Allow me to explain what being a smoker feels like;
Imagine you’re opening a tap, and you dip your finger into the stream. A glass is filled with crystal clear water. To the touch, the water is cold, but on your tongue, the water is foreign. It is not quenching or sustaining anything but your bodies innate longing for hydration. On your tongue, the water is warm, adultered and stripped of its value. I decided to persecute the cells on my tongue, singing a slow, ritual lullaby of death.
I engaged in ten pulls of seven to ten cigarettes every day for nine months. My body is made up of 70% water and yet today, it’s first interaction with my insides is disgusting. Is my body even worthy of Godly liquid? Should I stick to the fizzy Coca Cola so that I can actually taste the fizz and the heaps of sugar? Is that the goodness I have reduced myself to.
There is a trend amongst brown girls, but girls in general to try smoking a cigarette. I told myself that trying could not harm me because addiction is a choice. I justified my beginnings because I wanted to learn the trend, to experience what it felt like to be in the social environment of smokers. I had seen smokers looking cool, nothing more or less. On the television, the movies and adverts painted smoking as glamorous. If anything, I was allowing myself the opportunity to be cool. The best scenes in the movies went down with a cigarette in hand, excitement on the end of each pull, words more fluent, thoughts more clear. I was promised this lifestyle by Hollywood, that is if I had a cigarette in my hand.
On the contrary, I can no longer taste water and I am nauseous, literally and figuratively. At this very moment, as I sit with my orange book and a black pen- spilling onto a page, I can not comprehend why I will ever reach for a cigarette. There is a disconnect between what I want to do and what I am doing. My beliefs are no longer in line with my actions, and this gives way for dishonesty. I can’t even trust myself to listen to myself. What else can my body do to itself against my will?
It is a difficult but crucial decision to quit. I remember once I quit for a week. Husnaa physically detained me with the weight of her body a few times, for which I am grateful. She was teaching me to be stronger. I had made a decision that week to intervene in the ‘fun’ before things got any worse. That week, I felt free, but like I was partaking in a fast that never ended. The physiological monster exits.
In 72 hours, the nicotine leaves the system, and picking up a cigarette is the beginning of the end, again. Nicotine is addictive. The psychological monster enjoys the habit of holding a cigarette and the feeling of hot air hitting your tongue. This monster is stronger than the other, because your dependence is psychological. I tried to play addiction, but addiction played me.
I never intended to be this dependent, to constantly have this large urge ringing in the back of my head. I’ll tell you this much, you can never be proud of smoking. Once you lose the ability to hold yourself accountable for your health, there is nothing more to life.
My health, in terms of allowing oneself to go through the ebbs and flows of life, is the end all and be all. My value lies in my choices, and allowing myself to be sired to a capitalistic stick of gunky tar, is not my choice. But I partake, like a sheep being herded in a field of idiots.
It is my firm belief that the best way to smoke a cigarette is to not smoke it. And the best brand, you ask, good old, free, oxygen. Smoke it. Smoke the living hell out of it.
So, a message to the non-smokers; avoid the temptation and do not be fooled by the illusion of grandeur. The land of temptation is an extremely strong place to be. It is a land where you are not fighting yourself, it is more of a friendly debate. Change that. Fight it, firmly. Don’t even allow the thought of it to tickle you. You are capable, healthy, and not reliant on a toxic substance. Be.
After noting these thoughts, I can confirm that the best way to quit is cold turkey. I am not sure where this phrase originates from, but it’s essence is ‘stop right now’.
Wish me luck and hold me to it.
P.s. since writing this article, I have not smoked a cigarette. It has been 18 days.
Passage taken from http://ladysauda.blogspot.co.za