The Zen of Cold Turkey

I smoked my last cigarette in the wee hours of Sunday, May 1st.  I wrote this seven days later.  Enjoy!

Here's an interesting fact- the first public anti-smoking campaign was ran by a failed artist and well-noted asshole named Adolf Hitler.

I decided to lead with that fact for three reasons. First, it's horrifyingly ironic that this man actually campaigned for health in any capacity while being the central figure in the Holocaust. The second is that my recently nicotine-deprived synapses are misfiring to the level that I think opening an article about quitting smoking with a Hitler fact is a good idea. The third is that even though my brain has forgotten how to brain when it comes to simple tasks like “operating a phone charger” and “not running to a gas station at mach 4 to buy a cigarettes” it's still great at fighting me when I make good decisions.

I'll give you some credit for that one, nicotine: Trying to get me to compare myself to Hitler to get yourself inside me is a clever, dastardly move. Bravo.

Here's the problem with quitting smoking: Your brain has to decide it's done with whatever you're quitting, and the chemicals in cigarettes are designed exactly to make your brain want cigarettes.

So what you have to do to kick this stupid fucking habit is throw your brain the finger and quit anyway, and see what what happens when you don't have your sin-sticks to lean on when you get frustrated, anxious, or depressed. At this point I should also mention that nicotine withdrawal causes frustration, anxiety, and depression.

One of the first things you will notice is that you won't be able to concentrate on anything. Try it: One minute you're reading random facts about Adolf Hitler and the next you're writing an article about going cold turkey on cigarettes. Then, in hindsight, you won't be able to remember where any transitional point was, until you remember that your stupid brain is the same stupid brain that decided “The Zen of Cold Turkey” was a clever name for a blog post.

Combined with this newfound inability to finish any thought that doesn't end in “cigarette” is a newfound cascade of boundless energy that drags you out of bed and moves you against your will (and never lets you sleep.) “More energy?” you might be thinking. “Shit, I'd start smoking just so I could stop and feel like there's some kind of improvement in my day to day ability to accomplish anything."

But don't worry- my withdrawal, who I'll start calling RJ for reasons that have nothing to do with anything lawyers might use to sue me, gets some of that energy too. Whereas before, whenever RJ wanted to hook up, he was subtle and cool, and not super clingy- “Hey Sam, netflix and chill... with a cigarette?”

RJ should understand that it's over now. I've ignored his calls, deleted his number, defriended him on facebook, and talked shit about him to all of my friends. But, instead of getting the obvious message and fucking off, he's turned into a weird, high intensity stalker- the kind who's both oblivious to the fact that he's no longer wanted and persistent enough to think he can still salvage a relationship. 

Every single time I finish a meal, or hook up with any other vice he doesn't like (exercise) or, even worse, when one he and I used to date at the same time (alcohol) he's right fucking there, blasting love songs at my window through a boom box above his head. HEY! HEY! MISS ME YET? CAN WE TALK? WHAT HAPPENED TO US? LET ME SEND YOU A PICTURE OF MY DICK! PLEASE COME BACK!

Since me and my sub-conscience now have all this extra energy, I need more fuel. Specifically, more calories than I ever thought I'd want. This translated into me wanting to eat everything I've seen since the beginning of this month. That is, until enough time passed that I got my sense of taste and smell back. Since then, I've wanted to eat everything else, too.

If you're serious about quitting, and you should be, because otherwise, you've gone through cravings, headaches, cravings, nausea, irritability, depression and cravings for absolutely NOTHING- then you're going to want to eat.

Don't deprive yourself! For the first time ever, by being a complete glutton, you're doing the right thing. For the last week, I've consumed more garbage than the disposal at Kathy Bates house, and what keeps me from crying every time I look at my stomach in the mirror is that I'm now saving 6 bucks a day by not spending it on something that was literally killing me. You can't find that kind of guilt absolution anywhere. I'm tempted to say that it's worth smoking just to quit again.

And I mean that seriously. That sentence was an actual thought that I had, put into my head by the same idiot brain that decided to start smoking to begin with (namely, my brain.)

In summation- fuck off, cigarettes. It was a fun fling at first, but then it turned into a dragging, abusive relationship that was 13 years too long.

(I've been told that before too long, I won't need to stop whatever I'm doing for five minutes to zone out while imagining what cigarette's tinder profile looks like. I can't fucking wait.)

Sam Lives in Austin, TX and really wants a cigarette.  Follow him on Twitter.  Got a question? Anything you want to hear about?  Email him at swellbo@gmail.com.