Extinguishing old flames
By Khaled Diab
Like
someone who hitches up with a despised old flame after years apart, I'm kicking
myself for having taken up smoking again.
May 2008
Until a few months ago, I was
confident I’d kissed tobacco goodbye. In the spring of 2003, I triumphantly
stubbed out my last cigarette – or so I thought at the time. For more than four
years, I successfully kept temptation at arm’s length. I’d heard from other
smokers that you are never completely in the clear, even after decades without
a smoke. Then, last summer, during a stressful work period, it all went up in
smoke.
At first, I only had the odd smoke,
but I was soon back into the old swing of things. I
should’ve paid more attention to my own self-knowledge. I have long known that,
with cigarettes, I am incapable of a simple fling or of hooking up occasionally
for some casual lip action. With me, nicotine is far more possessive than that.
Although I must admit that I enjoy a
smoke while it lasts, I loathe the undoubted damage it is doing to my long-term
health, the periodic coughs it causes and the diminished self-esteem of
dependency. Moreover, smoking is becoming less fun as smokers are increasingly
treated by the establishment as social pariahs.
It is remarkable how far we have
come in the last few decades. There was a time when doctors smoked in their
clinics and ads made such outrageous claims as: “More doctors smoke Camel than any other
cigarette”, or that medical researchers say Chesterfields are good for you. Today, Marlboro Country has been
wiped off the cultural map and smokers have been banished to burn in social
purgatory.
I have no sympathy for tobacco
companies and the way they have misled and even outright lied for decades.
However, I feel the stigmatisation of smokers has gone too far, as has the obsession
with passive smoking. If cigarette smoke was the only type of toxic fume in our
environment, then I would be able to understand the extent of this
apprehension. But I would hazard to say that, particularly in large cities, we
suffer far worse health consequences from the second-hand smoke of vehicle
exhausts, yet I see no concerted effort to pass legislation to limit the size
and number of cars on our roads nor, say, to force city dwellers to take public
transport during peak hours.
By all means, ban cigarettes from
work places and restaurants, but why on earth in bars (luckily, it hasn’t gone
this far here in
I don’t know how much of my
addiction is chemical and how much psychological. If I have been without a
cigarette for a few hours, I do feel physical pangs. But another problem with
tobacco is how smokers eventually associate cigarettes with a wide spectrum of
emotional states. Feeling stressed? Have a cigarette to calm your nerves.
Excited? Chill with a ciggi. Bored? Kill some time
with a cancer stick. Out with mates? Why not bring along your fag friends to
the party.
After all the effort it had taken to
kick the habit, I am now kicking myself that I allowed my resolve to crumble
so. And giving up this time is proving to be no easier than the first time,
apart from the reassuring knowledge that, if I’ve done it before, I can
certainly do it again.
Looking back, there was no single
magic bullet that enabled me to quit. I managed it without the aid of nicotine
patches, partly because I was somewhat concerned that I might swap one
addiction for another, nor self-help guides, even the much-recommended one by Allen Carr, because I am sceptical and
distrustful of such literature, which usually helps the author (financially,
that is) more than the reader.
I suppose motivation was an
important factor. At the time, I was a few months away from 30 and was hit by
two realisations: if I didn’t give up soon, I would’ve puffed away my entire
20s; and, by the time I was 32, I would’ve smoked away half my life. In
addition, for the first time, I was beginning to feel the accumulated effect of
13 years of smoking in my lungs.
Over my smoking career, I had taken
a number of unsuccessful stabs at quitting. The approach of cutting down
gradually, in particular, tended to fail because, sooner or later, something
would happen to spark a relapse, such as a hectic workday or a social event
where there were a lot of smokers around. Also, telling people around you of
your intentions to quit raised expectations and, with them, stress levels, so I
avoided informing friends and colleagues until I was in the clear.
For me, perhaps the toughest part of
giving up was the dread associated with the idea that I was committing myself
to not lighting up ever again; never again meditating on that (un)holy smoke;
never again dragging on the essence of the peace pipe (writing this article fills me with
the urge to light up, but I am resisting).
The way I overcame this was to take
a more fatalistic approach to my days, to dwell, Zen-like, on the present
moment and leave the future to its own devices. Of course, the first few days
were the toughest, because there was the additional factor of dealing with the
chemical withdrawal symptoms. However, I surprised myself in that I did not
become more irritable or high-strung and most people did not even notice I had
given up (perhaps it had something to do with my self-imposed meditative
fatalism). Bars were also a no-go area for several weeks, since beer and fags
go together like salt and vinegar or cheese and onions.
I have not yet mustered up enough
determination to go through the ordeal of giving up again, but I’m working on
it. I’ve cut out smoking during the day and only smoke a couple of cigarettes
in the evening. But I know how fragile such efforts can be, if not consolidated
rapidly with complete abstention.
This article should not be read as a
pledge to give up but as an exploration of the trials and tribulations of
nicotine addiction. All I can do is promise to seize the right moment to give up,
without any public announcements, when it presents itself.
This column appeared
in The Guardian Unlimited’s
Comment is Free section on
19 April 2008. Read the related
discussion.
ã2008 K. Diab. Unless otherwise stated, all the content on this website is the
copyright of Khaled Diab.