Post by Ann on Jan 18, 2005 9:34:31 GMT -5
Turning the Corner
Seems to be a common occurrence... Usually, somewhere between say 4 weeks and 4 months, sometimes a tad earlier, occasionally a bit later, we reach a hurdle. We've been through withdrawal. We've gotten ourselves really good at reconditioning triggers. But, something's still lingering. I've seen it described as a sense of doubt, a dread, a dark cloud. It's threatening. It's frightening.
Here's my take. And, it's based in part on the grieving process associated with giving up nicotine, but not entirely. I believe the hurdle we reach has to do with the bridge from depression (the 4th phase of the grieving process) to acceptance (the 5th and final phase). Crossing that bridge is the final major hurdle, and many of us find ourselves with our feet stuck in the muck of depression as we struggle with what appears to be a daunting crossing.
During our pre-quit, our withdrawal, and our early trigger reconditioning, we deal with heavy doses of the first 3 stages (denial, anger, bargaining). It's not always pleasant, but it IS something we can sink our teeth into. There's something to push against. As long as we've got a tangible enemy to fight, things tend to be, if not pleasant, exciting and clear-cut. Meet your enemy head on . . . defeat it with truth, and sometimes sheer stubbornness.
Then, gradually, the struggle lessens. Comfort begins to kick in. We discover, "Hey! this is doable!"
BUT. . .
as we sit there, face to face with the prospect of our own success:
--The tangible struggle fades. Triggers happen, but they're fewer and farther between. We know how to deal with them now, and we recognize that they're temporary. Physical withdrawal seems a distant memory. The excitement is over. It's just me and my life, and it's time to get on with it. And, nicotine isn't a part of it. Neither is "quitting" -- I DID quit. In some ways it's like the aftermath of hosting a big party. The madness of preparation, the fun of the festivities . . . then, everyone's gone home, and there's just clean-up to do, and work the next day.
--We ponder our success. We ponder our identity. We're on the verge of making a transition. We've been a "smoker who's quitting" for weeks, maybe months. But, now we're feeling the comfort. We know it's doable in terms of winning the battles. We've won so many . . . but, now we're at the point where something is suddenly becoming very real . . . our identity as an ex-smoker. . . . Success.
This is acceptance . . . and for many of us, it's terrifying! In some respects, it's simply another form of junky reasoning. But, in this case, it hits where we're still most vulnerable . . . our identity . . . our self-confidence.
"I've smoked through everything. Every celebration. Every crisis. Every monotonous moment of boredom, every study session, after meals, during the drive, after shopping, after making love, at the bar, in the bathroom, at my desk, on my porch, with Jim Bob, with Sue, with my lawyer, with my doctor, after work, during breaks, at football games, at weddings. Smoking was part of my life through every difficulty, no matter how horrific, or inconsequential. I wanted to quit badly, but deep down inside, I wonder, "Can I really do this forever? Can I really manage to forge a new life for myself where I do all of the things that make up my day-to-day living without that constant security blanket?"
We question a future where celebrations and defeats, excitement and boredom are experienced without the presence of the powerful drug to which we were actively addicted for years. We question our mettle. We've made it this far, and we've proven to ourselves that it's doable. But, now we're playing for keeps. This is for good. This is permanent. Can we imagine the rest of our life as an ex-smoker?
It feels particularly difficult when we're going through it for a couple of reasons.
1) we haven't had to struggle that hard lately, and it catches us unprepared.
2) the very nature of the transition -- acceptance of yourself as an ex-smoker -- is rooted in permanence. Where before, the struggles were day-to-day, this is suddenly about me vs. eternity.
-------
So, what to do?
The truth is that dealing with this transition is not really all that different from how we deal with all the other hurdles we've faced since we quit.
We make this transition by getting back to the fundamentals that got us to this point.
Honesty
--Was smoking really a part of my identity? Did it define, in part, who I am? Or, was smoking a way to relieve the discomfort of nicotine withdrawal every half-hour or so?
