Cockroaches scampered up the bed and scurried across my Greenwich Village apartment floor. I knew I was hallucinating. The empty liter of Bacardi rum glared at me next to barren packets of coke.

I was 26, sitting cross-legged like a child on my queen-sized bed. It was 6:00 a.m. and I hadn’t slept. It was 1988. A frigid March wind blew in from my windows facing Minetta Lane. Every nerve roared for more cocaine.

I watched with terror as a tarantula writhed on top of my dresser. I closed my eyes, hoping it would disappear. Tarantulas don’t live in New York but when I opened my eyes, the hairy black thing was still there.

My lap was littered with confetti-like shreds of eight-by-ten glossies. My painting portfolio. How could I have done that to the only thing I was proud of? I’d painstakingly assembled each page of the spiral book, with photos tucked safely under plastic sleeves in the hopes of finding a better job than waitressing. On one of the ripped pieces, I’d pressed down so hard with a pen that it left indents on the image. Hendrix lyrics: I don’t live today.

My mind scrabbled at the events leading to this last bender. The day before, my roommate Frederic had confronted me in the apartment. His long elegant fingers dug into my upper arms so hard it hurt. An angry vein popped out on his forehead and he shook me like a ragdoll. With tears streaming down his face he said, “If you don’t stop killing yourself, I’m leaving.”

In his eyes I could see the reflection of what I’d become. Disgusting, pathetic. Shame and self-loathing buckled my knees.

Frederic was the only person that mattered. Boyfriends came and went like subway riders. If any got too close, they’d see who I was. Or I’d decide a man’s hands were too hairy or he chewed too loudly. I’d break up with the bewildered fellow and return to my plague of loneliness. Then I’d fixate on a new crush and brood when he barely noticed me.

Happy couples on the street were a mystery. I wanted to run up and say, “How do you do that? What’s wrong with me?”

But Frederic, he was my best friend, like a loyal older brother who’d adopted me.

Our railroad apartment placed his room at the opposite end. Now, as I sat on my bed with jaw clamped in a coked-out grip and eyes bulging, I begged the universe not to let him wake up and see me like this. I’d sworn to stop after he threatened to move out. I had to because life would be unlivable without him. He was the only reason I didn’t jump out a window.

I remembered stopping off at Jimmy Day’s bar on West 4th Street for just one drink. The rest of the night was a blank.

My ashtray overflowed onto the nightstand, reflecting another broken promise to Frederic. Ever since he’d quit, he hated when I smoked. Gone were the days when we’d drink vodka together and play Scrabble for hours, chain smoking and laughing. He’d quit the cigs, cocaine, and vodka.

I emptied the ashtray into my leopard-pattern tin wastebasket. Suddenly, billowing puffs of smoke and high flames shot out of it. I closed my eyes and rubbed them hard. Slowly, I opened them again. Still roaring flames. I got up from the bed and put my palms on the sides of the tin to feel for heat. It was cold. Relieved there was no fire, I was terrified there was no sanity either.

I heard the long-ago voice of my cousin Angela, “You’re so lucky you can handle the drugs, Dor. But if you ever have a problem I’m the one to call.”

I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Ang?”

“Dor?”

After bursting into tears I slurred, “Uncle Carl had the right idea. I’m gonna get a gun and shoot myself.”

“Wait,” Angela said. “Do you have any more alcohol or cocaine?”

I had only the specs of coke that lined the empty packets and a few airplane-size bottles of Absolut stashed in my underwear drawer.

“Finish everything,” Ang said.

That was a first. People never told me to drink more.

“I’ll be there soon,” she said and hung up.

Her brother Brad called.

“Hey Sweetiepie.” It was soothing to hear his voice. “I reserved a bed for you in Florida.”

“Ooh, Florida?” I said, “Is there a pool?”

I heard the front door slam and realized I’d awakened Frederic. My throat went dry but I kept doing what I was told, scraping the last snortable flakes and downing the vodka minis.

Ang arrived at the apartment and yelled “Hey Dor!” After a bear hug she scanned the closet, grabbed a knapsack, and began to pack.

While she yanked t-shirts out of my dresser drawer I moaned with agony, “I’m out of cigarettes.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Everything is fine.”

Being exhausted and stoned made me pliable and obedient.

Angela carried my backpack while I navigated the four flights down to the lobby, gripping the banister to keep from wobbling. When we got to her double-parked car on Macdougal, she helped me into the passenger side and buckled me in. Sure I was going to puke, I unbuckled.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

The thought of eating made me gag. I managed a slurry “no.”

“We have to eat something,” she said. “It’s a long trip to Florida and when did you last eat?”

Before I could answer or stop her, she hopped over to the shake shop across the street and came back with two vanilla shakes. I got down about half of it before I bolted from the front seat and barfed on the pavement. She came around and helped me back into the car.

