Things humans do to themselves
Hi,
I posted a while back and I feel the need to communicate with like souls
tonight.
Two months, two weeks, five days, 6 hours, 28 minutes and 30 seconds. 1605
cigarettes not smoked. Last cig on May 25th 5 p.m. precisely. It was
shite.
This might be a rambling post. I don’t mind if you switch off or give up.
Two extremes.
Last week I had to travel into my office headquarters, on the train. Train
compartments are non-smoking these days. We’re talking U.K. Sticks
(countryside/not city)
I got off the train, I had a flash of enlightenment that this was the first
time I hadn’t been anticipating (screaming for) a cigarette after such a
jouney. I felt a rush of joy and liberation. I had tears in my eyes.
Freedom. This is the wonderful part. No frantic checking of ’supplies’
before the shops close. No panic when you have to endure someone else’s no
smoking rules.
Tonight I ‘want’ a cigarette. Now I ‘know’ that is patently untrue. Now -
how can I simultaneously want something and not want something? Easy. The
answer is to have been a smoker. ‘Do you want a cigarette?’ Yes. ‘Do you
want to be a smoker?’ No.
Ok we’ll try again. ‘Do you want to be a smoker?’ No. ‘Do you want a
cigarette?’ Yes.
Well, against advice from everybody, I tasted a cigarette - just one puff -
about two weeks into the quit.
We’re supposed to be dare-devils aren’t we?
It tasted like a purple-black stream of noxious nasty stuff. This was a
‘tailor-made’ as we call them in England - a ready rolled Rothmans or
Superkings or whatever. A couple of days later I again threw caution to the
wind - I had a puff of ‘my brand’ - a cigarette made from my favourite
hand-rolling tobacco - this must be different - I eschewed those crap
expensive ready-mades for years ‘cos my roll-ups tasted better.
Guess what? It tasted exactly the same as the other shit. I was appalled.
Somehow the addiction disguises the noxiousness (is that a word?) of the
ingestion and fools you into thinking it’s a pleasure. THis from a
fifty-year-old who has smoked most of his adult life.
So, the cigarette I have nostalgia for is not the reality at all. The
reality is a purple-black stream of noxious nasty stuff. (I cut and pasted
that - I couldn’t bear to dream up alternate epithets). I took some therapy
to quit. The biggest thing to stay with me from that therapy is…
It’s not just one (smoke). If you have one (smoke), you are choosing a
lifetime of addiction. For we are all addicts, with purpose-built nicotine
receptors that we, tragically, as teenagers, ‘chose’ to reprogram our brains
with.
I’ve been drinking tonight. It probably shows. But I ain’t been smoking.
Phil
October 16th, 2004 at 9:04 pm
Phil,
I just had to say, this really sums it all up, what it’s like to be a smoker
and to quit smoking:
“Tonight I ‘want’ a cigarette. Now I ‘know’ that is patently untrue. Now -
how can I simultaneously want something and not want something? Easy. The
answer is to have been a smoker. ‘Do you want a cigarette?’ Yes. ‘Do you
want to be a smoker?’ No.
Ok we’ll try again. ‘Do you want to be a smoker?’ No. ‘Do you want a
cigarette?’ Yes. ”
Couldn’t have said it better myself. Thanks for the chuckle.
Amber
October 17th, 2004 at 11:55 pm
Hi Phil,
It’s good to hear from you again. Congrats on your 2+ months quit.
Yes it is one of the wonderful parts. It’s a freedom of self that a
smoker can’t experience.
Interesting that phenomena isn’t it? You no longer have a chemical
addiction creating the need/feed cycle, yet you had an urge for a
cigarette. Why? What specific physical sensations were you experiencing
that were interpreted as an urge to smoke? Did you feel tat way before you
began drinking?
That sounds awfully permanent, and terminal. Personally, I don’t
consider myself a nicotine addict any longer, at least not by my definition
of addiction (the body’s need to maintain a particular level of a chemical
in order to prevent the onset of discomfort when the level of that chemical
drops). There are a few others here who might argue the validity of the
statement that “we are all addicts”. But whether or not we are, it really
doesn’t have a lot of effect in terms of us quitting and becoming
comfortably quit.
