Let me tell you about my moderation story.
I chose to quit smoking cigarettes in December- shortly after my brother died and right at the beginning steps towards me owning a business and changing my life. I was already at a stressed sad time in my life where I needed help mentally, but somehow I was able to quit smoking and get through it.
Then my stress got worse and I began talking about how I wanted a cigarette more and more. February rolled around and my alcoholic father was put in the ICU experiencing severe withdrawal. I cried and said "I wish they sold 2-packs of cigarettes just so I could get my fix. My husband bought me a regular pack and gave me one, saying he would hang on to the rest. It was 1 a day for 2 days, then I began wanting more. He would roll his eyes at me and say okay because he just wanted to help. He had them locked in our safe to prevent me from grabbing more, but he forgot that I knew where the spare key was. When he would leave for more than 30 minutes, I would sneak another. Eventually I said "I don't want this to be you in control of me. Let me finish it off and I won't ask for anymore. I'm done, I promise." But one stressful angry day at work lead me to break that promise and go buy myself another pack.
I felt guilty and ashamed. I smoked 3 a day when I got home from work. Everyone at work at this point was aware that I quit. I had multiple people ask me how it was going. I put on this face that it was going great without mentioning the fact that I was still smoking at home. I didn't want to feel the shame and disappointment from others. My husband told me if I was going to keep smoking, he wasn't going to help by getting them for me. There were days off where I literally walked to the mini mart just to by them to prove I didn't need his help.
Now, its April. 2 days ago when my weekend started, my husband bought me another pack (i had been going through them slower than when I was smoking, which I used to try an justify). Now its 4 days later and I'm halfway through the second pack I asked him to buy. Today is the first day that I experienced a headache from nicotine withdrawal. As soon as I came home and smoked, it was gone. The mini garbage can in the backyard is getting full with cigarette butts while 4 empty packs rest of the shelf by our back door.
The realization came to me that this was no longer some innocent coping method that I had rationalized in my mind. I was addicted to cigarettes. It's said that smokers quit several times before actually quitting, and I realized this is one of those times for me.
The lying, the rationalizing, the desperation, it was all part of my addiction to cigarettes.
This is in no way physically comparative to true drug users, but this is just a very mild look at the mental side of addiction. Moderation did not work. I am addicted to cigarettes, and my brain tries to find any way to prove that its okay or beneficial, when it not. People cope with their life shit without smoking cigarettes. I'm not a rare case. I'm just like everyone else going through shit, but I deal with it in a unhealthy way.
Its weird when you realize it, but still feel no will to change it because you feel its so helpful.
Just venting. Thank you for reading if you did.
