Congratulations to me! As of last Monday, I have completed nine years as a non-smoker. I must say that quitting cigarettes was the most difficult thing I have ever done. Right after I put down my cigarettes and decided to quit for good, I began to feel as if I were sick. Little did I know that the withdrawal symptoms, for me, would include flu-like feelings.
According to quittersguide.com, what I experienced was quite normal. They report other symptoms such as: irritability (sometimes extreme), insomnia, headaches, coughing, cold and flu symptoms, chest infections, dry mouth, sore throat, nausea, extreme tiredness, lack of concentration and increase in appetite.
As they report, the longer you smoke the more acute these withdrawal symptoms tend to be.
I started smoking as a young teenager and really picked up the habit during my junior high school days. Although lots of folks look back on their lives and blame such bad behavior as being caused by peer pressure, I do not. I hold myself accountable for my actions. I was a leader— not a follower. I smoked because I wanted to.
More likely than not, I started because my dad was a smoker. I can’t remember Dad without a cigarette in his hand. He smoked non-filter brands like Chesterfield Kings or Pall Mall, and he sometimes rolled his own, which not only gave him the nicotine he craved but turned his fingers a lovely shade of pukey yellow. Other than that, he was a very handsome man, always dressed to the nines and perfectly groomed. His silver hair was so striking— except for the yellow tinges due to nicotine stain. He tried to quit smoking many times.
In my youth, our house was always under a smoky fog, as was the interior of our cars. Yep, Dad smoked in the house, in the car and, frankly, wherever else he wanted to. There were no laws regarding designated smoking areas back then. In fact, smoking was touted as being glamorous during the ’40s and into the ’60s. Heck, even Andy of Mayberry and Lucy smoked on their programs. I also remember seeing Walt Disney on television puffing on a cigarette. Ah— role models!
After trying to quit smoking a time or two, I don’t think I ever really thought I’d be a non-smoker. I was a smoker, and that was that. I now believe that with nine years of being smober (the word is a combination of smoke and sober) under my belt, I truly believe I will never again resume the habit.
For those of you wondering what methods I used to quit, I offer the following— I had to find the right motivation. My reasons for trying to quit in the past had always been pretty run-of-the-mill: the cost of cigarettes, stinky clothes and hair, fear of cancer, chronic pneumonia and bronchitis, and the unhappiness it caused my husband and mother. Although they were all valid reasons and may be motivators for others, none of them worked for me.
I have written a time or two before about the one factor or motivator that finally did the trick, and I feel this is a good time to repeat the story:
About nine years ago, I found out that I had periodontal disease. It was painful, and I was afraid to undergo the cutting and suturing necessary to treat the condition. Thanks to my friend Robert Quintero, I went and saw Dr. Gregg in Cerritos, who put me through some pretty intense (although nearly painless) and costly laser dental/gum procedures to cure me of my dental issues. I haven’t had any problems since.
How is that a motivator?
Dr. Gregg informed me that if I didn’t quit smoking, I’d have to go through the whole thing again and again, and if I decided to keep smoking and not have the procedure repeated, I would probably lose my teeth. Now there’s my motivator.
With the genetics in my family (my mother is nearly 96 years old) I could live to be 100 years old. Dying doesn’t scare me, but living without teeth does. Ah, vanity. That was, and still is, my motivator!
Thanks to nicotine patches and a heck of a support group, I did it. I am a non-smoker.
