"They're cool, available, and *addictive*. The job is almost done for us."

Holy shit. It's been 6 weeks since I've had a cigarette.

How I started 

I started when I was 15. I went away to boarding school because I needed more structure in my life. I'm not making that sound right. My mother sent me away because I needed more structure in my life. It wasn't malicious or punitive, she just saw the writing on the wall: I was hanging out with losers, starting to let my grades slip, and staying out late trying to hit on girls.

So I went to the Kiskimenitas Spring School for Boys. 250 boys, 50 teachers. It's nowhere, cold, and boring. I started because I wanted to make friends, didn't want to be bored, and it was the easiest way to bond with a bunch of dudes I didn't know - do bad stuff. Here's the problem though, I was under 18, so I couldn't actually smoke on the campus unless I got written permission from my mom. She and I got into a big argument over it because I didn't want to be there and she wanted to have me not be upset with her for sending me away. I guilted her into it. It's easily one of the worst decisions I've made. Looking back, I didn't even need the cigarettes to make friends. It began a long relationship with something designed to kill me.

I wasn't even a heavy smoker until the middle of college. Stress and cheap beer will typically do that.

Both of my parents were smokers. Until two weeks ago, my mother smoked two packs a day of Virginia Slim Ultra Lights. and my father smoked Salem regulars. He quit a few years back though. I felt like I was never going to escape poisoning myself, but I wasn't fated to it, I just made several bad decisions along the way. But wait, that's not the FIRST first time, because I remember taking one of my dad's Salems when I was 12 and snuck off to do it in the back yard. I felt like I was going to pass out from the nicotine high. I puked and thought, "how do people do this?"

But like every smoker, there were periods when I'd quit:

• During football and wrestling pre-seasons I wouldn't smoke at all: July and August, October and November I was pristine. Those farm parties were annoying to be sober at
• Junior year of college, I didn't have one the entire fall semester. I made a new years resolution to start smoking again (I KNOW, DON'T ROLL YOUR EYES!)
• In 2007, I quit for a month in January, April, and October 
• Last August, for 4 weeks straight I would quit Sunday night and be smoking again by Wednesday night/ Thursday morning. I wanted 30 to be a new start

It never stuck because I didn't have the desire to maintain it because I always thought I'd be fine. That's the thing though, you're completely fine until you're not. Then it's shortness of breath, nagging cough, chest pains, oxygen tanks, slow walking, hospital beds, sad faces around you, graying skin, overwhelming exhaustion, the inability to live, and then darkness.

How I quit

This past Christmas Day I woke up before everyone and started making breakfast: Cheesy eggs, hash browns, bacon, a pot of coffee. In my mom's house, it's impossible to be the first one up. I got up at 5, whipped the eggs, shredded the potatoes, ran the bacon under cold water, and started the coffee brewing. Randy came down first. we talked over a pot of coffee. I apologized for wrapping only some of his gifts. We puffed away and waited for people to wake up. Grand-dad came down next. He smoked for 20 years, but quit when he was 40, and complains every day he's in Virginia about how smoky the house is. My mom came down last.

She's normally a very talkative, chipper, erudite person - even at 6 AM. That day she sounded way off. It was like she had been drinking. But it was first thing in the morning and I knew that wasn't right. She seemed all out of sorts. She wanted to lay down and go back to sleep, but I was concerned. I told her we should at least get her checked out and then come back and celebrate Christmas. We butted heads about it, but I told her to get dressed or I'd dress her like a little kid and take her over.  She laughed at me, lit a cigarette, and showed me she was A-OK. I couldn't understand what she said. I walked her upstairs, she got dressed, we all went. She had an "eschemic event" according to the doctor. A stroke. They said if she slept in it could've been a bigger event. They told her two things: 1) quit smoking, 2) change your diet. Not as suggestions but as mandatory to live.

She has willpower like crazy, but she couldn't kick the addiction to those stupid coffin nails and it nearly killed her. I had to come back to DC for the day to get my work computer because the boss needed me. I came home the morning of the 26th and was back to Hampton by the next morning. Over the next few days, before she was finally discharged, we talked about what they were going to do. According to them, nothing was going to change. Over the next few weeks, we had long talks about why we should stop. They got heated each time and I got pissed at them both for not seeing something very real was happening as we spoke.

I wish there was a great, rousing speech that happened or meteor landed at my feet when I stubbed out the last one. No speech, no gesture from the heavens. I told my mom,"I love you and want you to be a great grandmother if I have kids. We've got a lot of life left Chantal." I put the butt in the bottle, threw the bottle in the trash, and wished her goodnight.

Two weeks ago she and my step-dad quit. I got them e-cigarettes and refillable cartidges, so there's water vapor and nicotine. Considering how much they puff, it'll probably be pricey for a while. I'm fine with that. That's much more agreeable than hot smoke. I get two people I love to stick around longer. Also, I've learned to appreciate the boredom and quiet.