Quitting Smoking One Last Time (hit me baby one more time)

March 20, 2026

Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt… literally. Two times ago, when I wanted to quit on Feb 1st, I ended up going to a one person performance called “A Brief History of Smoking Cigarettes”, written and performed by Deanna Jones. I had come by the tickets in a serendipitous fashion, so it seemed meant to be. Yes. This was surely a sign that I would be successful in quitting for realz this time.

My boyfriend and I attended the show, which was AMAZING by the way, and it really spoke to my recent thought process about MY own personal history with smoking. It’s not just a physical addiction, it is a part of me. There has never been a moment of my existence, from zygote to furious fifty, that has not been addicted to cigarettes, either physically, emotionally, or both at the same time. My mom smoked during her pregnancies, as was the style of the time (sorry-not-sorry, Grandpa Simpson creeps into my speech and writing all the time). I do not hold any grudges about this. She started smoking when she was twelve, and quit at age 72. She is a fucking rock star.

Prior to seeing the production of “A Brief History of Smoking Cigarettes” I had been mulling all of this over, composing blog posts in my mind but not writing them down, and thinking about why it has been so hard for me to quit this time. One of my earliest, most vivid memories, is of climbing up on the couch to cuddle between my parents while they both smoked on opposite ends of the loveseat. I was feeling panicky and stressed, and had figured out that if I sat close to them while they smoked I instantly relaxed, felt safe and sound and quiet inside. Second hand nicotine addiction from birth. Again, I hold NO grudges. This was during the late seventies. Everyone smoked, including the doctor in the delivery room while I was being born. Now that we know better, we do better.

This physical addiction combined with the feeling of emotional safety is part of why even when I have quit for many years at a time, I continued to crave. Constantly. I could be running a 10K and run past a smoker and BAM – CRAVING. I have never NOT wanted to smoke, even when I was running a yoga centre with my then-husband some 30 years ago.

Anyways. Today is quit day. The last quit day, the first day of spring, a symbology of sorts. I will never have to quit again because I will never smoke a cigarette again. I am so committed to this that I quit drinking and smoking weed or using cannabis gummies on March 1st, because every time I am not sober the cravings are not manageable. I feel fantastic. And awful.

Check out Deanna Jones and her one woman show, whether or not you have ever been a smoker. It’s fantastic. Here is the front and back page of the program. And yes, I did buy a T-Shirt after the show.

March 18, 2026

BIG SIGH. Again. I have set a quit date of Friday, March 20th. I am hoping that this will be the last time that I ever have to quit. For the past three and a half years, I have been a smoker again. I hadn’t had a cigarette in about sixteen years, but while camping in September 2022 I thought that I could just enjoy one around the campfire and that would be it. To quote a fierce woman from Star Trek Picard,  “The sheer fucking hubris.” SIGH. To think that I was so confident that I could control an addiction that has been part of me for my whole damn life. Interrobang me hard, baby.

Wrong! How many times must I learn the lesson that it is not possible for me to have just one?!

I need to have a plan for when I get into massive panic and craving mode. Writing is the most consistent and powerful tool that I have for processing life, so the idea for this ongoing post is that I will sit down and write my way through my cravings.  They are never just physical cravings, usually they occur in moments where I am spinning out emotionally and I need ten minutes removed from the chaos in order to sit quietly and dissociate.

When I am not smoking, I rarely take the time to go outside, which is my preferred place to be; to just breathe and look at the trees and sky.  Yesterday when I was outside having a cigarette, I felt a profound sense of sadness because when I quit I will not be spending as much time enjoying my backyard. Get a grip, fool! There is no reason that you can not take ten minutes to sit outside and just be, as often as you like!

There are so many ridiculous narratives running through my mind about what it means to be a smoker. This is one way in which my constant overthinking might actually kill me. It keeps me smoking, and after supporting my mom through lung cancer this past nine months I have a new respect for life and physical health. Not all lung cancer is a result of smoking, but the shame of sitting outside the hospital having a cigarette while my mom is inside having cancer scans is too heavy to bear.

The hypocrisy I feel while begging my twenty one year old adult child to NEVER smoke cigarettes or vape nicotine as I smoke in front of her is too interrobangy to bear.

So, on Friday I will wake up and not have a cigarette with my morning coffee. I will rely on nicotine gum to manage the physical cravings, and I will rely on this blog to manage the emotional rollercoaster of life, which has been my downfall each and every time I have tried to quit since lighting that first cigarette in a moment of hubristic weakness three and a half years ago. 

Wish me luck, I will be screaming inside my heart indefinitely.