Statistically you, whoever you are/wherever you come from, have probably faced some kind of addiction either first or second-hand.  Even if you haven’t, admit it- you’ve watched enough Intervention to consider yourself an expert on the subject.  You know the facts.  Addicts need more and more of their chosen vice over time to get the same effects.  Withdrawal is no joke and triggers are everywhere.  But unless you’ve truly been through it yourself, you probably don’t understand how losing your vice is like losing your best friend- your seductively troubled best friend. 

When I was 16 I (thought I) was super cool; the sneak out after bedtime and skip school kinda cool.  My girlfriends and I would steal liquor from the parental liquor cabinets and cigs from the cigarette packs naively left out in the open.  By age 17, I was sucking down stogies on the reg and having had a solid group of older friends, it was never a struggle to illegally obtain my Newports.  Like most rebellious teenage pastimes, it all started out as fun and games.  But what had started as an adrenaline-inducing, (giggle giggle), “look what I got away with” joke behind the scenes, turned into an addiction that followed me for 8 years. 

Gradually, nicotine became my best friend, my great love.  When I was hungry, it was there to curb my appetite.  When I was stressed, it was there to calm me down.  When I was lonely, it was there to keep me company.  Through the teenage battles with my parents, nicotine was there whispering, “Yeah, smoking cigs will show them you’re no parent-pleaser.  Stick with me, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re a badass.”  And at that desperate, confused time in my youth, I was all for that message. 

Soon that “no fucks given” persona became my reputation, then my defining characteristic, and eventually my outlook on life.  It served me well for a time, but at some point about halfway through college, I fell off the “cool train;” my depression and inability to let go of childish habits dragging me down.  I barely graduated and I entered the post-grad life more confused than ever about the direction of my future.  Through it all the cigs were there for me.  Cigarettes became a symbol of myself, my totem, my spirit animal.  I honestly felt that giving them up was synonymous with losing myself even more than I thought I already had.  I was one with the nicotine. 

Sure, you might think “Ah, whatever, its just cigarettes.  It’s not heroin.”  But addiction is addiction whether it be smoking, eating, or snorting pixie sticks.  It becomes a problem when you can’t live without it, when your body aches because you don’t have it, when you become severely depressed because you can’t get it.  I realized I had become a slave to my addiction when I started thinking, “If the stadium doesn’t have a smokers area, I can’t go to the concert,” and “I know I’ve been drinking but I have to get more cigarettes so either I drive drunk or walk a mile to the store.”  Not being able to smoke was NOT an option. 

I gradually began to accept that being an adult smoker in the 21st century was not cool.  Science has revealed that smoking causes cancer and cancer, we can all agree, has just absolutely never been even close to cool.  Everyday I’d hear about someone else quitting and everyday I’d go on embarrassed about keeping the habit and yet stay unwilling to let it go.  Eventually I began to realize how deep into this abusive relationship I had gotten.  I started to resent its smell on my fingers and its taste in my mouth.  I loved it, but I knew I had to let it go. 

The 1st time I tried quitting I was still in college and I went with a friend to a hypnotism seminar.  It was free and we giggled our ways through it.  We ended up leaving before it was over to go sneak a smoke behind the building.  It was obviously not a serious attempt.  The 2nd time, 2 summers after graduation, I tried hypnotism again.  That lasted about 5 days while my (now ex) boyfriend was away, but then he came back and brought with him his snide remarks and Marlboro 27’s. “ The stress is too much,” I told myself as I inhaled.  The 3rd time I made it about a month, but I was never nicotine free.  I used patches, gum, and disposable e-cigs so it was all too easy to slip back to the real thing.  I had decided to backpack Europe and well, I couldn’t not smoke cigarettes in Europe! 

So what’s different this time?  This time I’m done compromising myself.  Nicotine was a close friend that treated me badly, but whose apology I accepted over and over again.  I invited it to accompany me everywhere I went and every time it managed to make me feel uncomfortable.  I no longer have room in my life for those kinds of friends.  I’m the happiest and surest of myself I’ve maybe ever been and I’m ready to say, “Fuck you!”  to every shitty shit thing in my life. “ Starting with you nicotine, sayonara!” 

Today I’m 5 days nicotine free.  I locked myself in my house for a 3 day detox quarantine, eliminating all stressful things from reach, and allowing myself to eat as many Goldfish and Chips Ahoy as my heart desired.  The first day I sobbed at random, the second I sobbed and cramped, the third I sobbed and cramped and puked.  It wasn’t sexy and it wasn’t fun; it felt like I was going through the flu and PMS and heartbreak all at the same time.  Yesterday was better and today I woke up, made myself a smoothie, and went to the gym.  Don’t get me wrong, just like a lost love, I’m going to have nicotine on my mind often for a long while.  But broken hearts heal and the body mends. 

Lesson Learned: Addiction usually starts innocently, be it out of boredom or trying to fill an emotional void.  Every vice serves its purpose temporarily, offering a good laugh or covering an old wound.  No one starts using with the intention of becoming enslaved to it.  But eventually, YOU WILL BECOME ENSLAVED TO IT.  Stop seeing your vice as your crutch, and start seeing it as your oppressor.  Get angry at it- tell it to fuck off!  It’s ruining your life not helping you live it.  Every user and the journey their addiction takes them on is unique, but the heartbreak of losing a vice is universal.  Next time you look at a loved one and think, “Ugh, how can they do that to themselves?”  stop.  Instead of judging, can you understand their experience?  And most importantly, can you help them see that they deserve better? 

P.S. If you’re trying to quit your vice, go ahead and post it on a blog you share with everyone you know.  That way you literally can’t be unsuccessful due to the crushing humiliation you will face should you concede to failure.  You know, just saying…