Why is it so difficult to break bad habits? Why have I stayed addicted to smoking cigarettes for 10 years now knowing they have wreaked havoc on my health and wellbeing? It’s a question I have found myself repeatedly asking for a while now. I have been struggling to break free from my addiction to nicotine. Externally, I have watched three close family members die from the damages that smoking causes. I held my dads hand as he died of respiratory failure for hell’s sake, and somehow I can’t shake free from my addiction. Internally, it’s dragging my confidence quickly down to zero and my life and wallet with it.
I’ve come to the startling awareness recently that my pack a day habit is quickly catching up to me. It’s hard to breathe when doing normal activities, I have no energy or motivation, the life looks like it has been sucked right out of me. Now, I know the nature of addiction is that quitting is extremely difficult, that people suffer for years. I also know that nicotine in and of itself doesn’t have many withdrawal effects, that it is mainly a mental addiction that I need to overcome. That is not to say people don’t and won’t find it difficult to quit, but that it is more the mental dependency (the habit and associations made) that’s hard to break and not the actual physical addiction.
Growing up I watched my dad smoke marlboro red softpacks my whole childhood, and the smell was always comforting to me. It smelled like my dad, it smelled like I was home and I was safe. As I got older and grew into my angsty teen years, I found myself drawn to the ‘manic pixie dream girl’ and Effy from skin archetypal characters that were popular in the 2012 era of the internet. If you are unfamiliar, it is the girl whose life is a mess in a chaotic way, they are always partying and everything seems to be tragic and traumatic. The twist is that it was always romanticized, the women were beautiful, never quite put together fully but always eye catching and dramatically pretty. I identified with that type of character, I idolized that type of character. I went to a private high school almost fully on financial aid and only had a barely passable public school education. That’s not to say I wasn’t smart, but I was different. My parents didn’t have money, I didn’t have designer anything, and I had never gone skiing- let alone go out of the country on winter break just to go skiing. So I made it my personality. Beautiful, tragic in a way, and chaotic. White trash to some, “hipster” if you are still living in 2012, and going through life with unhealthy coping mechanisms looking back as an adult.
I started equating a lot of that to smoking. I started creating this identity for myself that I would hide behind, this tough exterior of a girl that could get through anything no matter how difficult it was. I didn’t get addicted to nicotine until I was probably 17 or so, and even then it was not a hard and fast habit. By the time I was 18, I was addicted to smoking marlboro red 100s thinking that I was cool. It was a way to differentiate myself, prove my so-called toughness, and continue building this identity I had cultivated.
The college I went to and the subsequent town surrounding it was also extremely wealthy, and just like in high school I found smoking cigarettes as a method of differentiating myself from the privilege and class of everyone around me- as well as being addicted by that point. Being completely honest I was intimidated by it, I always wanted to be the girl that had her life together. I couldn’t see at the time that it was entirely possible for me to be that which I wanted, so I instead clung to this image I had of myself. Smoking cigarettes, and marbolo red hundreds was part of that identity.
That persona, the way I saw myself slowing started changing as I entered my twenties. By 22, I no longer felt like that was fully who I was. By that point, nicotine was a constant. Vaping had become popular and I switched to that only to become more addicted than I ever was before. I knew it was bad for me, I knew I never wanted to smoke forever. The time to quit was never right, and I was still drinking heavily which didn’t help in the slightest. The years went by and I found myself making excuse after excuse, never wanting to fully commit to the change I knew it would bring. I had cemented myself in this personality in my head, and no matter how hard I have wanted to break free, part of me still clings to it.
But now, at 27 years old, I desperately wish I could go back and tell 17 year old Jess to put that shit away. That it will lead to more complications than you would ever wish for, a crippling addiction that is draining the life out of you. The thing is, part of me still identifies with 17 year old me trying to prove herself. Still wanting to be that tragically beautiful and chaotic woman that smokes and drinks and seems to have everything work out in the end. The tough as nails woman that grows up through tragedy and winters every storm with a begrudging peace and a smoke outside in the quiet moonlight. I don’t know how to get rid of that part of me. A small voice says I don’t have to get rid of that part of me.
The funny thing is I quit drinking a year and a half ago now. I couldn’t tell you the last time I went to a party that didn’t involve my family. My life is not necessarily simple, but it is no longer chaotic. I have plans, I have a stable job, and I no longer look up and revere that tragic female character. But I still have been unsuccessful at quitting. A large part of me knows it’s because it will change everything in my life, and I am not great at dealing with changes. That by making this decision, albeit a positive one, I am closing the door on a life I once lived and a version of myself that survived a lot.
I can’t let that fear of the unknown, the uncertainty that this change will bring, stop me from making the right choice in this matter. I have doggedly tried to change my life, become healthier, and overcome my anxiety. Quitting smoking is the single best decision I could make to move forward positively in every direction. With that being said, it’s time to get uncomfortable for a few days in order to step into this new version of myself that doesn’t hide behind false identities and fear.
