Cold Turkey

People have always told me they were surprised to learn that I smoked.  I’ve never really known what they meant by that.  I guess they expect a smart person to not do something as stupid as that.  I guess that’s why I was a closet smoker at times.  I didn’t want them to judge me.  It took my kids years to figure it out because I hid it well from them for so long.  It wasn’t an example I wanted to set for them, and I certainly was never going to smoke around them and expose them to second hand smoke.

For me, smoking was the thing I did that didn’t make sense or didn’t add up when you consider who I am as a whole person.  It was my crutch.  It was my “go to” when I was sad, angry, frustrated, or bored.  But it was even more routine than that.  It was a part of driving, a part of eating, a part of work, a part of play, a part of practically everything. 

In January, I tried to quit smoking.  I asked my doctor for a prescription (which I’d taken once before for another purpose) with a side effect of smoking cessation.  Apparently, although it wasn’t created for that purpose, it’s used for that purpose quite a bit.  Without effort, I found myself cutting way back on quantity and even frequency, reducing my intake by a third.  But to be honest, I was also pretty much waiting for the medicine to work a miracle all by itself.  I wasn’t giving up easily.  Unfortunately, I quickly remembered why my previous usage of this drug was short term.  For me, it creates a horrid sense of depression and despondency – so much so that after a few days of coming home from work and doing nothing (no laundry, no cleaning, no errands, no exercise, no work for my part-time job, no fun activities with the kids....and folks, there is no other adult in my household), I realized this medicine was changing me and that I had to end it immediately, lest I lose myself completely.  And so I continued to smoke.

Then my pastor did a sermon series on stewardship.  He spoke a lot about letting God into all areas of life, including the area where our hurts and our bad habits reside.  I immediately thought of people who had habits “worse” than mine (as if we can rank our mistakes or sins).  He talked about the distinction between accepting Christ as our Savior and accepting Him as our Lord.  He explained this in a way that really made sense to me for the first time.  I began to think about ALL of the areas in my life, and I challenged myself to think about what it would look like to live in a way that honored God’s will for me, rather than honoring my little plan for myself.  This isn’t a new idea for me.  I have always tried to live in a Godly way and to demonstrate my faith by my actions and words, although I have admittedly failed many times.  I knew, deep down, that if I was honest with myself, living according to God’s plan for me could not include smoking.  There was no excuse that would enable me to do it.

This rested on my heart for a week or two.  Then one day I saw that I had two cigarettes left and thought to myself “okay, I need to stop and get smokes on the way home tonight.”  But then I thought, “or do I?”  It had to come to me in this way.  I never bought that next pack and the end of day 9 is drawing close tonight.  There are absolutely times I still want a cigarette.  There are times I don’t know what to do with myself without one.  I’ve bought healthy snacks, started exercising more, and a coworker surprised me with his decision to quit 3 days ago, so that is helpful as well.  We take walks together now instead of smoke breaks.  Mostly I try – and it’s a behavior I have to learn – to let God in to the place where smoking was…to ask Him to fill the holes that loneliness and boredom make, to let him soothe my nerves and calm my worry and anxiety, to let him mute my temptation and desire down to a manageable level.  I’m not really sure I’m doing anything at all, and when I feel that I am, I’m careful to give the credit to Him instead, so that credit won’t turn to pride.