by Carolyn Moore
For those who do not smoke, they may wonder why people light up in the first place. On a micro-level, some may have smokers in their nuclear or extended family, where cigarettes are readily available. Others smoke to feel comfortable in social situations. I was walking around with a pack of cigarettes at 6. I believed the lie that smoking was a socially acceptable behavior. Often young people feel a sense of camaraderie as they sneak a smoke with their peers. Regardless of how a smoker's journey begins, all will agree, it is a hard habit to kick.
My cigarette story begins at the local C&E drug store, at 6. My mom was a school bus driver and always took me to work with her to avoid sending me to a babysitter. On a middle level, between high school and elementary school runs, the school bus drivers would gather to socialize in the café, at the rear of the drugstore. Although my mom didn’t smoke, most of the school bus drivers were smokers and smoking was permissible inside establishments. As a young, impressionable girl, I watched intently as the men would respectfully light the women’s cigarettes as they shared their stories and laughed.
On a micro-level, from time to time, as a special treat, my mom would take me down the drug store candy aisle and allow me to pick out something. There it was, right at my eye level, Victory candy cigarettes! I wanted to fit in with my mom's friends and join in on their morning fun. With no qualms, mom purchased the candy cigarettes. Immediately, I imitated the school bus drivers. Gracefully, I would pull out a candy cigarette from the very realistic cigarette package, and I would pretend to inhale the cigarette and exhale the smoke. I felt a sense of belonging as they positively reinforced my behavior.
Fast forward about eight years, I was a teenager who was overweight, introverted and trying to deal with more than my share of family issues. In my mind, I only wanted three things, and that was to feel loved, to be thin and to fit in. On a macro-level, the tobacco industry’s glamorous, exciting, and portrayed-as-safe magazine advertisements had a large influence on me. I fantasized about a different future as I viewed the Newport “Alive with Pleasure!” magazine advertisements. They claimed, “After all, if smoking isn’t a pleasure, why bother?” The marketing executives knew what they were doing as they grabbed the viewer's attention with their sexual innuendo’s, leading the reader to read between the lines. The beautiful and playful women, accompanied by the hottest men, were laughing, and having a great time. They had the life that I wanted.
On the middle-level, at 15, I found myself drawn to the crowd of kids who hung out on “the wall.” The wall was where all the cool kids hung out at my high school. Others argued that they were better known as the rebels. They all met before school, just off the school property, to hang out and smoke. Desiring to fit in, I purchased my first pack of cigarettes and pretended to inhale. It reminded me of my younger days at the C&E drug store, only this time I was smoking the real thing. I remember the first time I inhaled; there was a burning in my throat, and I coughed uncontrollably. I even threw up the first few times that I inhaled the tobacco.
By my 16th birthday, I would be considered a closet smoker. My cigarette smoking had grown from meeting with peers outside the school grounds to sneaking outside my bedroom window. Nobody in my nuclear or extended family smoked and although, on a micro-level, my mother bought me my first candy cigarettes, they strongly disapproved of my smoking nicotine-packed cigarettes. When I graduated high school, I was smoking a pack of cigarettes a day and using nicotine to sooth and numb my emotions. They appeared to distract me from the stresses of everyday life. I believed that cigarettes made my life more manageable, and smoking was socially acceptable behavior. I developed ritualistic habits with plenty of triggers. With my unquenchable cravings for a cigarette, I believed that no meal was complete without one, and a cup of coffee and a cigarette went hand in hand. If I had one option, I preferred cigarettes over food.
As I moved into my single thirties, I found pleasure dressing with class and elegance while sipping wine with influential men, as we smoked fine cigars at five-star food establishments. I used smoking as a socialization tool, as is portrayed in the middle- level. I was reinventing the Newport advertisements in my life, without even recognizing it. To outsiders, I was well put together and a social butterfly. I was no longer in control of the cigarettes; they had taken control of me and my life. I planned my day around smoking cigarettes. My addiction sadly had become central in my life. They were my idol. After the lure and seduction of smoking dissipated, I found myself chained to the guilt of my addiction and covered with the shame of the deception that I bought into.
Transitioning from my thirties to forties, I had a religious experience and examined the effects of cigarette smoking. I noticed the fine lines had formed around my lips, the smell of tobacco that infused my clothing, and the shortness of breath that had me reaching for my inhaler. Wanting to escape the death grip of cigarettes, I tried self-help suggestions. I bought nicotine patches, received hypnosis, and tried to quit cold turkey without success. When I finally had come to the end of myself, I called out to Jesus for help. He rescued and delivered me from the stronghold that nicotine had firmly established in my life. With a big thank you to Jesus, I am celebrating 5 years of being smoke free.
