Well, it’s been around six months since I last tried to kill myself by placing a cigarette between my lips, sparking it and blackening my lungs. It really wasn’t as much of a feat as it sounds, to go from one or two packs of Camel Lights a day to none. The physical addiction wasn’t the difficult hurdle on the road to quitting. The nicotine nags were minor; they never got any worse than an hour after a smoke, which is the approximate time when I would light up a follow-up cigarette to my last smoke. In turn, that follow-up smoke would become my last cigarette, deserving yet another follow-up, and on and on until my lungs were black and felt bogged down with tar and gunk.

What was difficult was convincing my mind that it really could live without the leaf. Once I started to chip away at the mental nags by paying attention to my withdrawal symptoms (that edgy feeling) I started realized that it never got any worse than an hour after smoking a cigarette. The withdrawal symptoms, that would normally get me to light up a follow-up smoke never got any worse, they actually lessened over time. I could feel this was so by paying close attention to how my body actually felt. If left unchecked my mind would heighten the withdrawal symptoms, making them seem worse than they actually were. I’d have to stop myself, pay attention to my body, and ignore what my mind (the nico-monster) was telling me. I would breathe slowly and pay attention to each fiber of muscle, all my tension, any Goosebumps or warm splotches over my skin. Doing this repeatedly told me that my mind was lying and it really wasn’t as bad as it was telling me.

After realizing my mind was a liar, I was able to breeze through the first week with careful observation, and by the second week I would just have the random habitual nag. I’d pore myself a cup of coffee at work and my knee-jerk urge would be to reach for a cigarette. I’d get into the car and reach for a non-existent pack of Camels in the center console of my car. The occasional crisis would drip through my inbox and I’d have the urge to light up. At this point in the game, it just took positive reassurance to keep me from slipping back into the smoking addiction. I’d think to myself while sipping my coffee, “I don’t need a smoke to enjoy this, this is good enough!” In the car, as soon as I’d catch myself reaching for an invisible pack, I’d say to myself, “I don’t need those anymore; they’re not even there anyway!” I’d get that crisis email and think to myself, “I don’t need a smoke. I can deal with this on my own, however I can use my old lighter to ignite a few cubicle walls.”

I know that last paragraph sounds kind of cheesy, but it worked. Eventually those habitual nags pushed farther and farther away from one another. True, sometimes that knee-jerk reaction comes back, but I just quietly reaffirm my decision to quit smoking and press on with the rest of my day.

So how did I do it, oddly enough, I read a book. I read a book and went cold turkey without any nicotine replacement treatment (like the gum or the patch). It’s really a book of no method since it doesn’t say anything a smoker hasn’t already heard or thought of themselves, and there is no magic trick. What the book does do is remove all of the excuses smokers use to mask their desire to quit smoking. At times the book gets a little cheesy and repetitive, but if you stay open minded and contemplative the truth sinks in and excuses get removed. If you’re interested in this book it’s called The Easy Way to Stop Smoking, by Allen Carr.

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