I started smoking cigarettes when I was 15. My cousin and I were bored on a hot summer day, feeling rather rebellious, and we walked to the corner store for a pack of menthol cigarettes. Which they let us buy because times were different. My cousin had two puffs, declared it nasty, and that was that. I inhaled, and the addiction center in my brain lit up with delight.
I spent the next five years desperately trying to quit a habit I loved, that hurt me, that owned me. Every birthday, every new year, every Monday, every morning, I woke up determined to quit. Nothing I did created enough motivation to sustain me on a bad day, when I drank a cup of coffee, when I hung out with friends.
I did a trial study with MD Anderson where they gave me a newfangled device called a PalmPilot where I recorded all the times I wanted to light up and why. Didn't help me quit. I took oral meds, applied patches, and chewed obscene amounts of nicotine gum. Didn't help me quit. So, what finally worked?
On my journey to quit smoking, I began to acquire little tools that helped a smidge. One year, I took up sewing and coloring to occupy my hands. Over the holidays of another year, I started packing a gallon bag of Smarties lollipops to address my oral fixation. I began to channel hard feelings into terrible poetry. I learned a little self-compassion. No one tool was enough to make me break up with my Camels, but the little tools slowly worked together to make me stronger. One day, I quit smoking, just like I had 1,000 times before (no exaggeration), and the next morning, I woke up without the smell of smoke in my hair. The itch to light up was still there, but it gradually ebbed until I didn't feel frantic about it. Until I was a non-smoker.
For many of us, the things we truly struggle to change require multiple tools, time, and learning what we need and how to provide it for ourselves. That kind of sucks because the idea of waking up on the first day of a new year, harnessing your motivation, and suddenly achieving xyz is far sexier.
My hope for each of us in 2025 is that we stop expecting ourselves to live the Nike pitch. When your goal is to create a new routine, but you're dealing with pain, loneliness, anxiety, or limited time (or a fun combo!), "just do it" will not cut it. It just leads to feeling like a failure, which you aren't. I'm not.
Take the time this year to learn yourself. What do you need that you can start giving yourself, even just a little? Instead of the ideal goal, what are smaller bits of the goal you can work on when you're struggling? How can you give yourself pockets of fun so your life isn't dominated by the grind?
As always, I hope that I'm a tiny resource in the tools you're collecting in 2025. But most of all, I hope this year brings you greater joy, compassion, and love for your sweet self.
Your friend, the former two-pack-a-day chain smoker,
Sarah
Comments