Blessed Be the Day When You Set Me Free

It is with more than a little regret that I admit here to relapsing. Without getting into particulars of the evening it happened, I will just outline the pitfalls that led to my buying cigarettes from a gas station at 1 a.m.

#1: I quit using nicotine patches. This happens when I get cocky. Over the past week or so, I've gradually sort of forgotten to switch the patches out. When I realized that this was happening and that I'd gone an entire day without an active stream of nicotine entering my blood, I thought I was out of the woods and comfortably quit. I have some pretty incredible will power in a lot of situations, so it makes sense that I'd believe I could persevere here, too. But one of the tricky and beautiful things about the patch is that it gives me a false sense of security. I forget that I have not rid my body of nicotine simply because I am no longer inhaling it. I feel less irritable and less tired and I get prematurely confident. It's happened before. Maybe writing it out here will help me remember it next time.

#2: I was happy. I am most disappointed in myself when I begin smoking again due to some small annoyance or hiccup in an otherwise steady mood. It's annoying, though, when I begin smoking again because I feel celebratory and decide I deserve to indulge. This also has to do with feeling cocky in some way: I feel so Up as a result of days and days without smoking that I believe I can dip my toes in again without experiencing the full gamut of addiction. So it goes that sometimes, when I am most optimistic and comfortable in my skin, I test the waters with too much bravado and find myself caught up, once more, in this bullshit cycle.

#3: I was overwhelmed. When I am making a myriad of changes in my life, I tend to chastise myself for taking on too much at once. But sometimes it's necessary to instigate a big overhaul, and that doesn't mean that any one piece necessarily has to fall to make room for the others. At the same time I quit smoking, I began the tapering-on-and-off process of switching medications. I also practically quit drinking (four drinks in one month's time, all consumed on different nights). I also adopted a new work schedule, leading to earlier mornings, less free time and less sleep. And let's not forget that I added a new obligation to my abbreviated evenings: studying for standardized tests. Last time I studied for a standardized test, when I was taking the GREs in 2003, I sat on the floor in my childhood bedroom and smoked a pack of cigarettes a day while I pored over the mathematics study section. It's almost unsurprising that I caved the day I opened my Praxis study guide to the math diagnostics test. Unsurprising or not, it's disappointing. Besides, who likes predictability? Being predictable, I mean, but also studying predictability. It's no excuse to smoke.

#4: I am not running. I kid around a lot about how I'm either an athlete or a chain smoker, but it's entirely true: when I run, I don't smoke; when I am injured, go right back to cigarettes. Assuming I'd be okay to run again was one motivation in choosing the day I did to quit. It was a couple days later that I realized my ankles are still too injured for high-impact activity, so I'm back to begrudging my dog for his need of daily walks and periodically icing and elevating my injuries, which are going on two months old now. I am impatient with this and know from previous experience that physical activity is of paramount import to my mental health and thus, my ability to make healthy decisions for myself.

At other times when I've been on the sidelines, I've believed it impossible to treat this particular symptom of my addiction. I've used my inability to work out as an excuse to become more and more stagnant and to smoke copious amounts of cigarettes. It is possibly the most difficult part of my journey thus far to promise myself that I will find other ways to get my body the exercise it needs in order to be motivated to stay away from smoking. I haven't yet found a proper substitute for running four miles a day, but I am doing what I can to rehabilitate myself toward that goal again: using a wobble board, visiting a chiropractor, seeing a corrective exercise therapist, wrapping and icing my injuries, wearing supportive shoes. It's a start.

#5: I stopped asking for encouragement from my friends. At first, I talked nonstop about my projects and my efforts to quit. Because I was so open about it, people often asked me how my efforts were going. When I stopped mentioning it, people stopped asking. They assumed I was doing fine and that gave me license to stray, as I no longer felt the pressure of wanting to meet their well-meaning interrogations with reports of continued success.

#6: I stopped focusing on this blog. During the first two weeks, this was how I made light of my daily struggles and discomforts. Then, I lost momentum. I stopped daydreaming about my distraction projects and then stopped planning them altogether. When I did follow through with one or the other, I only wrote one sentence about them (painting) instead of spending the time to appreciate what I'd done for myself in lieu of inhaling smoke. I stopped thinking about my triumphs as being related to quitting smoking, so my successes felt less profound. I also told myself no one was reading my blog and so I stopped feeling accountable. I could smoke and no one would ever have to know. Which is dumb, as I realize that quitting smoking is a choice that I am making and in which no one else is truly invested. I have supporters, but no sponsors. It's an excuse of sorts to even include these last two bullet points, but it's important for me to recognize that they are excuses or I'll fall prey to them again next time.

So here's to quitting again. Or pretending the past two days never happened. I don't think I can put myself through the chocolate experiment again without giving myself diabetes, so I think it may be best to pretend that I am on day 17 instead of day 1. First thing's first, though: I'm putting the patches on my nightstand, right next to my alarm clock and my medication. And I'm renewing my dedication to this space and to my projects, which being miserable about denying myself something I want inspire me to finally get off of my ass and do. In my case, this time, misery is a great motivator.