By engaging in dangerous behavior like ‘tasting’ a cig? Why did you
think you where “supposed” to do that? I’m afraid this went right over
my head. Phil, please explain
Steve
October 19th, 2004 at 8:56 am
Hi Steve,
The

At 6+ years’ quit, you’re probably a tad more rational than I am
first couple of months for a quitter has got to be an emotional
roller-coaster ride. By and by, I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve had times of
absolute euphoria since I stopped.
I’ll work backwards.
By engaging in dangerous behavior like ‘tasting’ a cig? Why did you
think you where “supposed” to do that? I’m afraid this went right over
my head. Phil, please explain
This was a light-hearted throwaway that was meant to work on many levels
including ‘if you don’t take any risks in life you lead less of a life’ and,
not least, your ‘name’, Steve. I fear it ended up meaning nothing
whatsoever. When we speak, the process is so real-time instantaneous that
we often cannot predict how any given sentence will end. Posting’s a bit
like that, ‘cept no-one gets the chance to interrupt. You post when you
feel driven to. I suppose it was a jocular attempt to explain my reckless
action.
The ‘tasting’ was important for me because it closed a chapter. I am not
recommending it or decrying it. It taught me the distinction between the
cartoon cigarette my mind remembers and the reality of the noxious tube.
They are VERY different.
That sounds awfully permanent, and terminal. Personally, I don’t
consider myself a nicotine addict any longer, at least not by my definition
of addiction (the body’s need to maintain a particular level of a chemical
in order to prevent the onset of discomfort when the level of that chemical
drops). There are a few others here who might argue the validity of the
statement that “we are all addicts”. But whether or not we are, it really
doesn’t have a lot of effect in terms of us quitting and becoming
comfortably quit.
Ok - that’s pretty negative and gloomy, I guess, but I didn’t really mean it
to be and I certainly didn’t want to offend anyone. It’s only since I
stopped smoking that I’ve been doing research into the pharmacology of
smoking - (natch - smokers don’t want to know this stuff) - and this
statement reflects my sadness and dismay at the tobacco industry and the
millions of hoodwinked people. For me, knowing that I was literally
addicted to a chemical helped me to cope with the quit. How about ‘For we
have all been … but now we have escaped.’?
Interesting that phenomena isn’t it? You no longer have a chemical
addiction creating the need/feed cycle, yet you had an urge for a
cigarette. Why?
Deep thought. It’s a common experience. It seems to me to be a memory of
self-gratification. I had a salesman in my house two weeks ago (I didn’t
buy anything). In conversation, it emerged that he had stopped smoking for
three years and then had a smoke on Christmas Day - womph - back in the
tarpit. Back on 2 packs a day. These stories are rife. The closest I can
get at the moment, perhaps, is that it’s like having an urge for apple pie
or a steak sandwich. Wow - I could murder a steak. (But it’s no tragedy if
you don’t get one.) And it isn’t that bad if you never eat it again.
A lovely vignette during the first week of my quit. The first week in June
I was in France, on holiday with my family and I’d just had a birthday. We
were sitting in a cafe waiting for our lunch. Sitting nearby, a beautiful
young girl with long blonde hair and a short, white dress was lighting up a
long cigarette. She looked the picture of sophistication that our culture
brainwashes us with - Bogart and Bacall and all that. Why do they always
give the wounded man a cigarette? Anyway, lunch arrived and I watched this
lady in bewilderment wondering what conclusion I was to draw from this
tableau. Twenty minutes later she lit up again. And again. The Disney
princess became a horrowshow harpy - the perfect epitome of the biggest
con-trick played by humankind upon humankind. “Happy Birthday, Phil”, I
said.
October 20th, 2004 at 2:39 am
Hi Phil,
I never would. If the group of
They sure are. I quite agree that there are chapters to be closed and
There’s no question that the first several months of a quit are a time of
emotional chaos. However, turbulent emotions do coexist, or at least
alternately exist, with rational thought. Your post is an example as are
the posts of many others who are riding out recovery yet post the most
wonderfully logical and timely emails. I remember plodding along early in
my quit only to suddenly realize once more that “I’m not smoking.” and be
filled with the same euphoria you’re experiencing. I envy you the
experience of that degree of joy. It’s one of the up sides of the first
several months.
