My Dirty Little Secret Diary

By Adelaide Thomas

 

In 2008, I asked myself once again; does my schedule really need an addiction? What would it be like to eliminate the chains of nicotine addiction completely and stop all the excuses? How much time would I gain to put more effort into enjoying life? These are the questions I asked myself back in 2008 when I set myself free and changed my life intentionally when I stopped smoking. After thirty-five years of lies and excuses, I broke the addiction chains. Freedom contained more complete magic than I ever could have imagined. Magnificent moments of exercising without gasping for air. Hugging without worrying about the scent of smoke emulating from my body. Having more time to make a difference in this world and helping others transform from the habitual to the magical. This is the diary of my journey to freedom and all the excuses I used on the way….

 

 

 

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adelaide Thomas
• Release date: Nov 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223321897

Adelaide Thomas

I strive to spread the message about the benefits of a smoke-free life and eliminating excuses to smoke, now that I'm no longer addicted.

Book preview

FORWARD

IN 2008 I ASKED MYSELF once again; does my schedule really need an addiction? What would it be like to completely eliminate the chains of nicotine addiction and stop all the excuses? How much time would I gain to put more effort into enjoying life? These are the questions I asked myself back in 2008 when I set myself free and changed my life intentionally when I stopped smoking. After thirty-five years of lies and excuses, I broke the addiction chains. Freedom contained more complete magic than I ever could have imagined. Magnificent moments of exercising without gasping for air. Hugging without worrying about the scent of smoke emulating from my body. Having more time to make a difference in this world and helping others transform from the habitual to the magical. This is the diary of my journey to freedom and all the excuses I used on the way....

CHAPTERS OF EXCUSES

SMOKING:

AND SO IT BEGINS

The Secret

End of the sidewalk

Perseverance

Daily Strength

Wisdom from the West

Observations

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Blinded

Teamwork

Thoughts and Advice

Dirty little secret ritual

Fears

Staying free

The Journey continues

FAMILY:

OUT OF PLACE-OUT OF time

The way he was

Forlorned

The rescuer

Overlooked

A time to worry

The fifth tunnel

Sorrowfully celebrating

Ripping through

Detached

Letter to dad

Playing the game

Siblings

Acceptance

Sleeping with the enemy

The lady in the pool

Fear

A family derailed

Holding onto hope

Escaping the madness

Colic chaos

Nature vs. Nurture

Nightmare Lane

The blame game

Black and white

Second guessing

Triggers

Emptiness

Blinded

Looks are deceiving

Funeral follies and fakeness

Sorting things out

Tug of war

EMPTY NEST:

TORTURE

Forlorned

The distance factor

The rescue and serve curse

Outside of my dirty little secret

Exiting

Adding fuel to the fire

Fear

Sorrowfully celebrating

Stepping out of reality

August-September rush 2016

Everyday observations

MEDICAL:

MARCH, 1986

The death of Gullibility

Something’s not right

Many tests of freedom

PANDEMIC:

COVID-19

When this is over

THE END

WHERE ARE YOU?

I go to you

RANDOM THOUGHTS

SMOKING

AND SO IT BEGINS

BACK THEN, IT WAS THE monster who petrified me. It kidnapped me in my pre-teen years and did not free me until I was fifty years old. Its daily dose of brown, stained teeth, shallow breathing, shriveling skin, wrinkled, sunken lips worsened as the years went on. In 2008, I escaped and freed myself from my evil captor. The nicodemon monster no longer scares me, but exercises fleeting moments when he tries to lure me back. Let him be angry and sulk in sorrow. How will he cope? He turns more victims into his web of deceit but this human is no longer afraid of you...

THE LAST THING ANYONE wants to hear is you got a lot of baggage!, but most of us do. Attempting to move on, the first thing I unpack out of my life is all the years I wasted on smoking. Next comes the side effects of growing up in the most bizarre family ever. Last but not least, at the very bottom is the most rewarding prize ever. This one stays in my bag of life. It is the reason that keeps me going every day into the next; three beautiful children and two fabulous grandsons to make it all worth it. I own it. I will not unpack it...