We headed off to JFK airport. As soon as Ang started to drive, I passed out. I have no memory of the airport or boarding the plane. I came out of the blackout while Ang was checking me into the rehab. There was a pink-skinned lady at a desk with a dopey soccer-mom hairdo who told me to sign paperwork. Then she led me down the hall to a room. Before she closed the door, I asked her to get Angela but the woman said she’d left. My tired bones collapsed on the cot’s thin mattress and I zonked out on the flat pillow till morning.

When I awoke, I tried to piece things together. Only isolated snippets. Frozen snapshots of laughing with a bartender, making out with somebody. I looked around the sparse room and wanted to go home. I got out of the bed and walked to the door but found it locked. There were no lights on. I peeked through the Plexiglas window in the door and could see a woman at a desk. I rapped hard on the window. She smiled and came over to me.

“Where am I?” I said.

“You’re in the detox room at the Hazelden Center in West Palm Beach.”

Her voice sounded like it was coming through a cloud of cotton. I could hardly decipher what she was saying, much less comprehend it.

“What am I doing here?”

She didn’t seem surprised by my question and patiently explained I’d come the day before and my cousin had checked me in, then left, and I’d be staying with them for the next 31 days.

I told her I had to go home and needed to leave right away. I demanded she find my purse. She retrieved it from a locker and handed it to me. I looked for the sliding Bayer aspirin container with my emergency line of coke and mini straw. I couldn’t find it and became frantic. She looked at me kindly and explained they’d searched my purse and disposed of the drugs they found.

Irate, I yelled, “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, dear,” she said, “we do that for all of our patients. You’re here because you’ve agreed to stop taking drugs and you signed the intake permission form.”

I demanded to leave.

“Okay,” she said.

To my horror, I found only two dollars and loose change in my wallet. I was a long way from home with no access to money. Dizzy, I asked the woman if I could lie down again.

“Of course you can, dear. That’s a good idea.”

She helped me back into the creaky cot and I stayed for 31 days.

Written for The Fix

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Austin Eubanks was one of the survivors from 1999’s horrific mass shooting at Columbine High School. Tragically, his best friend Corey DePooter was murdered by the gunman.  After Eubanks was severely traumatized and vulnerable, doctors began prescribing him painkillers. I know from experience, opioids are only effective for relieving short-term physical pain. They are extremely addicting and have side-effects. Long-term use can be disastrous.

Eubanks Kicked Drugs

After the shooting, Eubanks developed an opiate addiction. But at the time of our interview, he’d fought the battle of quitting drugs. Eubanks excitedly told me about his treatment and how he’d learned to live clean and sober. This is after he’d almost lost everything due to his addiction taking him to the brink.

Dealing With Survivor’s Guilt

During our interview he confided, “I could literally get whatever I wanted. Telling them I’d been shot at Columbine and lost my best friend was like getting an open prescription book from every doctor. I’d been filled with grief and survivor’s guilt. But I finally found lasting recovery.”

It has been more than two decades since this article was published. However, today, when I saw David Hoggs was trending on twitter, it brought me back to my interview with another gun violence survivor who weathered his pain by turning into an activist.

RIP Austin Eubanks (Oct 8, 1981 – May 18, 2019 ).

Those of us from Sandy Hook, Parkland, Uvalde, & Highland Park have a vision of living in a nation with no mass shootings. We thank @SpeakerPelosi @LeaderHoyer @WhipClyburn @RepCicilline for leading the effort to pass the assault weapons ban in the House of Representatives today. pic.twitter.com/1NraEelcIT

— Newtown Action Alliance (@NewtownAction) July 29, 2022

Seventeen years ago, 17-year-old Austin Eubanks was terrorized during the Columbine High School massacre. It was on April 20, 1999 and Eubanks was in the library with his best friend Corey DePooter when they heard a bomb go off. It was chaos and Eubanks ran to hide under a desk. He was shot in the arm and knee, but his deepest wounds were emotional. Austin saw his best friend murdered in a barrage of bullets.

“My injuries were not to the point of needing an opiate pain medication,” Eubanks told The Fix in an exclusive interview. “But I was immediately given a 30-day supply. Within three months I became addicted.” From then on, he said, “I used substances every day, day in and day out.”

After the shooting, his parents took him to see a therapist who said Austin was too shut down to process his horrific trauma. But the reason no one could reach him was because he was overmedicated.

“I learned to manipulate doctors,” Eubanks said. “I could literally get whatever I wanted. Telling them I’d been shot at Columbine and lost my best friend was like [getting] an open prescription book from any doctor.”

Austin never went back to school at Columbine and his parents hired a tutor. He graduated in 2000 and attended the Columbine ceremonies without setting foot back in the school. He went into advertising and married in his early 20s. He and his wife had a son, but Eubanks’ substance abuse escalated. His first attempt to get sober was in 2006. “I went to a 30-day inpatient program,” he said, “but within hours of leaving, I went right back to the same regimen—abusing pain pills and Adderall.” 

Right before Columbine, young Austin had been misdiagnosed with ADD. 

