Sunday, March 25, 2007
In my dreams
I wasn't going to get into this, because it seems that every time I discuss my attempts at quitting smoking on this blog, I immediately start smoking again. However, as of now, I've gone since February 21 without so much as taking a drag, and since this quitting effort also represents my Lenten sacrifice, hopefully having my soul on the line will discourage me from falling off the wagon.
People often give me a lot of grief when I quit smoking, and this makes quitting more challenging. "Yeah, right," some will say, because I've tried quitting so many times before and failed. Others will joke about taking bets as to how long it will be before I'm back on the cancer sticks. Still others will get annoyed with me, because they no longer have me as a smoking buddy, and smokers LOVE company. It helps reinforce denial and, in the current climate that demonizes smokers to a certain degree, it makes people feel better about themselves in spite of their smoking. At least, this is how I feel when I'm smoking and one of my butt buddies quits, and the behavior of a few of my friends when I quit validates this. One time I quit smoking and one friend was shocked when I told her she couldn't smoke in my car anymore. "Are you fucking serious?" she asked. I relented because she made such a fuss, and I was smoking again by the end of the night. In 2005, when I fell off the wagon after 9 months of nicotine sobriety, another friend said, "Dude, I'm so glad you're back on the dark side." My judgment gets questioned when I quit, and I get praised when I relapse...how fucked up is that? Nobody cheers when recovering heroin addicts start shooting up again after rehab. I don't appreciate this sort of attitude, because it trivializes what has been a very miserable struggle for me over the past five years (when I really started thinking seriously about going smoke-free) and makes quitting even more difficult for me than it already is.
I smoked my first cigarette at age eleven, and became a regular smoker at 13. I've been smoking cigarettes for over half my life. I am severely addicted, and it is well documented that nicotine is as addictive as heroin or cocaine. I have a lot of smoker friends who refute this. Some of them say things like, "I never smoke at work," or "I only smoke when I'm drinking." Maybe so, but that doesn't mean you're not just as much of a fucking addict as me. Try to NOT smoke when you're drinking sometime. Some of these same friends have been saying that they're going to quit by a certain age or year or major event, and those milestones have come and gone and they're still smoking. In spite of my getting occasionally irritated with my smoker friends, I keep it mostly to myself, because I don't ever want to be the type of nonsmoker that runs around preaching at people. They'll confront this demon when they're good and ready, and it's not my job to be a self-righteous asshole and lecture them all about it. For one thing, it's not like they've never heard that smoking damages your health. For another, you can only quit when you really, REALLY want to, so saying patronizing shit like "don't you know that's bad for you?" or passive-aggressively coughing and/or dramatically fanning smoke away is pointless and fucking rude. I used to smoke like an industrial revolution-era textile mill, so acting all of a sudden like smoking is the most horrible thing a person can do is hypocritical and worthy of scorn. I'm not going to be that party-killing asshole. Unfortunately, though, the close link to smoking and socializing in my group of friends makes hanging out with them particularly challenging sometimes.
I went to see 300 with FalloniusMonk and Rack last week, and after the movie, they both promptly lit right up. As I stated before, I have no interest in lecturing them; FalloniusMonk in particular will have none of that, as she's one of the most defiantly proud smokers I've ever met and often states that it's all good because I'm going to cure cancer (for the record, dude, I've been out of the cancer biz for four years now...so unless they make a cigarette that gives you colds or polio, I can't help with that). She won't for one second tolerate any of that condescending, bossy, you-should-quit bullshit and I wouldn't dare run any of that by her even if I felt inclined to do so. However, it's still fucking hard to stand there and watch them take drag after drag, when I want to take just one SO FUCKING BAD. I tried to hang with them, telling myself that I'll have to get desensitized to seeing other people smoke, but I just couldn't take it. I said, "Okay-dudes-see-ya-later-I-gotta-catch-the-train-bye," and scurried off before I could freak out. I know they understand that it's just what I have to do.