OTHER THAN WHEN I GAVE birth to my three children and my grandsons entering this world, the absolute happiest and most exhilarating day of my life was when I finally became free. Free from the chains of addiction. Free from being enslaved and locked into the mercy of its calling. Free from planning every single day around its demands. Freedom is priceless.

This was the day I should have quit. This was just one of the many days and countless tries for many years. Rising up inside me every time, the I can do it echoed from my better self. It was only to be defeated once again by my junkie other half begging me to give in and enjoy the addiction. And so the game continued until my greater self screamed enough!! Enough coughing and choking on my phlegm. Enough yellowing, browning teeth. Enough shriveling, caving in and lined lips, covering up black sooted lungs next to a dying heart. Enough excuses. I listened to you for way too many years and finally fought back.

I used to dream about being free from the chains of addiction. Whenever I closed my eyes and allowed myself to sleep, I was a free woman. I no longer craved the nasty cancer sticks that burned my throat and lungs daily. When I was sleeping and not faced with the stress of the wounded world, I totally appreciated 8 hours of euphoric escape. I could not smoke while sleeping, or at the very least, I had not learned how to. Sleep became a reflection of the life I yearned until one day the ultimate challenge began with applying my sleeping world to my waking world. Lo-and-behold, I did not have to escape to dream of freedom anymore. I could live it while awake and now I breathe deep and let freedom ring....

BEWARE OF SHINY THINGS! They jump out at you. They tempt you continuously into their lure of deception, offering a solution to your problems. As you open the box, the shiny gold cover convinces you you’ve come a long way baby, to get where you want to go. You pull off the shiny gold cover as your mouth salivates in anticipation of what you used to think of feeling good. You light and inhale as your shiny evil friend has you convinced you need more. More to escape. More to accept. More to survive. After all, you got your own cigarette now, baby, you’ve come a long, long way.

1996

MY BOOK BEGAN WITH a diary to express my feelings during quitting and escalated into a past, present and future story about a never-ending journey. During this year and many others, I attempted to quit many times with failure always to follow. Many years later, I now know that back then I did not have the correct attitude to quit successfully. It was not until twelve years later when I decided I would do whatever it took to quit no matter what, and that was the game changer.

LAST NIGHT MY NINE-year-old came into the bathroom and said she had something to tell me: You lose 14 minutes of life every time you smoke a cigarette. It’s OK, you tried your best. I thought about this all night. She may know that I am smoking again. I’ve tried to keep this from my kids for so long. I am so embarrassed by it. Will they ever understand why I went back to smoking? Do they understand how complex life is? How much shit hits the fan as they say? Do they remember the night my sister-in-law accused Rick of molesting her son? How could a lie turn into truth in some people’s mind? What's it like to live with a miserable man?—-Now I know these thoughts were all part of an addict’s mind-endless web of excuses to smoke...

THE SECRET

MY SECRET STARTED OUT of shame and embarrassment. Raised in a family of grand announcements, they might as well shout victories and milestones over a bullhorn and display them on billboards for all to see and hear. Never the negative-always the positive; she did it for good this time just like the last five times! I would receive my theatrical overload from my dad;

positive accolades from my mom, and barely a reaction from my husband. Smooth sailing all the way, as if I was resisting a piece of cake. Because of this naïve mindset, it led me to believe amid all obstacles I won the battle. I announced my victorious win over the nicodemon, and the news spread like wildfire. Just like my sister Debbie’s constant announcements of losing weight, the entire plan backfired on us. Turning back would disappoint and devastate and amount to loss of control, weakness, and failure. Hence began the coverup, and it continued for many years....

