Breaking Through Addiction
Dialoguing a breakthrough during my journey of quitting my smoking addiction.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it.
It’s the same line, over and over again that consumes my entire mind. I’m aware of it, but I can’t seem to shake it.
Do it.
Why not? Just do it.
Awareness is only just one small battle. The war begins as soon as there’s a justification included.
You’ve had a long day. Do it.
You haven’t done this in a while. Just do it.
It felt so good last time right? Do it.
My mind starts buying into the excuses being pushed just to get a hit, a rush from the dopamine. Decisions start beginning to be rationalised for me.
You’ll be fine. Do it.
It won’t be as addictive since you know what it can do. Do it.
You’ve quit before already, you can quit again after this. Do it.
Only a little bit is enough. Just do it.
Suddenly, my body finds itself reacting to the overwhelming barrage of impulses coming through. My head starts spinning. My breaths shorten. My chin becomes dampened from the clamminess of my hands trying to hold myself together. I’m deep in the battle now.
DO. IT.
Emotions really begin to flood in now. I’m agitated, anxious. I’m all over the place but I’m ashamed. I’ve let myself down so many times — could this be happening again?
Deep in my addictive state, this dialogue would not be going down in my head at all. I could have been triggered by anything — a cigarette butt on the ground, an alleyway of smokers present, a major project to deliver at work, the smell of coffee in the morning or the feeling of alcohol present in my body. And most definitely before and after a difficult conversation, even with myself.
It was natural to reach into my deck, whip out a lighter and spark one up — relief and satisfaction in the form of nicotine rushing through me instantly. A moment of content.
Do. It.
I repeat those exact steps again — lining the cigarette tip to my lighter thumb resting on the trigger, ready to pull at any moment. But … I’m hesitant, paralysed by the shame that’s hanging over me, amplified by the impending wave of disappointment in myself looming.
How can something like this give me relief if I’m going to experience emotional volatility every single time? Momentary satisfaction just doesn’t hit the same, especially in a cycle that I’ve become all too familiar with now. I’ve pushed through for a whole day without you — surely, I can do another day again.
There’s only one thing to do.
Let’s keep it going.
