What's Your Addiction?

I'm in a growing minority. Usually, I'd be proud to say that - I like to be different- but, in this instance, I have to admit to feeling ashamed that I'm still a smoker. There. I said it. I'm a nicotine junkie.

The first step in curing an addiction is to accept that it exists. I just never made it past the first step. Well, not for long anyway. Pregnancy provided a couple of periods of abstinence. I'd like to say that I developed will power for the sake of my unborn babies, but the truth is, my body made sure I didn't indulge my cravings by making the smell of smoke totally repugnant to me.

I tried reading Allen Carr's 'How to give up smoking the easy way'. I was sold by the adjective in the title and encouraged to keep reading as the opening chapter gave me permission to puff away as I digested the book's message. It promised that by the final chapter, I would be a non-smoker. I never read the final chapter.The stubborn ones amongst us know that it's no use telling us we must/should do/refrain from something. We like to work that out for ourselves and do it in our own time. In my case, it's usually at the last minute.

This approach to time management governs many of my actions..........depositing the children at school with 1 minute to spare (an improvement on last year when they ran to catch the end of their line of peers as it gambolled through the school doors), revising for exams, completing my VAT return, packing, arriving for appointments/flights/dates, getting out of bed........Much of this behaviour can be explained by my loathing of waiting around and fear of boredom. Reading between the lines, perhaps I'm subconsciously smoking my way to an earlier expiration date in order to avoid any potential boredom. I mean, it's all well and good living to the grand old age of 97, as long as you maintain at least a modicum of independence. Be that enough to pedal the coast to coast route, or simply the strength to wheel yourself away from the your fellow nursing home residents (or 'inmates' as my Nana fondly called them), huddled around Dickinson's Real Deal.

So, I've established that boredom is a factor in my unsociable habit. I have a busy mind and sometimes my hands need something to do, just to keep up. The Playstation I bought, to help me through one attempt to kick the habit, succeeded until I'd mastered the controls enough to be able to hold a cigarette and navigate Crash Bandicoot through the Egyptian tombs. I once imposed a daytime smoking ban on myself but, by occupying my fingers on the PC keyboard, I ended up with another, less obviously dangerous addiction. (more about that in a future blog)

I'm old and wise enough to know the things that push my buttons. My sister quit after a beauty therapist commented on how her skin was aging. Vanity isn't a big enough motivator for me. A friend used her fag fund to finance the Mini Cooper she'd set her heart on. My husband has curbed his craving by substituting the ciggies with some pills the doctor prescribed. No nasty side effects either, but I worry that because it seems so easy, I wouldn't feel the same level of achievement at the end of it. I'll live in hope that, one day, (preferably before I'm diagnosed with my fate) I'll find the thing that pushes my STOP SMOKING button. From Mad Cow Patter">