When I was an active addict, I thought like an addict; distorted. Of course, I did not come to this realization until I was free for a while. It was not overnight but a gradual understanding. Sometimes the old addict in me comes back and the tug-of-war repeats itself. But it is not as frequent now, and its power is weakening. I successfully weaned myself from the anti-depressant after the doctor so easily renewed it repeatedly. I am not sure what lies ahead, but none of us have the answer to that..

Certain actions bring back memories of my dirty little secret and how I used to rely on it for every issue in my life as I escaped into a nasty world of deception. I buried and disguised all my trials, tribulations, and issues in life and raising children in an addiction instead of confronting them. Into a room with locked doors I went, with many excuses readily available, as well as cans and cans of room spray stocked up to hide the smell. I am left with nothing-no means of solving problems and children so far away. I was the one who should have been there for them, and it is me who has to live with the guilt. They had that on me and I did nothing about it. I just played the game and buried myself deeper and deeper....

THINKING BACK TO ALL those years of spraying air fresheners to disguise the smell makes me wonder if the damage is done. In my case, I am living proof of memory loss from all those chemicals. My memory has been damaged from long-term use of room spray, along with ten surgeries involving anesthesia. At first I could not figure it out, and then I understood while spraying a can of Lysol at work. Studies show long-term use and inhalation of these chemicals can cause damage.

How did I not realize this? The dollar store spray, along with the dollar store body sprays, took a toll on me big time. The chain of addiction had me in its grip and it blinded me to everything. All the toxicity ended up in my lungs and right to the brain like a drug we can’t get enough of. It’s called nicotine, and it is mixed with many other toxins into what I call cancer sticks. Sucking those toxins in would have been deadly enough, but to make matters worse, I added many other chemicals and poisons through cheap spray and perfume. 

Funny how one little question creates such deep thought and reflection. All this to investigate how it all happened. I have no solid answer and have a feeling the answer is somewhere out there, but I know for sure that smoking did not solve any of my problems and only lead to more problems. Maybe I thought it was my only solution to get attention in this period of my life.

Looking back on the notes of old piano music, I realize how hard I was and still am on myself. Judging by my notes, I never seem to give myself a break. Maybe this explains why I went down the smoking road to begin with. Perhaps I realized I could never be good enough to meet my own standards, so instead I threw in the towel and tried to find an answer in smoking. On the way, I got lost and sucked into an addiction I did not know how to get out of. And this is the way it goes with us perfectionists. We can never give enough to meet our own expectations, so we give up and succumb to something we contort to be the solution. And before we know it, we need more and more to satisfy our addiction, but it is never enough. The demon controls the nicotine and eventually the nicodemon controlled my life.

BY THE TIME I FINISHED my diary, it was pretty obvious some of my viewpoints had changed. Since the diary spans over the last fourteen years, this was bound to happen. I have sealed my clothes away in one of those air-tight bags which were so popular years ago. I dare not open the bag since that reminder would be too traumatic. Gray, puffy and thick down material for those brutal northeast winters. I partially broke the zipper due to overuse after completing my dirty habit while wearing it. Maybe I should open the bag as a reminder to never visit those dark days of disguise again. Filth and stench surrounds the browning film around the edges of the coat. This is the coat of an addict who would weather any storm to get her fix. Now it is proudly retired and sealed forever....

THE NUMBER IS 7-25-08, which means absolutely nothing to anyone but me. This is the date I saved my life; my date of freedom from the chains of addiction. Nowadays, the date comes and goes without me remembering it. This is a good thing because I think it means I am totally free. Once my quit buddy and my family congratulate me online, it all comes back to me and I secretly give myself a pat on the back. If I could turn back time, my preferred time capsule landing would be Ortley Beach, New Jersey in the summer of 1970. I would stay just long enough to warm my younger self and best bud not to take that first puff. Afterwards, I would fly right out of that teenage wasteland as quickly as possible. I would later realize I was definitely on the highway to the danger zone because once you smoke one, it leads to another and on and on. Before I knew it, I was hopelessly hooked and a faithful supporter of several conniving and deceiving tobacco companies. Nowadays I will never go back since I am finally free and might not be climbing the stairway to heaven anytime soon.

