Six Months to the Rest of My Life

I stood on the cliff overlooking the ocean. The same ocean I had looked at just a few years earlier, thinking to myself, I'm going to live here. And live here I did, with the love of my life Amy, whom I also met a few years earlier one day at the beach.

The wind pummeled me from the sea, cold and damp. I was drunk. Again. I smoked a cigarette. The burning smoke enhanced my dark euphoria. I cried and smoked another cigarette. 

This recurring pattern continued for a few months. I had been laid off from my startup tech job and was unemployed. Amy and I did take an amazing trip across Europe shortly after I was laid off, but when the travels were over, the perpetual hangover kicked in. I struggled with my blue genes, my addictions, my destructive past patterns of soul-crushing anxiety laced with depression. I didn't know what to do; this was post the dot-com bubble bursting into a tough job market. I felt like a failure unworthy of love or grace, even with my new found love.

At that time, I hid how much I drank from Amy. She worked nights then and it was too easy to drink more than usual. By the time she got home, I was already asleep. Passed out more likely. But then one day she found out what I was hiding, and the reckoning was upon me.

I come from addiction genes; my birth father was an abusive alcoholic and my mother struggled with chronic pain and painkillers later in life. I didn't start drinking until the very end of high school, but the fact is that I did start. Same with smoking cigarettes. In fact, I smoked cigarettes for 14 years after high school. A pack a day on average for most of those years. 

After the above heavy drinking, I didn't quit drinking, but I didn't drink as much and I didn't hide it anymore. Amy and I both drank in moderation, until the pandemic, where we both upped our intake (like many others at the time). I remember our kids asking us why we drank nearly every night. I'll come back to that one.

In 2002, I quit smoking. Amy and I were to be married in 2003, but she didn't want to marry a smoker. I didn't blame her. But it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. 

Nicotine has been proven to be as addictive as cocaine and heroin and may even be more addictive. 70 percent of smokers report wanting to quit, but many wait until they develop a significant tobacco-related disease such as heart disease, cancer or stroke.

The first two years were rough, but thankfully I did it. My official quit date was September 22, 2002, the same date when our oldest Beatrice was born years later. 

Which brings me back to drinking. Post-pandemic, Amy decided there would be no more drinking for her; she wanted to be healthier; it was no longer "fun". It'll be four years for her in October. She didn't have a problem with me still drinking and I kept it low to moderate (except for work trips unfortunately). Our kids asked why I still drank. While I reminded them it was usually only 2-3 times per week, Bryce would say to me, "You have a beer every night, Dad."

Then came the death of my dear friend Robby. Paralyzed since his swimming accident in high school, he suffered from chronic pain and a body that degenerated over the decades. And like my mother, he struggled with painkillers.

After that, I really began to reflect on my relationship with drinking. Alcohol is detrimental and there's plenty of data now showing how toxic it is to the body, no matter the amount ingested. Without planning exactly when, I stopped on March 22 this year, six months to the anniversary date of my quitting smoking back in 2002.

When you're genetically dispositioned to addiction, ultimately the only choice you have is to not do the thing you might become highly addicted to. That was something I learned from attending Nicotine Anonymous (same program as AA) before I quit for good. Because if you choose to do it, you're right back in the heart of the destructive dark abyss. Overdramatic? Not really. Those who know, know. And mercy me, quitting smoking was a lot harder than quitting drinking, that's for sure. 

I'm glad I quit drinking. I'm glad my wife did four years before me. We also know our own kids may drink someday and that's their choice (but as far as we know they haven't yet). However, I know firsthand that addiction and purposeful sedation prevented me from overcoming fear, anxiety, and scarcity, instead of embracing love and the potential abundance of a brighter life. And better health. You can truly never be happy if you don’t let go of the things that make you sad. And in the end, alcohol always made me sad. 

So today, my life-affirming sentence is six months to the rest of my life. Blessings.

That Bastard of a Monkey

"It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive
If you don't have it you're on the other side
I'm not an addict, maybe that's a lie..."

–K's Choice, Not an Addict

She knew when I cheated. The first two years were the hardest, and covering up the few cheats were exercises in futility; the stench never leaves the clothes after even just one cigarette, and the residue left in the mouth and throat is unmistakable, no matter the mouth wash or breath mints. I convinced myself that it was okay, that each one was the last cheat. It was such a difficult monkey on my back.

However, after the first two years of quitting in 2002, it became literally a breath of fresh air. I didn't miss it after that. It had been nearly 20 years since I first smoked those nasty clove cigarettes that eventually led to my pack a day cigarette habit. Even with smoking decreasing everywhere, I'm surprised / not surprised when I still see smokers on the streets, in parks, on the beaches, etc. And now vaping is more prevalent that ever, which is nothing more than another way of getting the nicotine smack monkey on your back. And this is something we've talked to our girls about since vaping is has been marketed to younger school-age kids.

My quit date is still a very important date to me, even with the cheats. It's also our oldest daughter's birthday. And my wife Amy wouldn't marry me unless I quit. She had smoked a little herself when we first met, but had long since quit.

If you've been a smoker, then you know how tough it is to quit. You also know how easy it is to start again. I had quit multiple times prior to the official quit, failing each and every time. Nicotine is such a highly addictive drug, and even though it doesn't give you the same "high" as other addictive drugs, the vicious reward cycle is one of the strongest.

According to recent research:

Nicotine stimulates the release of dopamine in neurons that connect the nucleus accumbens with the prefrontal cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, and other brain regions; this dopamine signal “teaches” the brain to repeat the behavior of taking the drug. 

The amount of dopamine released with any given puff of a cigarette is not that great compared to other drugs, but the fact that the activity is repeated so often, and in conjunction with so many other activities, ties nicotine’s rewards strongly to many behaviors that we perform on a daily basis, enhancing the pleasure and the motivation that we get from them. 

Smokers’ brains have learned to smoke, and just like unlearning to ride a bike, it is incredibly hard to unlearn that simple, mildly rewarding behavior of lighting up a cigarette.

Columbia University researchers Denise B. Kandel and Eric R. Kandel have identified a molecular mechanism underlying nicotine’s gateway effect: Nicotine encourages expression in the reward circuit of FOSB, a gene that underlies the learning processes described earlier. Thus, nicotine makes it easier for other drugs to teach users’ brains to repeat their use.

Smoking seems to both enhance and prolong the pleasure of other activities. The reinforcement-enhancing effect applies also when obtaining nicotine from e-cigarettes.

Not to mention that cigarettes cause more than 480,000 premature deaths in the United States each year, which is about 1,300 deaths every single day. There's enough research out there today accessible to all of us that underscores the dangers of smoking.

I empathize with addicts of all kinds. I do. Unfortunately it's in my genes. I also know the health benefits of quelling an addiction, especially one like smoking cigarettes. Because you don't choose to smoke once you've started, the only choice you have is not to smoke. Addiction is selfish that way. (Learned that from Nicotine Anonymous.)

Recently I was on my way to one of my Natural Bridges State Park beach workouts, and a woman had just finished smoking a cigarette. I didn't see her smoke it, but as she walked in front of me to cross the street, I could smell it. The visceral memories of that smell reminded me all the times I smelled that way. That bastard of a monkey on my back dug its rusted nails into my skin and I literally flinched. Not because I missed it; I'm way past that now. Because I worry it could still kill me someday, just like it continues to kill 1,300 people per day.

God bless you, Brothers and Sisters. The only choice is not to.