Jamie's Quitting Smoking Story

Quitting Smoking

Trying unhealthy things when you’re young is sort of a right of passage. Sometimes we are lucky enough to wise up just in the nick of time, but sometimes we take it too far, to a scary and lonely place that is hard to come back from. I learned how to take care of myself at a pretty young age but unfortunately, I wasn’t concerned with the strong habit of smoking cigarettes that I was developing when I started at 17 years old. It started as a way to socialize during my breaks at the Friendly’s where I was waiting tables. I’d bum cigarettes from other smokers. One day, I bought a pack. I felt like I should stop mooching and then I could return the favor on smoke breaks. But having access to them at all times was the biggest mistake. I continued to buy them and went on to smoke a pack of cigarettes every day for 14 years. It didn’t matter if I was sick, I would get off the couch or out of bed and sit outside and smoke a cigarette whenever I felt like smoking. It didn’t matter if I was competing in CrossFit, I would find a place to smoke outside where no one could see me to calm my nerves. I would leave my husband by himself at any restaurant table to go out for a cigarette. At some point, trying not to smoke became pretty brutal. Some of the things that I experienced when I tried to quit included a constant state of slight panic, an inability to concentrate or be present, non-stop cravings, and unreasonable irritation to name a few. Things like going to work and interacting with people become exhausting tasks. Every waking moment consisted of fighting a constant battle between slipping into negativity and then talking myself back into a positive mindset which was mentally exhausting. I could flip back and forth five or six times in just a few minutes. It always amazed me to meet people who had successfully quit. I would interrogate them. How did you do it? Do you still have cravings? How long do the cravings last? Did you gain weight?

Habit, crutch, coping mechanism, addiction, whatever you want to call it, I knew that I was slowly killing myself. I was so ashamed and embarrassed but no matter what I tried; I just couldn’t stop. People judge you when you smoke. They can’t help it. No matter how compassionate someone is, if they haven’t experienced this prison, they can’t help but believe on some level that you smoke because you don’t care about your health. You try to explain how trapped you are and that you don’t know how to stop, but it all comes out sounding like excuses. Even when you tell them how hard you have tried for years; it just sounds like another excuse. They might have seen someone effortlessly walk away from smoking and think, well if someone else can do it, you should be able to stop right now. I am here to tell you, it doesn’t work like that. Not even a little bit. Scare tactics, like looking at a lung covered in tar, were the worst of all. I would watch the commercials from the CDC’s Tips from Former Smokers Campaign. I will never forget Terrie Hall. She had a stoma and was shown in the commercial getting ready in the morning. She put in her false teeth, put on her wig, and wrapped her scarf around her stoma (the thing that she has in her throat). She walks you through her morning routine so nonchalant but at the end of the commercial her date of birth and date of death are displayed. I have cried more than once watching this commercial. I also went right outside for a cigarette immediately after because of how anxious the thought of ending up like Terrie made me feel. It sounds so dumb, I know. But it was basically saying “Don’t smoke, this will happen to you” and then there was no emphasis on “Here is how you can stop”.

My Grandfather was one of the smartest, most hardworking, most driven and strong-willed men I had ever known. I remember him trying to quit for most of my childhood and young adult life. I watched him and my Grandmother take their last morphine coated breath on hospice in the same exact living room about nine years apart. His death was caused by lung cancer and hers, congestive heart failure due to smoking. My Aunt also died on hospice in her own living room the same week as my grandmother. She quit smoking years ago when my grandfather passed away. Her cancer had spread just about everywhere. She didn’t want morphine because it made her feel loopy. The terror in her widely opened eyes during her last few extremely labored gasps for air was the hardest and most horrifying thing I have ever watched. Her son had to leave the room in her last living moments. She was aware that she was dying, and no one could help her. My reaction to these types of stressful situations has always been to head outside and light up. It was disgusting but that was what I did to avoid a full-blown panic attack. My family hated it and I hated myself for it. It was like the people that I loved had died in vain and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

I had tried quitting for 14 of the 14 years that I smoked. You name it, I tried it, probably more than once. I tried Cold turkey, Wellbutrin, Chantix, self-help books (I even called the number in the back of the books to talk to quitting coaches), the patch, the inhaler, the gum, the lozenges, the DE quitline, quit tea, ear pressure point magnets, working out, I could go on and on and explain why which one was terrible and by the 3rd day I was a miserable shell of a non-functional person. I never stopped trying though. I would estimate that I made an attempt to quit every six months or so. Every time I tried something, I was so hopeful and positive and ready to end this death sentence. But every time I gave it everything I had and crumbled a little more each time I failed. My confidence to finally quit got lower with each failure and it seemed like smoking was the only way to survive until it killed me, killed me in a painful and young kind of way.