On this very snowy day, I think back to all the sinful hours I spent in the bathroom puffing away through the open window without regard for others. While writing this, my eyes catch the heavy snow as the feelings of helplessness and guilt overcome me. Unable to respond when one of my kids needs me since they live so far away and even if I tried, the runways will soon ice over and bury in snow. Guilt from wasting all those years on my dirty little secret. These are the years I will never get back with my children. Foolishly, I was not considering there would be a day I could no longer protect them and keep them by my side. This instinct is way too strong in me and has many times led me to the thought of relieving this pressure for good by ending it all instead of considering ever lighting up again.

I REMEMBER THE BROWN stained teeth leading me to fear the smile I once gave. As I coughed up the thick phlegm from my throat, I remembered. I remember cowering in fear as I puffed away, hidden from society because of embarrassment and shame. The nicotine build up caused yellow toenails. I remember the day my brother died from smoking-related throat cancer. I remember the day I had enough and broke free from the chains of addiction.

I WOULD SURMISE IT takes a lifetime to free oneself from guilt. Guilt always leads to misery. If you allow it to set in, all the simple pleasures of life rapidly fade away. Often, I seem to organize my thoughts carefully into categories. Battling the overwhelming guilt category consumes me. My first daily battle is the guilt from "my dirty little secret.'' Sneaking around and retreating into an addiction does a lot of damage to self and family. I carry that burden, which I would love to drop and get rid of forever.

2014-END OF THE SIDEWALK

WHENEVER I COME TO visit South Carolina where two of my kids live, I walk across the huge development to an area where the sidewalk ends. Flashbacks of their childhood come upon me, especially since my daughter's getting married next month. Flashbacks of a time I would give anything to bring back and relive.. Where the sidewalk ends by Shel Silverstein was one of her favorite books. Shortly after writing it, the author passed away, but would likely have written many more books if he had lived. My daughter would read his books repeatedly. Funny how memories trigger, in this case, just by walking down a sidewalk that ends. Those were the glory days, but I did not know that when I was in them. Instead, I cowardly escaped into an addiction which I used to solve all my problems, or so I thought. Sometimes nowadays I feel the sidewalk has ended for me. I lost my chance and now the kids live far away doing what they should do; working hard and enjoying life SMOKE FREE. Yet through all the loneliness and regret, I remain determined not to smoke....

Sometimes we are in love with an idea and it doesn’t pan out the way we imagined. It happens in marriages, work and vocations. Addiction misconceptions haunt me in every aspect of my life. I never seem to learn and my hopes continue to shatter. This dilemma is happening to my youngest daughter now, as she discovers becoming an actress isn’t as easy as she thought, but she is hard to read. This false hope could easily trigger me back to smoking and God forbid my daughter into darkness again, but I fight and fight to win one day at a time. Every day, I am overcome with a feeling of dread. Even though I stay very busy, the dreaded feeling lives on. Will this feeling gradually diminish as I hopefully get used to the kids living so far away? I will have to adapt-sink or swim-but will I make it through the rocky path or will the road kill me from the wrath of its anxiety? The anxious fretting inhibits any progress I have made. People say Let it go but they don’t tell me how. My so-called solution was just a lie. All those years I lost lighting up, believing it was solving my problems. As a result, I never faced my loneliness and certainly never prepared for Armageddon when it all hit hardest the day the kids left. Yet through it all I stay free for almost six years now!

