Freedom from nicotine - finally!

After no less than a dozen unsuccessful attempts in twice as many years, I finally declared independence from cigarettes on Memorial Day 1988. This time it worked. Here's my story:

I lit up my first cigarette as a teenager in the mid-sixties and was hooked after that first sputtering attempt. I liked the "spacey" feeling it gave my head, despite the queasy feeling in my stomach. Soon I was taking chances smoking in the locked bathroom at home: a cigarette in one hand, air freshener in the other, the window open, and the fan on. The thrill of sneaking a cigarette without being caught added to the mystique of my newfound habit. Inevitably, I was caught. Although temporarily interrupted, my habit was already established and could not be broken easily, or for many years.

Cigarettes were my steady companion for more than two decades: through good times and bad, sad, joyful, stressful. It didn't matter-cigarettes were always with me, frequently accompanied by a steaming cup of black coffee.

I first tried to end the vicious hold on my life during college. But the discomfort was too much, and after one or two days, I decided my youth would protect me from the dire consequences for the time being. I'll deal with quitting when I'm older, more mature, motivated, and capable, I'd say to myself. Even in the early years of my addiction, my intention was to stop before it was "too late." 28

The years ticked by. At least twice in my 20s I made definite all-out attempts to quit. During two pregnancies I managed to quit for three months each time-hardly a monumental accomplishment, yet the effort seemed excruciating. I felt like a dismal failure when I couldn't stop smoking even to protect the health of my unborn babies. The guilt was overwhelming, but not enough to eradicate the habit. Again in my 30s, during pregnancy, I briefly made the gargantuan attempt once more and failed.

Over the years as my children studied health issues in elementary school, they would come home horrified and frightened as they begged me to quit killing myself. The guilt was torturous. I'd try to cut down, or at least try not to smoke around them.

By this time, smoking had become less acceptable in my social circles. I became embarrassed and ashamed of my foul habit. But that was not enough to make me stop. instead, eventually very few people even knew I smoked. In effect, I became a closet smoker. Since I couldn't seem to quit, at least I wouldn't subject myself to the guilt-inducing tactics of others by blatantly smoking in their presence.

During all these years, despite frustration, discouragement, and failure, or perhaps because of it, I avidly read everything I could find on smoking, hoping something would grab my attention enough to jolt me out of my self-destructive behavior. Mostly I just became more distressed and disgusted by my weakness.

I tried countless methods such as a smoking cessation program designed to change behavior patterns, culminating in total nicotine abstinence in 30 days. I tried cold turkey. I used cigarette holders designed to "wean" the nicotine addict.

Then there was the lettuce leaf cigarette-it smelled more foul than tobacco. The cocoa cigarette smelled and tasted good, but I still wanted a "real" cigarette afterward. Nicotine gum was another aid. None of these methods alone brought lasting success.

For several weeks prior to Memorial Day 1988, 1 planned for my independence from cigarettes. Yet the very thought of life without them was distressing. The first few days were tough but not impossible. I was high on resolve.

Although there were definite cravings, I expected them to diminish eventually, so I handled them by eating carrot sticks, going for walks, going to bed early, etc.

I think it was day three without cigarettes that I first fell apart and bought a pack. I was so distraught that I smoked five in a row, hoping I'd feel so horrible that I'd never pick up another one. Then I flushed the rest down the toilet to make sure I wouldn't do the same thing again in a few hours. The bad part of this episode was that I reintroduced nicotine into my system after it had begun to be cleaned out. So in effect I set myself up for more anguish.

Another day in early June, I was on the brink of throwing in the towel. Seeking to soothe the screaming craving in my body, I decided to splurge at my favorite ice-cream shop with a luscious hot fudge sundae. It didn't satisfy the empty spot.

As a last resort, I stopped at the public library and rented a smoking-cessation video put out by the American Cancer Society. It gave me the boost and shot of hope I desperately needed to get through another day. I realized I was waging battle on at least three fronts: physical, emotional, and psychological.

The physical addiction leaves first-when the body is cleansed of nicotine. For some, the more difficult aspects are emotional and psychological dependency. Unfortunately, I fell into that category, and my battle was long and fierce.

My journal for early June recorded the following fragmented expression of what I was experiencing: "Every a.m. is difficult-facing the day without cigarettes; under great stress; intense anger rises up at dependency and physical discomfort; chewed nicotine gum a.m. and after lunch: feel like I'm taking a tranquilizer-very calming, but realize addiction is being satisfied-just in a different form. Will I ever stop feeling this way? Am I prolonging the agony by chewing nicotine gum? This is the most difficult thing I've ever done. I need to see light- to know this will pass. How long must I endure and persevere? I want, I desire, control and discipline-victory. I need to feel some success.

"I feel overwhelmed, sad, desperate, horrible. My nerve endings feel raw. I feel like a bomb ready to explode-violence dominates and prevails. This is so awful. If drug addicts, alcoholics, etc., have these intense emotions, no wonder violent crime is rampant. I crave freedom from this, not by satisfying it, but by breaking away from it.

"Sometimes I feel as though the oppression is suffocating me. I want to go to sleep and wake up free, or to run, or to hide, to go into some kind of oblivion until it passes and is over. 0 God, deliver me from this thing. Please, please, please. How long can I withstand?"

As the days passed that summer of'88, I became stronger and less stressed. I did find relief as the habit diminished its hold upon me. My solace was the Psalms. Seeking escape, I would go to bed early and search the Psalms for strength and comfort. Every time the word "enemy" was recorded, I substituted "cigarette". I especially clung to these verses: "I will call upon the Lord to save me-and he will. I will pray morning, noon, and night, pleading aloud with God; and he will hear and answer" (Psalm 55:16,17)1. "Give your burdens to the Lord. He will carry them. He will not permit the godly to slip or fall. He will send my enemies to the pit of destruction" Psalm 55:22,23). "Lord, saving me will bring glory to your name. Bring me out of all this trouble because you are true to your promises. And because you are loving and kind to me, cut off all my enemies and destroy those who are trying to harm me; for I am your servant" (Psalm 143:11,12).

Victory was not swift, but instead, long and arduous. Perhaps because it was such a long, hard battle, the victory has remained! My prayer life was especially active, expressing the gamut of my emotions. Some days I would be full of praise for what was being accomplished in my body; other days I would literally scream out in anguish for God to do something to alleviate my pain; and then, some days I would simply weep.

Since that summer, almost three years ago, much has been accomplished in my life in addition to the obvious freedom from nicotine. During the quitting process, I gained 20 pounds on top of an already too heavy body. Eventually, when everything stabilized, I joined a weight loss group and also began a new sport: running! All this-just a few months prior to my fortieth birthday! Not only did I lose a total of 35 pounds; today I also compete in area running races and have even placed in my age group! I continue to run 5 to 10 miles daily and to enjoy my new eating habits. I have never felt more vibrant or healthy! I praise God every day for the miraculous work He has accomplished in my life! Shari Philmeck is a free-lance writer from Tunkhannock, Pennsylvania. (*) Bible texts in this article are from The Living Bible copyright [C]1971 by Tyndale House Publishers, Wheaton, Ill. Used by permission.