However, while being around my smoking friends can be a challenge for me, NOTHING has been as difficult as sleeping. Yes, that's right...sleeping. It's not that I'm having trouble sleeping so much as I'm having trouble with my dreams. In order to not smoke and function as an only marginally psychopathic crazy bitch while I quit as opposed to a totally emotionally unstable maniac, I am on the patch. The patch is a pain in the ass, because it itches like crazy and falls off in the presence of the Palmer's Cocoa Butter Formula I have to slather on myself by the gallon to mitigate the itching, and because a side-effect is crazy, vivid dreams. In the past I've experienced a variety of disturbing nicotine-induced dreams in which I had dirty but romantic Thorn Birds-style sex with Archbishop of New York Edward Cardinal Egan, got a job teaching biology at Smith (about as close to hell as I can imagine), was accosted by Chris Hansen for internet perversion, married my high school boyfriend (sorry, THAT'S actually about as close to hell as I can imagine), was violently attacked by my lab mice, and ate my brother's dog. However, the most recurrent disturbing dreams I have are of me smoking. Last night I dreamt I was at my parent's house and their fridge was full of half-opened Parliament Light packs. I kept asking my mom to throw them away because they were so tempting, and she said she was keeping them fresh for someone else who might want them since I didn't need them anymore. I was begging her to throw them away and she was telling me not to be so wasteful. Then I smoked one, my mother started yelling at me that I was weak and pathetic, and I woke up.
This is about the twentieth dream I've had since quitting about smoking, and these dreams are so vivid, that I wake up wracked with guilt for relapsing once again. It's not that these dreams are otherwise believable; the notions that my mother's frugality would extend to stocking the fridge with P-Funks or that she would ever under any circumstances scream at me that I'm weak and pathetic are ridiculous, but the smoking part feels SO REAL. I really believe that I smoked upon awakening. Eventually I become more fully alert and realize that I only cheated in my dreams, and I'm still right with Jesus as far as my Lenten vow is concerned, but this is driving me crazy. I can learn to deal with being around smokers, because it's something I'm going to have to learn to cope with if I'm going to stay smoke-free and keep 90% of my friends (and I love them dearly whether they smoke or not, so that's not even an option), but being tormented with relapse every night is getting to be a bit much. I'd frankly rather live on Elm Street and have Freddy chasing me around every night in my subconscious than be confronted with pack after shiteous pack of Parliaments. Christ, does this ever get any easier???
People often give me a lot of grief when I quit smoking, and this makes quitting more challenging. "Yeah, right," some will say, because I've tried quitting so many times before and failed. Others will joke about taking bets as to how long it will be before I'm back on the cancer sticks. Still others will get annoyed with me, because they no longer have me as a smoking buddy, and smokers LOVE company. It helps reinforce denial and, in the current climate that demonizes smokers to a certain degree, it makes people feel better about themselves in spite of their smoking. At least, this is how I feel when I'm smoking and one of my butt buddies quits, and the behavior of a few of my friends when I quit validates this. One time I quit smoking and one friend was shocked when I told her she couldn't smoke in my car anymore. "Are you fucking serious?" she asked. I relented because she made such a fuss, and I was smoking again by the end of the night. In 2005, when I fell off the wagon after 9 months of nicotine sobriety, another friend said, "Dude, I'm so glad you're back on the dark side." My judgment gets questioned when I quit, and I get praised when I relapse...how fucked up is that? Nobody cheers when recovering heroin addicts start shooting up again after rehab. I don't appreciate this sort of attitude, because it trivializes what has been a very miserable struggle for me over the past five years (when I really started thinking seriously about going smoke-free) and makes quitting even more difficult for me than it already is.
I smoked my first cigarette at age eleven, and became a regular smoker at 13. I've been smoking cigarettes for over half my life. I am severely addicted, and it is well documented that nicotine is as addictive as heroin or cocaine. I have a lot of smoker friends who refute this. Some of them say things like, "I never smoke at work," or "I only smoke when I'm drinking." Maybe so, but that doesn't mean you're not just as much of a fucking addict as me. Try to NOT smoke when you're drinking sometime. Some of these same friends have been saying that they're going to quit by a certain age or year or major event, and those milestones have come and gone and they're still smoking. In spite of my getting occasionally irritated with my smoker friends, I keep it mostly to myself, because I don't ever want to be the type of nonsmoker that runs around preaching at people. They'll confront this demon when they're good and ready, and it's not my job to be a self-righteous asshole and lecture them all about it. For one thing, it's not like they've never heard that smoking damages your health. For another, you can only quit when you really, REALLY want to, so saying patronizing shit like "don't you know that's bad for you?" or passive-aggressively coughing and/or dramatically fanning smoke away is pointless and fucking rude. I used to smoke like an industrial revolution-era textile mill, so acting all of a sudden like smoking is the most horrible thing a person can do is hypocritical and worthy of scorn. I'm not going to be that party-killing asshole. Unfortunately, though, the close link to smoking and socializing in my group of friends makes hanging out with them particularly challenging sometimes.