--Are my memories of smoking drifting toward the "ahh" cigarette, and neglecting all the other, mindlessly smoked ones, forced into the cold to poison myself, late-night runs to the liquor store to spend hard-earned money on a fix, staining my fingers and teeth, making me reek, giving my children scratchy throats, turning colds into bronchitis, threatening me with early death and disfigurement with every puff?
--If I smoked today, how would I truly feel tonight? Tomorrow? Next year... Ponder it for a bit. Envision yourself back on the other side of the line, looking back across it at yourself now. Picture yourself with the stick in your mouth, inhaling, knowing the full-measure of what that cigarette was doing to you. Question whether you'd rather be reminiscing about the odd "ahh" cigarette once in a while, or be reminiscing about the few weeks/months of comfort you achieved when you quit.
--Remind yourself that there is no such thing as one, and extrapolate it out over the years. Shine the light of truth on it. Have a look around at elderly smokers (the ones who've made it to old age). Put yourself in their shoes. Remember which side of the line you're on. Remind yourself why you chose this side of the line.... why you want to stay on this side.
One day at a time
Permanence is frightening. But, it's achievable in small doses. Just because you're an "experienced quitter" doesn't mean the basic principles change. Today is doable. The next hour is doable.
Never stop celebrating
Quitting smoking is a tremendous gift you've given yourself. Unlike many other gifts, this one should never lose its luster over time. In fact, the opposite is true. Over time, this gift becomes more important, more impactful..... Measure it in terms of health, self-esteem, life, freedom..... but MEASURE IT. Celebrate every day of this gift. You've earned it.
Acceptance is an Embrace
Finally, don't simply accept your new status -- "ex-smoker"; Embrace it. Sit down and look at it honestly. Compare this new identity to the old one (whatever label you want to attach to what you were when you smoked.... I was a slave). Separate yourself for a minute, and observe the 2 "yous" as an impartial 3rd party. Look them over thoroughly. Which do you want for yourself? Choose one. And, then, embrace it. Life will go on, there will be good days, and bad days. Terrible sadness, and joyous elation. Regardless what life is bringing you at the moment, embrace this thing that is only positive. Embrace your decision for life.
found on Quitnet
Seems to be a common occurrence... Usually, somewhere between say 4 weeks and 4 months, sometimes a tad earlier, occasionally a bit later, we reach a hurdle. We've been through withdrawal. We've gotten ourselves really good at reconditioning triggers. But, something's still lingering. I've seen it described as a sense of doubt, a dread, a dark cloud. It's threatening. It's frightening.
Here's my take. And, it's based in part on the grieving process associated with giving up nicotine, but not entirely. I believe the hurdle we reach has to do with the bridge from depression (the 4th phase of the grieving process) to acceptance (the 5th and final phase). Crossing that bridge is the final major hurdle, and many of us find ourselves with our feet stuck in the muck of depression as we struggle with what appears to be a daunting crossing.
During our pre-quit, our withdrawal, and our early trigger reconditioning, we deal with heavy doses of the first 3 stages (denial, anger, bargaining). It's not always pleasant, but it IS something we can sink our teeth into. There's something to push against. As long as we've got a tangible enemy to fight, things tend to be, if not pleasant, exciting and clear-cut. Meet your enemy head on . . . defeat it with truth, and sometimes sheer stubbornness.
Then, gradually, the struggle lessens. Comfort begins to kick in. We discover, "Hey! this is doable!"
BUT. . .
as we sit there, face to face with the prospect of our own success:
--The tangible struggle fades. Triggers happen, but they're fewer and farther between. We know how to deal with them now, and we recognize that they're temporary. Physical withdrawal seems a distant memory. The excitement is over. It's just me and my life, and it's time to get on with it. And, nicotine isn't a part of it. Neither is "quitting" -- I DID quit. In some ways it's like the aftermath of hosting a big party. The madness of preparation, the fun of the festivities . . . then, everyone's gone home, and there's just clean-up to do, and work the next day.
--We ponder our success. We ponder our identity. We're on the verge of making a transition. We've been a "smoker who's quitting" for weeks, maybe months. But, now we're feeling the comfort. We know it's doable in terms of winning the battles. We've won so many . . . but, now we're at the point where something is suddenly becoming very real . . . our identity as an ex-smoker. . . . Success.
