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| Can you see what's possible? |
As a pint-sized, pig-tailed 8-year-old, I'd speak my mind to random strangers smoking in public, whether or not it was appropriate.
Never mind my whole family smoked like chimneys, or that, in those days, everyone smoked, everywhere, and second-hand smoke wasn't a thought.
Then in fifth grade, my Barbie-looking teacher added fuel to my fire when her doctor-husband came to class for a real-time experiment. We tested the effects of smoking with our vice principal; as he smoked a cigarette in class, we watched his blood pressure rise with each inhalation. We filled glass jars with smoke, and angel hair standing in for lung tissue immediately blackened. Preserved lungs drove the point home: healthy and pink vs ravaged by tar-and-nicotine. This affirmed my point.
Goodbye, goody-two-shoes...
If 'goody-two-shoes' is a new expression for you, here's a definition.
So you'd think I'd never consider smoking, right? You'd be wrong...
The summer between 6th and 7th grade, as I graduated from elementary to junior high school, I found a new set of friends. My caregivers were gone; grandparents were recently deceased, my mom worked full time. I had no one to be accountable to, nor anyone to notice what I was up to.
It started simply enough. My girlfriends and I would steal cigarettes from our parents and then practice smoking in my basement or out bedroom windows. At first, I was dizzy and sick. But I was committed to cool, solidly determined to smoke, so each hit of nicotine became easier. Soon, I was a full-blown smoker.
It wasn't long before I wasn't just a casual smoker. I liked to smoke, so I smoked a lot. Parties, drinking... more smoking. Maybe a few stimulants, and a lot of feeling awkward... more smoking.
While always outspoken, as a teen I took that to new levels. I didn't like it if I couldn't smoke, and I lived by 'better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.'
This lasted about 10 years.
The stigma
Directionless and purposeless, I quit college for a boring admin job and then found myself suddenly back home when my roommate had an emotional breakdown. I wasn't happy, but I somehow had the presence of mind to know I needed a 'real' job, different than the crappy 'throwaway' jobs I'd had so far. One thing I knew for sure, I wasn't following family footsteps in any capacity.
As I interviewed, I decided smoking wasn't cool anymore, and by smoking, I was just like my family. So I stopped, even though smoking was still common, and we still weren't talking about second-hand smoke. (An aside: Most of the men I noticed weren't smoking, either.) I saw people taking smoke breaks in front of office buildings; I didn't want to be one of them.
Determination
Two weeks before starting my new job at a travel agency in the heart of downtown Seattle, I smoked my last cigarette. I had a plan; I ate a lot of carrots, skipped the bars for a weekend or two, went for a lot of walks, and took a lot of deep breaths.
I can't say it was easy, but once I decided, I never looked back. Kinda like when I started...
I still drank pretty heavily off and on and did some things I'm not proud of, but I never started smoking again. When I met my current partner, 20-some years ago, he smoked, so I played with fire and took the occasional hit. But I knew I didn't want to be a smoker again. I still had smoking dreams, and I'd wake up in a panic thinking I had to quit again, mad at myself, and then realize it was just a dream.
New awareness
Because I still had plenty of other bad behaviors and habits, I wasn't yet on a wellness path, but giving up cigarettes was a turning point. Suddenly a lot more mattered. And I saw what I was capable of.
At some point, hindsight again being 20/20, I understood my penchant for smoking had less to do with addiction and more to do with my lack of self-confidence. Cigarettes were something I could hide behind.
What I learned?
I could do anything I set my mind to: from getting the job I wanted at the company I wanted to work for, to quitting something studies show is the hardest addiction to kick.
It started with a decision, a lot of determination, and a vision of what's possible. Even though I still struggled with self-worth and continued to trip myself up in other ways, this one action set myself up for ongoing success.
Now, I see I've achieve what I've set my mind to, and I have evidence that supports doing it again.
While I have odds in my favor that some don't, I'm no better or stronger or more capable than anyone else. It's wanting something bad enough, envisioning the possibilities, believing in ourselves just enough to make it happen, and taking that next step.