As for being a daredevil, that’s really a misnomer where it’s applied to
me. I’m the most conservative person you’ll ever meet when it comes to
taking chances with important things. Sometimes life forces an instance of
risk taking, but if it were up to me,
people who quit with me had chosen the name ‘chicken shits’, it would
certainly have been more appropriate, in my case, than daredevil. I’m the
one who advocates cutting down on caffeine and sugar to minimize the
physical ups and downs that are perceived as stress which can too easily be
interpreted as an urge to smoke. I’m the one who advocates avoiding risky
smoking situations initially if you’re not reasonably sure you can think
your way through. Walk away from anger and those who set it up. Don’t test
yourself, the risk that you’ll only be setting up a precedent for the next
taste, test, or slip is too great. Don’t rock your boat. Don’t be a
daredevil
that it’s usually easier to close them when the illusions have been dispelled.
We all certainly have been addicted. For myself, I make an effort not
to dwell on the actions of a tobacco industry who not only knew that
nicotine was both addictive and deadly, but was actively engaged in making
it more addictive. Further, that industry, knowing it’s ‘user base’ was
going to die prematurely, went out of it’s way to recruit children to
replace those who would die. What I find the most incomprehensible of all
is that, in America, it appears that CEOs or major corporations who were
aware that ‘books were being cooked’ may soon be sent to prison yet CEOs of
tobacco companies, who lied under oath haven’t been strung up from a
convenient tree. I guess it’s ok to addict people and kill them but it’s
not ok to mess with their money. Like I said, I try not to dwell on it,
it just really pisses me off.
You’re absolutely correct that smokers don’t want to know about their
smoking. It’s amazing how many quitters don’t want to know either. If
you’re interested in the pharmacology of smoking, check a book called
‘Smoking - The Artificial Passion’ by David Krogh. It’s an older book so
you might find it in a public library. I know it’s available an Amazon.com.
Can’t argue with that, it is a memory of self-gratification, a means to
find relief. But it might also be more than a memory. It might also be a
current association. Equating it to an urge for pie or a steak makes me
nervous. My concern is that maybe this mechanism by which we/you connected
smoking to some sensation is still functional, albeit only of “I can take
it or leave it” strength. Are you developing ABC thinking so that it
really is nothing more than a ‘take it or leave it’ and you’re choosing to
leave it? Maybe I’m worrying a bit much, but that smoking association can
come back around at us and suddenly, just like that salesman, we’re back to
our old smoking habit.
I enjoy your posts Phil, would love to read more of them.
Steve
October 25th, 2004 at 2:39 am
Hi Steve,
Then I stumbled across you lot. I’ve since realised that my vision of the
Phil
You said…
“Equating it to an urge for pie or a steak makes me
nervous. My concern is that maybe this mechanism by which we/you connected
smoking to some sensation is still functional, albeit only of “I can take
it or leave it” strength. Are you developing ABC thinking so that it
really is nothing more than a ‘take it or leave it’ and you’re choosing to
leave it?”
On reflection, it seems to me that my whole approach to smoking over the
past six months has been a cognitive one. Before I quit in earnest almost 3
months ago, I started to ‘play’ with my habit. In particular I cut out the
’special’ cigarettes. The smoke after a meal, the smoke when you get up,
the cigs that go with the booze. Over a few days I cut these key smokes
completely. If I went out for a beer, my cigarettes stayed at home. And it
all felt fine. This, it seems to me, is a cognitive approach. ‘I’m having
an urge… What do I WANT to do about it? Satisfy it in the old way? Or
adopt a more rational approach?’ I was still smoking of course but it made
me realise I had some control over my habit.
Then came giving up - with Allen Carr. Again in retrospect a cognitive
approach. You examine all your reasons for smoking and expose them all as
illusion. You are escaping from a nightmare rather than giving up a
pleasure. Smoking carries no benefits. None whatsoever. Zilch. Its
perceived therapeutic actions only have resonance and meaning within a
nicotine addiction. You smoke because you’re addicted and because the
culture brainwashes you.
Prisoner about to be shot by the firing squad - last request? Cigarette.
Soldiers wounded in war. Hey, let’s give them a cigarette - that’ll cheer
them up. Happy? In love? I’ll light two of the precious things so that we
can puff away together. In the UK we get adverts for a small cigar called
Hamlet - I’m not sure if you have these in the States. The theme is always
some unmitigated disaster - your hot-air balloon develops a leak mid-flight,
for example - so you light up a cigar. Sweet music plays and you are
blissed out. They are very clever.