When my kids are not happy, neither am I. It is because of a maternal chain reaction which I have no control over. My kids do not want me to feel their pain, yet they will not understand the worries of parents until they have children. When they are home, I am fulfilled and completed as a person. They bring back reminders of living a lie which surfaced while visiting New Jersey yesterday for my friend’s daughter’s wedding. My friend Tina has always been smoke free, so her skin, hair and body have not suffered damage from the side effects of cigarette addiction. Her daughter and mine were friends in New Jersey and that was back when I would allow no one to get too close to me. If anyone got too close, my secret could be revealed either through smell or discovery. One of the most pathetic revelations was during one of the many visits to the New Jersey shore. On the beach, my daughter Emily needed to look in my purse for something. I may have been in the ocean or back at the house. Up to then, my daughter had believed me when I told her I had quit smoking. She then found out it was all a lie. Before her very eyes, she lost her trust in me as she discovered the cigarettes wrapped in a paper towel and hidden under everything else. This was one of my many sad attempts to hide a lie. It still controlled me and she could do nothing but break out in tears as her friend sat by her side in disbelief. These are some nightmares that walked down the aisle with my friend’s daughter. Lies I can not forgive myself for....

After last night’s dream, the demented maternal side of me secretly wishes they were still home, lying around creating smiles and happiness for me. A feeling of becoming unglued convinces me the nicotine was keeping something at bay from exploding within me. Afterwards, the medication Chantix kept me even more elated. I can’t even imagine how down I would feel these days if I was not working out. I can not blame this on anything, but believe from the very beginning my genes genetically predisposed me to smoking. As far as the environment goes, the husband is not doing anything wrong-technically he is just living the only way he knows how. Not exciting, but hardworking, faithful and family oriented. Disabled, yes, but I know it could be a lot worse.

As I sink into empty nest sadness that I can not change yet forced to adjust to, there is one thing I will not be reaching for to puff on for a so-called solution. It is so very challenging to find a certain time and limit for daily worrying. It hits me constantly, even though I know it is not over anything I have control of. No longer do I solve it with smoking, yet with the kids no longer here, it is so much harder to deal with. We were sitting with one lady at my friend’s birthday dinner last night. I had never met her before, and she was friendly at first. Somehow, we got into a conversation about smoking. It was then her friend who also recently freed herself asked me why I hid my smoking, and I could only reply how embarrassed and ashamed I was to admit to anyone my dirty habit. The lady next to me agreed and announced she was in the same boat and very close to trying to quit. I encouraged her to try Chantix, and I noticed as the night went on she became more withdrawn. It was not until later I realized what was going on and perhaps why she was so eager to leave and get home; it had been hours since her last fix. I knew from experience without a fix she would become agitated and eager to get to an area she could smoke in. The designated areas to smoke these days are fewer and further between. I remember the back of my throat itching followed by mouth watering and hands shaking all in anticipation of the nicotine fix. After all, one craving satisfied leads to another and another, and the vicious cycle continues. For five years after freedom, I could not go into a convenient store for fear of breaking down and buying a pack, as the awful memories associated with buying cigarettes came back to haunt me.

In my darkest hours, you are the reason I hung on. I always knew it was coming, but I never accepted it. Gloomy hours consume me despite having enough to do; enough money, enough husbandry, enough friends, yet loneliness overcomes me. My need to nurture remains, yet I have no one to depend on me anymore. Gone are the days they needed me and relied on me. Even if I was only listening to problems and offering solutions, I felt needed. I have heard the lectures it is time to think of yourself. Answer: never learned how-always thinking of others. Time to spend more time with your husband Answer: he never asks me to do anything and I refuse to be the first one anymore after all these years. Some days are easier than others to release the guilt and agony from years of smoking. My next step may be to write a detailed letter to each of my kids explaining my fears with them being so far away and releasing the guilt I would feel if something happened and I could not get there right away. This is my worst nightmare. When that phone buzzes, it is not just a sound to me. It is a sign my kids need me, which is slowly being stripped away-it is a loss I am not ready for. I need to be needed the way I used to be needed. God forbid something happens and I can not get to them to save them fast enough. I will not allow this fear to lead me back to smoking. My kids would not have wanted that. It is clear they want me to stay free. At some point, my distorted addict junkie mind equated smoking with solving problems. As I puffed away, I knew in the back of my mind I would regret this someday.....