I went to see 300 with FalloniusMonk and Rack last week, and after the movie, they both promptly lit right up. As I stated before, I have no interest in lecturing them; FalloniusMonk in particular will have none of that, as she's one of the most defiantly proud smokers I've ever met and often states that it's all good because I'm going to cure cancer (for the record, dude, I've been out of the cancer biz for four years now...so unless they make a cigarette that gives you colds or polio, I can't help with that). She won't for one second tolerate any of that condescending, bossy, you-should-quit bullshit and I wouldn't dare run any of that by her even if I felt inclined to do so. However, it's still fucking hard to stand there and watch them take drag after drag, when I want to take just one SO FUCKING BAD. I tried to hang with them, telling myself that I'll have to get desensitized to seeing other people smoke, but I just couldn't take it. I said, "Okay-dudes-see-ya-later-I-gotta-catch-the-train-bye," and scurried off before I could freak out. I know they understand that it's just what I have to do.
However, while being around my smoking friends can be a challenge for me, NOTHING has been as difficult as sleeping. Yes, that's right...sleeping. It's not that I'm having trouble sleeping so much as I'm having trouble with my dreams. In order to not smoke and function as an only marginally psychopathic crazy bitch while I quit as opposed to a totally emotionally unstable maniac, I am on the patch. The patch is a pain in the ass, because it itches like crazy and falls off in the presence of the Palmer's Cocoa Butter Formula I have to slather on myself by the gallon to mitigate the itching, and because a side-effect is crazy, vivid dreams. In the past I've experienced a variety of disturbing nicotine-induced dreams in which I had dirty but romantic Thorn Birds-style sex with Archbishop of New York Edward Cardinal Egan, got a job teaching biology at Smith (about as close to hell as I can imagine), was accosted by Chris Hansen for internet perversion, married my high school boyfriend (sorry, THAT'S actually about as close to hell as I can imagine), was violently attacked by my lab mice, and ate my brother's dog. However, the most recurrent disturbing dreams I have are of me smoking. Last night I dreamt I was at my parent's house and their fridge was full of half-opened Parliament Light packs. I kept asking my mom to throw them away because they were so tempting, and she said she was keeping them fresh for someone else who might want them since I didn't need them anymore. I was begging her to throw them away and she was telling me not to be so wasteful. Then I smoked one, my mother started yelling at me that I was weak and pathetic, and I woke up.
This is about the twentieth dream I've had since quitting about smoking, and these dreams are so vivid, that I wake up wracked with guilt for relapsing once again. It's not that these dreams are otherwise believable; the notions that my mother's frugality would extend to stocking the fridge with P-Funks or that she would ever under any circumstances scream at me that I'm weak and pathetic are ridiculous, but the smoking part feels SO REAL. I really believe that I smoked upon awakening. Eventually I become more fully alert and realize that I only cheated in my dreams, and I'm still right with Jesus as far as my Lenten vow is concerned, but this is driving me crazy. I can learn to deal with being around smokers, because it's something I'm going to have to learn to cope with if I'm going to stay smoke-free and keep 90% of my friends (and I love them dearly whether they smoke or not, so that's not even an option), but being tormented with relapse every night is getting to be a bit much. I'd frankly rather live on Elm Street and have Freddy chasing me around every night in my subconscious than be confronted with pack after shiteous pack of Parliaments. Christ, does this ever get any easier???
Labels: defiance, FalloniusMonk, Razzification, smoking
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Smokung is a habit not addiction. Im so sick of listening to smokers compaining about there own choices and acting like the worlds biggest victims when its nobodys CHOICE to smoke but your own!!! Nobodys making you smoke and nobodys to blame EXCEPT YOU! Take responsibility for yourself instead of blaming everyone else AND making everyone sick from your toxic choking cancer funes! I hope you die of lung cancer, its what you DESERVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
# posted by 
: 3/26/2007 11:09 AM
: 3/26/2007 11:09 AM
I can't even tell what kind of point you're trying to make here, but at least you seem to exemplify the type of non-smoker I absolutely do NOT wish to be: stupid, marginally literate, and preachier than my Aunt Jesus. Go fuck yourself, retard.
I can see why you would get discouraged about quitting with comments like those above. The truth is, as I've experienced it, nicotine is a powerful addiction & a comforting habit. After 18 years of recovery, I'm still waxing nostalgic about it (see my two most recent posts). It was great to smoke. It's even better not to. At the risk of sounding like Uncle Jesus, I'll pray for you.
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