Relapse

Last night while driving to class with a friend, I saw a young man smoking a cigarette in the school parking lot.  I groaned and said, "Ooooh, cigarette," to which my friend replied "You don't want that.  They're yucky!"  We both laughed and went on with the evening, and I'm sure my friend just took it as a joke.  But in truth, if he hadn't been there to talk me out of it, I think I would've walked up to the student and asked for one.  Life has been difficult lately, and now I'm faced again with an affliction that I had hoped would never resurface.

Boredom and stress.  That's a pretty effective summary of life lately.  Countless hours watching mundane new shows, sitcom reruns, and talk shows; cleaning my apartment with a Monk-like obsession; walking endlessly up and down the streets of my neighborhood, only to return to the same place.  I've gone to the park, I've visited friends, whatever I can do to alleviate my despair and anxiety without spending an insane amount of money which I clearly don't have.  A movie at the theater costs $10.00, an amount which seems petty, but when combined with the cost of gas (and the fact that I usually go alone), is just too great an expense for too little enjoyment.  School work keeps me busy for a while, but you can only reread a text so many times until the words just become a jumbled mass of nonsense and you lose interest.  Boredom, along with the stress of being unemployed, can be a dangerous combination for someone with an addiction, and I am not immune to those effects.

I was a smoker.  A very heavy smoker, in fact.  I could go through two or three packs of cigarettes like a lawn mower cutting down weeds.  There was no particular purpose for it.  Even on my good days, I had to light one up.  It became part of my identity:  Joshua Nolan, single, accountant, intelligent, smoker (though the last two would seem to contradict each other).  It took nearly a dozen tries before I was able to quit about three years ago.  I remember the relief I felt when I finally walked away from that habit, and aside from a couple of small slip-ups, I was free of the addiction...until recently.

My previous blog mentioned the effects that unemployment has had on me.  Desperation, lack of confidence, lethargy - all of them keep going in cycles, and grow more intense with each attempt and subsequent rejection.  Along with all that, the inability to do most of the things I enjoy (mostly due to cost), have left me with few options to keep myself out of this fog.  At some point, a person will try anything to just break up the monotony and to relieve some of the stress.  And in trying to keep myself occupied and avoid these feelings of worthlessness, I find I'm slipping up again.

Whenever anyone quits something as addictive as cigarettes, it's inevitable that they will occasionally have that urge, that craving that permeates the entire mind and body.  I experienced those feelings several times, and was always able to fight them off.  But now, the desire is almost unbearable.  I don't know why now, of all times, I'd feel the need to start smoking again.  Lord knows it's certainly not helpful for my financial situation, and the health effects are even worse.

But I won't lie; in recent months, I've indulged in that addiction more than once.  Despite conquering this disease after so many attempts, and being so proud of myself back then, I find myself once again drawn to the feeling of calm and relaxation when I light up a cigarette.  I can't say for sure what moment reignited my affliction; there have been many ups and downs in my life over the past year.  But somehow, when I wasn't paying attention, I fell back into this habit.  I haven't reached the level of chain-smoking like I did when I quit the last time, but I know I will if I don't stop soon.

I'm disappointed in myself, as I should be, and I'm sure several other people are.  The pride I felt at kicking this habit is now gone.  Instead of the comfort I was seeking, I've found more reason to dislike myself.  I hate feeling weak, but realizing that I'm susceptible to such indiscretion and foolishness proves that I am.  Sadly, that disappointment makes me want to smoke more, but I can't.  I have to stop it now, before I end up back where I was.  Smoking is a nasty, unhealthy, expensive, dangerous habit, and I won't risk ruining everything for which I fought so hard.  I just hope those who know me can understand my weakness, and bear with me as I try yet again to defeat it.  I certainly don't need to be chastised or berated.  That only makes my self-loathing worse.

Boredom and stress certainly had their roles in my relapse, but I think another problem exists: complacency.  When we fight an addiction, and succeed, we become comfortable with thinking that it's all over.  As we continue with our lives, we don't suspect that those afflictions will affect us again.  We're all better now.  We forget about the demons that once controlled our lives...but they don't forget about us.  It only takes one sip, one puff, or one roll of the dice to reawaken those monsters.  And we're forced to begin the struggle all over again.  Though I'd taken the occasional drag during moments of high stress, I still deluded myself into thinking that I was fine.  I could control my cravings, and just indulging once wouldn't hurt me.  I couldn't have been more wrong.  Hopefully, with God's help and the support of my friends, I'll be able to stop again, before it's too late.