boss it was my last when I returned to my desk. She’s thrilled; bought me tootsie pops to ease the oral frustration. It’s sweet. I don’t know if it’ll help. Which brings me to my point: I have never tried to quite before. I decided to try cold turkey for no more grand a reason than at heart I’m kind of lazy. It’s convenience. I can do cold turkey without having to remember a patch/pill/inhaler or seeing a doctor or spending any more money on nicotine. And bonus, you can’t deny the literary fun of going cold turkey while the house is filled with cold turkey. It is 10:20 am on Tuesday Nov. 29, 2011. I have now gone 18 hours and 20 minutes without nicotine. My boss and co-smoker think I should get the patch (soon!) but ….as mentioned before, the inconvenience. I will probably get some tonight, but maybe tomorrow…or Thursday. Which means it could be more than 72 hours before I have nicotine flowing through my blood stream again. The weirdest part of all is that I’m not sure how I feel. The habit of smoking was such a vast element of my enjoyment that I’m struggling to distinguish between the physiochemical withdrawal, and the emotional grieving. I hear this is common, that most individuals are more addicted to the habit than the drug. However, recent and not-so-recent studies show that nicotine can be as addictive as heroin or cocaine. Yickes. When I read things like that, Im all: “how can anyone succeed? I saw The Fighter, heroin is no joke. Christian Bale had to go to jail to kick it. I’m just blogging.” But then again, many people have quit smoking, so why the fuck can’t I? And here we go….