Breaking Habits, Boredom, and Patches

Bad habits are very hard to break. Addictions are even harder to eradicate. Habits are simply that - a conditioned response, sometimes without stimuli. The mind travels in a rut, the hand reaches automatically, the foot steps onto a familiar rutted path. There's no plan, no pain - only an empty mind. Like on the menu of a demented Chinese restaurant, however, with addiction you get immediate feedback, and it's rarely pleasant.

As the picture caption above reads, 'Hard work never killed anybody, but why take the chance?' (Click on it for a larger view.) That's pretty much been my view of the hard work required to break my addiction to cigarettes. I haven't strangled anyone yet, but there's still lots of time.

Like most heavy, long term smokers, I've tried quitting more times than I can count. I've tried every fad, every promise, every patch, every pill, and generally every thing that even hinted at offering assistance. Nothing ever worked for more than a day or two. The biggest deterrent to quitting, however, was that I simply liked to smoke. I considered it my one vice, and I've always believed everyone should have at least one vice to stay sane. Smoking was my accomplice during long thought processes. It kept me company when I felt lonely. It helped me relax when I was tense. It had less calories than lemon meringue pie after a good meal.

Naturally, there was a price to pay. There is always a price for every thing we do, although some seem less exorbitant than others. The smoking price was in one's personal smell, the loss of full taste bud sense, the slight loss of depth to breathing, but unless you're a masochistic long distance runner, that didn't seem too high a cost. Then the age factor which had been creeping up on little cat's and crow's feet became a fully matured rampaging monster. One got tired more quickly, noticed a rasp in breath right before falling asleep, found that stair risers seemed higher, strangers on the telephone began asking about asthma. Then it got worse.

Somehow, the joy of smoking diminished with the need to walk and breathe at the same time. And then one of my cousins-by-marriage died; same age as me, overweight like me, a long-time smoker like me, who, also like me, could no longer walk any reasonable distance without having to stop and rest to be able to continue on. She had a heart attack at a far too young age and I had to admit the truth. Smoking was not a friend. I was in an abusive relationship where if the cigarette had been a man, I'd have bodily kicked him out of my life a long time ago.

Almost without thinking, I smoked my last cigarette and went out to buy nicotine patches. Although I don't understand it, I was three weeks smoke free before I actually missed smoking. I also didn't tell a soul I was trying to quit and when I did begin to miss it, repeated my mantra that walking and breathing simultaneously was a good thing. Like an alcoholic, I took it all one day at a time, panicking only when I was down to one patch, there was snow on the ground and the car wouldn't start so I could go buy replacements.

Tomorrow I put on the smallest patch - the one with only 7 ml. of nicotine - and I wear those for two more weeks. Then I'm patch free and smoke free, as well. I've also come to recognize that I will always want to smoke, particularly when I'm bored, but I also refuse to go through with all this again. I've smoked for over 25 years and it's taken me 10 weeks to quit, discounting all the aborted, previous attempts. I feel more kinship and pity for all those people in rehab these days.

The strangest thing of all in this desire for a smoke is that I only get it when I'm bored. I've been madder than a wet cat, but didn't even consider reaching for a cigarette. I've been extremely annoyed and didn't think 'smoke.' But let me get bored, and I have to have a heart to heart talk with myself. It's good that I'm stubborn by nature.

Boredom has always been my Nemesis. Too many times in the past when my first inclination was to think I was tired, a second look told me I was only bored out of my tree. That's really bad, since far too often people who say they are bored, are merely boring people. I've also been one of those who at least tries to keep their hands busy - another reason I probably enjoyed smoking. I can't simply sit and watch TV, but have to also sew or knit or play with the cats. I don't do well in long movies unless they're truly well done with an interesting story line. It's absolute hell for me to wait in lines, or a doctor's office, or in a traffic jam, or for a train unless I have a book to read. I simply cannot remain idle. At least now that my breathing is better and my sleeping habits improving (my raspy, labored breathing made sleep a problem), I have more energy to do more things, but I still have to build up my stamina. Of course, it would also help if I were interested in housework and mundane chores, but I'm one of those who detests the constant need to re-do what you just finished doing a day before. Wonder if there's a patch to cure that?

Ironically, on the home chores front, my breathing had gotten so bad and my energy level so low, that I let many routine things simply slide until now I'm almost overwhelmed with things that absolutely have to be done. My dust bunnies are getting so large and aggressive, I've begun to think of names for them. Occasionally, I'll notice the cats stepping carefully over my oriental rugs, trying to avoid getting the tiny scraps of 'stuff' caught in the pads of their paws. My pride tells me I should be ashamed of myself for ignoring the obvious for so long, even if my energy was at an all time low, but even during the silent lecture I find myself just walking by some mess needing attention. Denial had turned into obsessive oblivion. Wonder if there's a patch for that?

At any rate, I'm convinced that things can only get better from here....and they'd even become perfect if I wasn't also getting older each day. Now, wouldn't it be great if there were a patch for that?