Quitting smoking was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I tried most of the conventional methods of quitting and they didn’t work for me. After many years of trying and failing, I finally had a flash of inspiration and it helped me to actually quit smoking. What follows is how I got started, and how I stopped smoking.

My high school had a smoking lounge and that’s where all the cool kids hung out. Nick was a cool kid. I wasn’t.

Nick was such a hunk that I just HAD to find a way to meet him. I didn’t know anybody who knew him. He wasn’t in any of my classes but he did hang out in the smoking lounge. He was cool, he was gorgeous, and he didn’t have a girlfriend. I intended to change that. None of my friends hung out in the smoking lounge. They didn’t smoke. I’d look like a jerk just standing out there unless of course, I had a cigarette…

Cigarettes were great! I got a buzz every time I smoked one and for once in my life, I looked COOL. Maybe I’d even meet some of the other cool kids! I was only using the cigarettes as a prop. I wasn’t hooked on them and I didn’t intend to be. I just wanted to meet The Hunk.

I never did meet any of the cool kids but I did finally meet The Hunk through one of my neighbors (I hadn’t needed the cigarettes after all). Nick, however, was not interested in me and he disappeared a couple months later in the wild blue yonder of graduation. The only thing I had accomplished in the smoking lounge was to start smoking. The cigarettes didn’t disappear. I liked smoking. I liked the freedom of being able to go anywhere I wanted and look COOL, leaning up against a wall with a cigarette.

I was seventeen.

By the time I turned nineteen I didn’t want to smoke cigerettes any more. I wanted to quit smoking but I couldn’t. For the next eight years I tried all kinds of ways to quit smoking and never made it past 48 hours. I had it bad!

I tried to quit cold turkey. I tried gradual withdrawal filters. I bought these minty-tasting drops that you put on your tongue that made your mouth taste great and made cigarettes taste awful. I smoked them anyway. Foul tasting as they were with those drops I still had to have that cigarette! They didn’t have the nicotine patch back then so I don’t know if it would have worked for me. Somehow I doubt it.

I was one of those cigarette junkies who’d run out of smokes in the middle of the night and go rummaging through my car, feeling down in the seats looking for one that got away. I’d go through ashtrays pulling out old butts and relighting them. I had it worse than any heroin addict.

By the time I turned twenty seven I was totally fed up. Cigarettes were expensive. Cigarettes were unhealthy. People everywhere were quitting, why couldn’t I? Whereas once almost everyone smoked now it seemed that nobody smoked. Cigarettes weren’t cool anymore.

My boyfriend didn’t smoke. I always felt so guilty when we kissed. He tasted so clean and fresh and I didn’t. I really wanted to quit. He really wanted me to quit. As much as I wanted to start smoking to meet Nick, I wanted to stop smoking to stay with Ryan. It’s really hard for a smoker and a non-smoker to be together.

I wanted to quit for myself, too. I couldn’t forget all the pictures I’d seen of cigarette smoker’s lungs. I didn’t want to die 10 or 20 years ahead of my time. And just think of what I could do with all that extra money!

The plan was simple. I used a daily chart that divided each day into half hours. Every half hour I’d log how many cigarettes I’d smoked in that time. If I didn’t smoke that half hour I’d fill in that block with a bright orange marker. The object was to cut down and keep cutting down until I wasn’t so addicted to nicotine anymore. Then maybe I could stop.

The first couple days I just kept a record of my smoking. I didn’t really try to cut down. I did feel really great when I got so busy I didn’t smoke and could color a square bright orange.

After a couple days I starting trying to go a half hour just so that I could color in a square. Every bright orange square was a huge accomplishment. I’d find myself watching the clock and waiting an extra five or ten minutes for a cigarette just to be able to color in a square.

As the days went by I was able to color in more and more squares. My body was gradually beginning to withdraw from nicotine.

I didn’t put a time limit on myself. That was too much pressure. I figured a half hour at a time was pressure enough. I don’t remember exactly how long it took but I finally got to where I was smoking only three cigarettes a week. THREE cigarettes in a whole WEEK! I was so proud of that!

Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? I mean, why bother to smoke at all if you’re down to only three cigarettes a week, right? Most of the time my body didn’t crave cigarettes anymore. I’d get a twinge here and there but nothing I couldn’t handle. But about three times a week I’d get this major urge. It would hit me BAD. That’s the only time I smoked and I’d only smoke one just to get past those last few big urges.

After a couple of weeks of smoking just three a week, I quit. I finally quit smoking, absolutely and totally. The major urges had faded into twinges and I could handle twinges.

So after 8 years of trying to quit, I made it! I really and truly made it!

When it comes to quitting smoking there’s only one rule: Don’t stop trying to quit. Every stop smoking method does not work for everybody. Some people CAN quit using filters, gum, breath drops, acupuncture, nicotine patches or even cold turkey. We’re all different.

If you try something and it doesn’t work, don’t give up. Wait awhile, let go of that feeling of failure, then try again. YOU are not a failure. That particular method failed for you. So wait awhile and try again. Try something else. Sooner or later something will work. Just don’t ever stop trying!

Believe me, it’s worth the wait!

Tags: cool kids, don't give up, how to quit smoking, how to stop smoking, never give up, never stop trying, quit smoking, quit smoking story, quitting smoking, smoker's lounge, smoker's lungs, smoking lounge, stop smoking, try again, what's in a cigarette

Category: Pay It Forward

We were never bothered by flies in the house. Our dog Gypsy Rose could catch a fly in midair. Catching bugs, especially flying bugs, was one of her favorite pastimes. She could also catch wasps.