This is acceptance . . . and for many of us, it's terrifying! In some respects, it's simply another form of junky reasoning. But, in this case, it hits where we're still most vulnerable . . . our identity . . . our self-confidence.
"I've smoked through everything. Every celebration. Every crisis. Every monotonous moment of boredom, every study session, after meals, during the drive, after shopping, after making love, at the bar, in the bathroom, at my desk, on my porch, with Jim Bob, with Sue, with my lawyer, with my doctor, after work, during breaks, at football games, at weddings. Smoking was part of my life through every difficulty, no matter how horrific, or inconsequential. I wanted to quit badly, but deep down inside, I wonder, "Can I really do this forever? Can I really manage to forge a new life for myself where I do all of the things that make up my day-to-day living without that constant security blanket?"
We question a future where celebrations and defeats, excitement and boredom are experienced without the presence of the powerful drug to which we were actively addicted for years. We question our mettle. We've made it this far, and we've proven to ourselves that it's doable. But, now we're playing for keeps. This is for good. This is permanent. Can we imagine the rest of our life as an ex-smoker?
It feels particularly difficult when we're going through it for a couple of reasons.
1) we haven't had to struggle that hard lately, and it catches us unprepared.
2) the very nature of the transition -- acceptance of yourself as an ex-smoker -- is rooted in permanence. Where before, the struggles were day-to-day, this is suddenly about me vs. eternity.
-------
So, what to do?
The truth is that dealing with this transition is not really all that different from how we deal with all the other hurdles we've faced since we quit.
We make this transition by getting back to the fundamentals that got us to this point.
Honesty
--Was smoking really a part of my identity? Did it define, in part, who I am? Or, was smoking a way to relieve the discomfort of nicotine withdrawal every half-hour or so?
--Are my memories of smoking drifting toward the "ahh" cigarette, and neglecting all the other, mindlessly smoked ones, forced into the cold to poison myself, late-night runs to the liquor store to spend hard-earned money on a fix, staining my fingers and teeth, making me reek, giving my children scratchy throats, turning colds into bronchitis, threatening me with early death and disfigurement with every puff?
--If I smoked today, how would I truly feel tonight? Tomorrow? Next year... Ponder it for a bit. Envision yourself back on the other side of the line, looking back across it at yourself now. Picture yourself with the stick in your mouth, inhaling, knowing the full-measure of what that cigarette was doing to you. Question whether you'd rather be reminiscing about the odd "ahh" cigarette once in a while, or be reminiscing about the few weeks/months of comfort you achieved when you quit.
--Remind yourself that there is no such thing as one, and extrapolate it out over the years. Shine the light of truth on it. Have a look around at elderly smokers (the ones who've made it to old age). Put yourself in their shoes. Remember which side of the line you're on. Remind yourself why you chose this side of the line.... why you want to stay on this side.
One day at a time
Permanence is frightening. But, it's achievable in small doses. Just because you're an "experienced quitter" doesn't mean the basic principles change. Today is doable. The next hour is doable.
Never stop celebrating
Quitting smoking is a tremendous gift you've given yourself. Unlike many other gifts, this one should never lose its luster over time. In fact, the opposite is true. Over time, this gift becomes more important, more impactful..... Measure it in terms of health, self-esteem, life, freedom..... but MEASURE IT. Celebrate every day of this gift. You've earned it.
Acceptance is an Embrace
Finally, don't simply accept your new status -- "ex-smoker"; Embrace it. Sit down and look at it honestly. Compare this new identity to the old one (whatever label you want to attach to what you were when you smoked.... I was a slave). Separate yourself for a minute, and observe the 2 "yous" as an impartial 3rd party. Look them over thoroughly. Which do you want for yourself? Choose one. And, then, embrace it. Life will go on, there will be good days, and bad days. Terrible sadness, and joyous elation. Regardless what life is bringing you at the moment, embrace this thing that is only positive. Embrace your decision for life.
found on Quitnet