After my last cigarette at the Allen Carr clinic, the counsellor gave us 20
minutes of ‘mild hypnotherapy’. I don’t consciously recall all of it but I
remember one key part. It’s never just one cigarette. If you’re tempted to
light up and you do so then you are literally, unambiguously saying ‘I want
to go back to a lifetime of smoking’. It’s not one - it’s thousands and
thousands and thousands.
The first few days into the quit, this last turned itself (in my mind) into
a graphic picture of two paths ahead of me. One path was light, bright,
airy and full of hope. The other was dark, stinky, and so very, very,
dreadfully sad. And there are only two paths since you can only have no
cigarettes or lots - no shades of grey here! So which one should I take?
two paths is a cognitive foundation statement (or very much like one). If
smoking enters my mind, that vision of the dark path with those thousands of
unsmoked cigarettes accompanies it. The immediacy of the reality of the
danger is further compounded by my memory of that daredevil taste of a
friend’s cigarette (much to your horror…).
So your ‘take it or leave it’ is my dark path, light path, I guess. My ABCs
seem to have grown organically without my having to specify them. Is this
dangerous? I don’t feel at risk because of the strength of that foundation
statement. Interested to know what you think.
My remembered pleasure is an illusion, since the only pleasure (I now know)
was the relief of deprivation symptoms. But it’s still a remembered
pleasure. So I have to deal with it cognitively - there’s no other way.
Was I just lucky to adopt a cognitive approach, and get a handle on a way to
defeat the habit? Or is the cognitive approach the ONLY WAY - i.e. I
wouldn’t be here typing this 3 months into the quit if I hadn’t adopted a
cognitive approach. In the UK they reckon 30% of smokers are trying to quit
at any one time - and out of those 30%, only 10% are successful. I bet the
90% who fail use no cognitive techniques - and then what are you left with?
Willpower? How long can you keep this torture up? You want one but you
mustn’t have one. That causes stress. How do you respond to stress? No
you can’t have one. That causes stress. And so on until you light up and
weep.
I heard the other day about a man who went to a hypnotist to stop smoking.
(This is a ‘friend of a friend’ story so might be apocryphal.) Afterwards,
not only did he not smoke but he was 100% sure he had never smoked in his
life. Maybe he took it too literally ‘You do not smoke’. Now this isn’t
cognitive quitting at all - what happens if he starts thinking ‘I wonder
what those cigarette things taste like?’
October 28th, 2004 at 6:22 am
Hi Phil,
Recently there were a few posts that touched on the fact those who were
working up to a quit and were putting forth an effort to be aware of their
physical sensations around specific events found they were consequently
smoking fewer cigarettes. In the same sense, some who have already quit
often find that simply being aware that there is always a choice will often
be able to control their urges and behaviors.
From what you’ve said regarding your awareness of choices you’re making
as to how you’ll respond in certain situations, I’d say that your quit is
certainly cognitive in nature. As far as ‘risk’ is concerned, I think that
as long as you maintain that awareness, you’ll continue to make choices
that are in keeping with your foundation statements/beliefs. However, this
is exactly the area where I’d suggest caution, and maybe some consideration
of additional effort, specifically regarding the maintenance of that
necessary awareness. I’m not going to say that if you, or anyone else,
eases up on being aware or vigilant that you, or they, are going to slip or
relapse. But the danger does seem to increase dramatically when we are
either less aware or have gotten far enough down the quit road that we
begin to be a bit comfortable or routine in the way we get through our day.
Cognitive quitting is really comprised of two parts: 1- the basic
understanding of the mechanics of our smoking behavior and some foundation
statements, and 2- the ABC exercises (which become ABC thinking) that will
create new automatic, nonsmoking, responses.
Many of those who have been cognitively quit for a while have posted
about experiences where they didn’t even think of cigarettes in connection
to what was happening at the time. They’ve done their ABCs which retrained
their Warren to respond effectively, automatically, and nonsmokingly (is
that a word?). Phil, I think you’ve got things well in hand at this stage
of your quit. I hope you’ll consider working on some ABCs in order to
guarantee that you’ll move into that comfort zone where persistent
awareness is no longer necessary.
Steve