Approaching five years free on July 25th, I had to think about the date before I wrote it down, which is a good thing. Seconds turn to minutes turn to hours, weeks and months which once went by so incredibly slowly and now that same time flies so fast. I no longer crave and have been discovering a whole new world of energy and freedom. Compared to what it was before, my energy level is unbelievable. I associate energy with happiness, so as a result I believe I have never been happier with myself. Before I freed myself from the chains of addiction, I plodded along in guilt and shame. It caught me in a vicious cycle of a dirty secret, and I did not know how to get out. Now I have nothing to hide. I can live the rest of my life at 100% instead of 50%. No more secrets or obstacles. Ready to fearlessly face all the upcoming changes and challenges I can tackle with no crutches and finally be happy with myself.

SIX YEARS INTO FREEDOM, and so far I have stayed strong in my resolve. I believe the worst of the process is over. Even though I am tested constantly with pelvic issues, kids living way too far away and an unreactive husband, I remain free. My heart skips a beat when an earthquake or hurricane hits, but I no longer reach for or think of the lighting up process. There are good days and bad days yet somehow I stay free, probably because I know it could be a lot worse with my type of personality. I could easily spend my time constantly worrying about things out of my control, which most likely is what led me to smoking. Now I need to work on releasing the past and freeing myself from what is over and done with. I am working on releasing my demons and trying to make peace with myself and my confusing teenage years. Yesterday it suddenly dawned on me how on earth my mom put up with my dad’s big boobs and porn drawings? She hid herself behind religion and let it mask her problems she may have had with the pornography my dad was drawing when I was a teen.

ON A RECENT TRIP WE took, I ended up observing a situation unfolding during the flight. The female passenger goes on talking endlessly to a perfect stranger next to her. At first, her seatmate shared a few things, then asked one question, and that was all it took to get her going. On and on she went-her whole life story plus more. The more part got me thinking about how thankful I am that I don’t smoke anymore and have moved on from the self torture I put up with when I could not satisfy my addiction. Flying is one of these dreaded moments.

I passed him during my sixth mile of walking through Charleston. As I walk everyday instead of smoking, there he is standing on the very edge of his yard looking odd as he tries to conceal something he is holding in his hand. One more step and he would be on the street. My instinct told me he was not holding a gun because a few feet away from him, I noticed a lawnmower, which he may have recently used. Whenever a car went by, it was clear he was trying to hide his dirty little secret. As I power walked by him, I finally saw the cloud of smoke that surrounded him. He needed his fix and had no other choice but to satisfy it. The chains of addiction were still controlling him. He had not yet freed himself, but yearned to. He just didn’t know how.. Been there-done that. I am no longer condemned to the edge, frowned upon by society and controlled by secrets.

PERSEVERANCE

AS I CONTINUE MY JOURNEY through freedom, the challenges become more and more overwhelming. The biggest challenge by far is the empty nest situation. How does one cope with a major part of them ripped out and no longer protected? Smoking was a vice that I so foolishly believed was a friend who helped solve problems. Now that I have somewhat gotten used to life without this addiction, I realize I never had the chance to allow myself to live life without nicotine except for my very early pre-teen years. This was before dad turned into a beast and started drawing porn. He grew his hair and beard without regard for hygienic upkeep. Weight loss followed, and then intense yoga sessions and dramatic shifts in diet. Cod liver oil mixed with bone meal replaced everyday typical lunches. It was in this time period when slowly but surely the pornographic artwork began and continued for many, many years.

Ashley has had three brushes with death and I am not sure how much more I can take. There are no words to describe how it feels when they get hurt and live far away. Knife in the soul comes to mind. First brush was at birth. Second two brushes with death were via car accidents, one of which miraculously concluded in her walking away with barely a scratch. During these situations, fleeting thoughts of sucking in and blowing out a death stick attacked me and how I use it for so-called solving problems.

My previous solution for managing situations involved seclusion in my private area of the house, which may have contributed to my continued smoking. Being alone and wallowing in my sorrows while slowly killing myself in body and mind. Blaming myself all the way. 