My second to last attempt was Chantix for the second time, my last-ditch effort AGAIN. I was driving north on I-95 toward Wilmington Delaware. I had finished smoking a cigarette and still felt the craving. Chantix blocks nicotine receptors so that even when you smoke your receptors cannot take in nicotine or satisfy your craving. It sounds promising but there are side effects. Nausea is the first one of many. The nausea started on the very first day and I knew I was going to need to find a way to deal with that. So, I took anti-nausea medicine every day, because this time it had to work. But when I finished that cigarette in my car on I-95 and still felt withdrawal symptoms, I snapped. I was so tired of this game. This game of throwing everything at quitting and feeling debilitated and unable to function as a result. It really was like someone pressed pause and I was frozen. So here I am in my car on I-95 North thinking, “I can’t do this to myself anymore”. So here were my options (or what I thought they were probably because of Chantix combined with my own personal chemical makeup), throw in the towel and continue to smoke, ultimately die a horribly painful death suffocating or developing cancer that rapidly spreads to every organ, tissue, and bone just like my family members. Or I could just end it now. Drive into the oncoming southbound traffic or the guardrail. Fuck it, the torture would be over. No sooner did the thought cross my mind did I snap to reality and start balling tears. I called my husband and told him what happened. I was terrified thinking I couldn’t even trust myself, which was crazy because I had relied solely on myself for a very long time. This was the lowest I had ever felt. I couldn’t put myself through the rollercoaster ride of hyping myself up and then hating myself for screwing it all up again. I threw out the Chantix because suicidal thoughts are unacceptable, and I turned to stone. I lost all optimism for successfully quitting. Until one day.

I had just finished a CrossFit workout; I can’t remember what it was, but it was tough. At this point, I had been CrossFitting for about four years. A woman/friend that had done the same workout told me I did a great job. I told her that I wondered how well I would have done if I wasn’t a smoker. Being a clinical health coach, she said, “I may be able to help you with that”. I quickly replied “nah, you definitely can’t, I’ve tried it all”, and I walked away. To this day I don’t know why the hell I it did, but I turned around and said to her, “Well, how would you help me, like what would you do?”. She gave me her number and the rest is history. She worked with me for an entire year. We talked each week, setting attainable goals, then reflected on how it went and modified when necessary. I slowly decreased smoking and broke habit loops that start with a cue to smoke like driving, having a glass of wine or a coffee, and talking on the phone. I learned new hobbies to replace smoking. Everyone got an arm knitted scarf for Christmas that year. If this woman didn’t save my life, she drastically prolonged it. She broke me out of prison. There are no words to express the relief I experienced the first day I didn’t smoke or feel panicked. There are also no words to express the gratitude that I have for this amazing woman. How do you really, truly, and properly thank the person who saved your life?

I haven’t smoked a cigarette since May 4th, 2018. What I didn’t realize was that each of my failed quit attempts taught me what worked and what didn’t work. After 14 years of persistence, I managed to luckily stumble upon the right way for me to quit. I never really quit quitting even though I felt like I did at times. The point is, I guess, never give up. Consistently never quit quitting and consistently do things that make you healthier and happier. It may seem like you are letting people down along your journey, which hurts. You aren’t. You are just on a JOURNEY and it’s no one else’s but yours. Not knowing where the journey is taking you is scary but if there are people in your life who care about your journey, you won’t ever be truly alone in it. Although he really hated my smoking habit and wanted me to quit, my husband was probably the only person who knew I had to do it my way and supported me every single step of the way. Even when I had gone three days without a cigarette and drove to the store like a maniac and bought a pack and smoked two in a row. Even when I cried hysterically about not being able to quit and being scared to death about dying from it. Even when I left him at the dinner table on our date nights.

There are people from my CrossFit gym, Equity Fitness, who may have saved my life. Some may know they did, and some may not know. I wouldn’t be where I am today without the people from this place, the people who own it, the people who consistently supported me and cared about me every day. They showed me how to walk through the doors every day and get better, even when it seemed too hard. Now I am studying to become a clinical health coach. I figure the only thing I can do is pay it forward. 

- Jamie O’Hara