If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.
Never mind my whole family smoked like chimneys, or that, in those days, everyone smoked, everywhere, and second-hand smoke wasn't a thought.
Then in fifth grade, my Barbie-looking teacher added fuel to my fire when her doctor-husband came to class for a real-time experiment. We tested the effects of smoking with our vice principal; as he smoked a cigarette in class, we watched his blood pressure rise with each inhalation. We filled glass jars with smoke, and angel hair standing in for lung tissue immediately blackened. Preserved lungs drove the point home: healthy and pink vs ravaged by tar-and-nicotine. This affirmed my point.
Goodbye, goody-two-shoes...
If 'goody-two-shoes' is a new expression for you, here's a definition.
The summer between 6th and 7th grade, as I graduated from elementary to junior high school, I found a new set of friends. My caregivers were gone; grandparents were recently deceased, my mom worked full time. I had no one to be accountable to, nor anyone to notice what I was up to.
It started simply enough. My girlfriends and I would steal cigarettes from our parents and then practice smoking in my basement or out bedroom windows. At first, I was dizzy and sick. But I was committed to cool, solidly determined to smoke, so each hit of nicotine became easier. Soon, I was a full-blown smoker.
It wasn't long before I wasn't just a casual smoker. I liked to smoke, so I smoked a lot. Parties, drinking... more smoking. Maybe a few stimulants, and a lot of feeling awkward... more smoking.
While always outspoken, as a teen I took that to new levels. I didn't like it if I couldn't smoke, and I lived by 'better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.'
This lasted about 10 years.
The stigma
Directionless and purposeless, I quit college for a boring admin job and then found myself suddenly back home when my roommate had an emotional breakdown. I wasn't happy, but I somehow had the presence of mind to know I needed a 'real' job, different than the crappy 'throwaway' jobs I'd had so far. One thing I knew for sure, I wasn't following family footsteps in any capacity.
As I interviewed, I decided smoking wasn't cool anymore, and by smoking, I was just like my family. So I stopped, even though smoking was still common, and we still weren't talking about second-hand smoke. (An aside: Most of the men I noticed weren't smoking, either.) I saw people taking smoke breaks in front of office buildings; I didn't want to be one of them.
Determination
Two weeks before starting my new job at a travel agency in the heart of downtown Seattle, I smoked my last cigarette. I had a plan; I ate a lot of carrots, skipped the bars for a weekend or two, went for a lot of walks, and took a lot of deep breaths.
I can't say it was easy, but once I decided, I never looked back. Kinda like when I started...
I still drank pretty heavily off and on and did some things I'm not proud of, but I never started smoking again. When I met my current partner, 20-some years ago, he smoked, so I played with fire and took the occasional hit. But I knew I didn't want to be a smoker again. I still had smoking dreams, and I'd wake up in a panic thinking I had to quit again, mad at myself, and then realize it was just a dream.
New awareness
Because I still had plenty of other bad behaviors and habits, I wasn't yet on a wellness path, but giving up cigarettes was a turning point. Suddenly a lot more mattered. And I saw what I was capable of.
At some point, hindsight again being 20/20, I understood my penchant for smoking had less to do with addiction and more to do with my lack of self-confidence. Cigarettes were something I could hide behind.
What I learned?
I could do anything I set my mind to: from getting the job I wanted at the company I wanted to work for, to quitting something studies show is the hardest addiction to kick.
It started with a decision, a lot of determination, and a vision of what's possible. Even though I still struggled with self-worth and continued to trip myself up in other ways, this one action set myself up for ongoing success.
Now, I see I've achieve what I've set my mind to, and I have evidence that supports doing it again.
While I have odds in my favor that some don't, I'm no better or stronger or more capable than anyone else. It's wanting something bad enough, envisioning the possibilities, believing in ourselves just enough to make it happen, and taking that next step.
If you like this post or this blog resonates with you in any way, please feel free to subscribe (see right column), share it, comment below, or send me a message. I'm also available for one-on-one coaching—you can find me here.
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