AS THEY WERE DISAPPEARING one by one, I felt myself sinking deeper into my lagoon of self pity. Twenty-nine years of serving them and only them were washing away, and it hit me like a tidal wave. Who would I serve? They are part of me, like a river running into the ocean and I am lost at sea. I live for the moment I will visit them again and pray that I never slip back into drowning in the web of addiction. Part of me knows I will survive because of my fortitude and determination, yet most of me have lost what I do the best; mothering. I live and breathe for them and would sacrifice anything and everything to go back in time and serve them like they once needed. Am I an idiot to think they would never grow up and leave the nest? I put all my passions and desires on the back burner and forgot about them. Now I am trying to figure out how to restart and fill every minute of the day. I must prevent the intense longing to get the best of me and allow myself to rise again. I reach for my friends and animals for answers as my husband moves on easily from every life change. Jealousy sets in and I yearn to be like him. I yearn to accept the absolute fact that my three precious angels grew up into successful adults who do not need me like they used to. This is the way it should be, but I continue to fight the side effects of an empty nest. It is ripping out my heart and soul. I will not allow myself to sink down into that deep hole of depression again. Hormones leave me, children leave me, addictions leave me and somehow I plan to fight to the end. Eye of the tiger forever! So off I go to my exercise, animal shelter, students, nursing home, piano music, more exercise... This is my new life-I think......

There will never be an end to my journey. Quitting is a process and I will always be on guard, however recently I am more confident in my abilities. I am a different person now. Smoking was a different lifetime, and it is becoming a distant memory. My self-esteem has always been low and previously I viewed myself as useless and not worthy of anything good. Maybe I know why now after reading a book about eating disorders and realizing every single fact in the book described me. One of the many symptoms is low self-esteem. Adding fuel to the fire is my tumultuous teenage years and early physical development. These were the years I made the mistake of accepting and smoking my first cigarette.

In that period of my life, I thought cigarettes were an outlet to help solve my loneliness and fill the gap. Many times, we don’t see the obvious right in front of us. I am sick of blame and resentment. In my quest to always have a reason for anything that happens, I am coming to terms and accepting the fact that depression runs in my family and somehow I got overdosed with it. Of course, it didn’t show its ugly face until I stopped self-medicating with cigarettes. The first clue was so obvious; I freed myself from a thirty-five-year addiction and should have felt elated and proud. While on the Chantix. I felt euphoric, and joy flowed through every part of my life. Three months later it was time to stop the Chantix and within a few days I dropped to an all-time low. Feeling like I was better off dead, I muddled through everyday activities as I always have been able to do by putting on a grand act and masking emotions that nobody sees through or suspects the misery that is deep down inside. Since then, I had discovered one of the side effects of Chantix was depression; either while taking it and/or when stopping the medication. I remember wallowing in my sorrows. What do you do when nothing remains? Everything you lived for has left....

Consumed with fear and misunderstanding each day, I become more paranoid and am not sure if it is real or imagined. When people look at me, I imagine what they are thinking; is she insane not knowing how good she has it? Why is she so sad? What will she do with no one to serve? Will she make it through part two of her life? What will excite her without her children and cigarettes? How much worse will her husband’s limp get before he can’t walk? When will he ever want to have fun? How long will she feel guilty for her repulsion? Why was she thrown into an empty nest so suddenly?

Another price to pay for the mistake of letting yourself fall to the mercy of the nicodemon; when you finally free yourself, you slip into a pretty deep depression. After all those years of self medicating, how do you know what you can feel? Nicotine leveled the dopamine and followed every single event. Take that away and it is crash time. I was slipping down a deep dark hole, feeling guilty the whole way down because I should have been euphoric that I was free. It doesn’t work that way! Your body and mind need to trudge through many tunnels before coming out the other side. I wanted to see the light at the end of the tunnel and would do anything to stay smoke free. My doctor agreed and prescribed an antidepressant which took the edge