The first time our dog tried to catch a wasp I stopped her, afraid that she would get stung. Hovering like an overprotective mother I would intervene. Wasps in the house were an uncommon occurrence so I didn’t expect to encounter this again right away.

The next day brought more wasps. So did the day after and many days to follow. The wasps kept coming. Apparently they had some secret door into the house.

Gypsy Rose was mesmerized by these loud, buzzing creatures. Flies had always been a favorite treat and the wasps were bigger and noisier. She yearned for the hunt and I was growing tired of being the bad guy who kept spoiling her joy so one day I decided to just let her be. Gypsy Rose would get stung and she’d learn not to mess with wasps again. That would be the end of it.

To my utter disbelief she caught the wasp in midflight, pulling her lips back from her teeth and snapping the wasp in half. Several quick snaps of her teeth chopped the wasp to pieces before it could extend the stinger and the pieces disappeared down her throat as happy little dog treats. I was in awe. Surely this was a fluke.

The days passed and our dog caught wasp after wasp, thoroughly enjoying this tasty new morsel. I developed a morbid fascination watching her accomplish this daring deed. If she got stung it did not faze her because for all the rest of her years, Gypsy Rose happily caught wasps and ate them. Gypsy Rose was our bug catcher.

Dakota on the other hand preferred much bigger game. Dakota was an Australian Cattle Dog / Husky mix. These were two dog breeds from some of the wildest, untamed territories known to man. Cattle Dogs were bred to herd cattle out on the open range, running for hours on end to keep the cattle in line, risking their lives when a frisky cow would try to kick them away. Siberian Huskies were bred for the wilds of Alaska. Neither was a dainty breed.

While Dakota would happily tackle a bug on the floor and eat it, she could not master the art of catching flies in midair as Gypsy Rose had done. She preferred the chase of a squirrel or chipmunk, pursuits that fed her need to run fast and hard in the great outdoors.

More often than not she ignored my calls to come in. The Call of the Wild was an aphrodisiac full of irresistable temptations. Dakota was a house dog who loved the outdoors. The treats I offered to lure her back inside paled in comparison to the wonders that Mother Nature offered.

One particular morning I let her out for her final morning potty, the potty that would hold her the rest of the day while we were at work. I let her have a few extra minutes outdoors while I prepared my lunch. When I called for Dakota to come back in I was answered with silence. Something had captured her attention again. I called and called and several minutes passed before she finally came trotting up the stairs carrying something in her mouth. To my great surprise Dakota laid a four inch round turtle on the floor at my feet, her face alit with pure joy. He was tucked tight into his shell and appeared to be unharmed.

“Look at the really cool thing I found in the woods!” her eyes seemed to say. “Can I have it please? Can I keep it?” Joy and innocence shined in her eyes as she shared her greatest moment with me.

Being more focused on getting to work I didn’t stop to think how I should handle this important moment in our dog’s life. I picked up the turtle and gently told her no, she couldn’t have the turtle, then I took it outdoors and let it go free and off to work I went.

The event haunted me. I’d missed a golden opportunity. I got halfway up the street when I had to turn around. All I could think about was how I should have taken pictures of Dakota and the turtle before taking it away. I should have taken a picture of the turtle up next to something to demonstrate its size. I should have taken a photo of Dakota’s happy face, of her holding the turtle, of the turtle on the ground at her feet. I should have preserved this special moment to remember it always. This was an important moment for her, sharing this big find. I had to go back. I had to take pictures.

I turned the car around and went back home with the intention of bringing the turtle back in for a couple of quick photos then setting it loose again. A five minute delay, that’s all I needed. But there was one giant dilemma: the turtle was gone. I searched high and low for that turtle, all thru the woods and across the yard, circling wider and wider. Surely he couldn’t have disappeared so quickly! How far could a turtle have possibly have gotten? I searched and searched to no avail. The turtle was nowhere to be found.

All the way to work I tormented myself over an additional mistake I’d made in reacting to Dakota with the turtle. I realized that I’d handled the whole affair totally wrong. Dakota had brought that turtle to me having no idea I’d take it away from her. She’d never attempt to bring another in. From that moment forward she simply wouldn’t come when I called her. I’d worked so hard in trying to train her to come in from outside on command and now I’d sent the message loud and clear that to keep her tasty dog treat she’d have to stay outdoors and ignore my calls. We’d been struggling with this stage of her dog training.

What should I have done? I’m no dog expert but I believe I should have given her something in trade. The moment I took the turtle away I should have given her a desireable dog treat in its place. That’s how we taught her what she could chew in the house. We traded legal dog chews for illegal objects.

This tactic had worked well and Dakota had learned not to chew anything except what we gave her to chew. Rather than focusing totally on the negative, the NO, we were swapping it with a positive. We didn’t just punish her by taking something away and leaving her frustrated, we offered a replacement to entice her to make a good decision.

Had I traded for the turtle I would have sent the message that the turtle was not okay but that I would give her something enjoyable in its place. Instead I sent the message that she’d better go find a hidey hole if she wanted to keep her turtles. If mama calls you’d better run and hide!

Tags: ausky, australian cattle dog, bee, bug catcher, call of the wild, dog, dog catches flies, dog catches wasps, dog catching a fly, dog catching a wasp, dog chews, dog doesn't come, dog doesn't come when called, dog eating a fly, dog eating a wasp, dog eats a turtle, dog eats flies, dog eats wasps, dog got stung, dog prefers outdoors, dog stung, dog training, dog training tips, dog treats, teaching a dog not to chew, turtle, wasp

Category: Dog Tails of Adventure