“I didn’t have ADD,” said Eubanks. “I just liked being outdoors and playing golf better than being in school. At that time, if anybody was truant at school they said, ‘Oh, they must be ADD. Let’s put them on a stimulant.’ That was why I got Adderall. I liked it because I could abuse opiate pain medication to the level that most people would be nodding out. With Adderall, I could function. Basically, I was doing oral speedballs. It was like using methamphetamine and heroin.”

His second try at living clean came in 2008. His son was three and he was separated from his wife. “That’s when I started to have an intrinsic motivation to change. I went to treatment, stayed 90 days, and achieved eight months of sobriety.”

He and his wife reunited and decided to have a second child. Another boy was born. 

“This is one of the examples that I use when I give presentations about learning every way that doesn’t work. First, I did the normal addict path. I achieved abstinence for a period of time, and built up enough false confidence to where I said, ‘I can drink, because alcohol was never a problem for me.’ I went back to drinking. After a few weeks, drinking led back to smoking weed. Smoking weed led back to Xanax, which led back to Oxycontin, and then I was right back into the same routine.”

In 2011, he was approaching 30 and estranged from his wife and kids. “My sobriety date is April 2, 2011. I woke up in a jail cell and had absolutely no idea how I got there.” 

The last thing he remembered was heading to see the Colorado Rockies baseball team on opening day. He’d been using Oxycontin and drinking, and had passed out in a restaurant. Police arrived and arrested him for probation violation. Due to his addiction, Eubanks spent years in and out of the court system for various offenses, including car theft and writing bad checks.

“I woke up, I opened my eyes in jail, sick. I was in withdrawal from opiates. I was hungover from alcohol. That was the absolute lowest moment of my life. I had ruined the marriage. I had two children I was estranged from. I told myself, ‘If I don’t stop right now, I’m going to die’ and I wasn’t ready to do that. I hit multiple rock bottoms and finally came to understand that I had learned every way that doesn’t work, and I gave up the fight to keep trying to [get sober] on my own. I went into treatment and said, ‘Tell me how to walk, how to talk, what to do and I will do it.’”

After staying mum all these years, Eubanks decided it was finally time to talk about his addiction publicly. “By talking about being at that low place in my life, it’s my attempt at helping others. I’m proof there is a path out and there’s a path out for everybody, regardless of where you are in life and what you’ve lost.”

When he finally found what he calls his “lasting recovery,” it was not in a 12-step program. “I had gone to a 12-step rehab,” said Eubanks. “I used the 12 steps, I worked them, I met with a sponsor. But I left there with two words in my mind: powerlessness and disease. Those are two dangerous words to put in somebody’s mind who is trying to enact behavioral change in their life. I’m not contesting the value of 12 steps and I’m not saying that addiction is not a disease, but I’m saying that you have to approach it from a position of empowerment to create a life for yourself that is so great you can’t imagine going back to using substances. Without that, relapse is much more common.”

He credits a therapeutic community (TC) for his long-term sobriety. “They focused on the behaviors around addiction.” He stayed for seven months. “The TC model helped me understand what was happening in my brain. I’ve always been a thinker. It was really beneficial to be able to say [to myself], ‘These decisions are happening right now in your life because this is how your brain is functioning. This is what’s happening in your prefrontal cortex. This is the reason for your impulsivity. This is what your mid-brain functionality looks like. This is what it’s going to look like at three months of abstinence. This is what it’ll look like at six months of abstinence. At a year of abstinence, if you’re able to achieve that, your brain is going to be fundamentally different than it was in the beginning.’”

Eubanks learned what his triggers were. “I could say, ‘These are impulses I’m having right now, but there’s a date on the calendar where my brain is going to be functioning differently. If I continue to exhibit pro-social behaviors and work toward that goal, I’m going to continue to make progress.’ It helped me as a roadmap.” 

Now sober five years, he works for The Foundry, a TC substance abuse treatment center in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. “We talk to people about brain function,” said Eubanks, “about transactional analysis and what that looks like; what ego states make our decisions and why impulsivity is so strong. And why an addict behaves like a rebellious child. Then we apply all that to 12-step principles, which we have found to be phenomenally beneficial for people.”

Eubanks believes that addiction is on a spectrum, similar to autism and Asperger’s. “That spectrum is dictated by a number of factors and it’s everything from IQ to socioeconomic status to somebody’s social group to the age of the first time they used. A lot of things contribute to a person’s ability to function for a life of abstinence. We have to look at that on a case-by-case basis.”

It’s true, one size does not fit all and individuals require different tools. You might have somebody able to function in an environment where there’s alcohol around and not be susceptible to relapse, while others can never be in an environment like that without the risk of slipping.

The Foundry’s TC model is based on four pillars: medical, clinical, wellness and family. Medical includes tests to determine blood levels and how a patient metabolizes medication. When appropriate, medication is prescribed. Clinical includes counseling, observation, and treatment to help patients cope with behavioral, mental and emotional problems that interfere with their daily lives. Wellness may include yoga, diet and exercise to help build a better life. Family may involve working with families on a weekly basis and then bringing them out for a family intensive, where they go through the curricula for three days with other families.

“The message I want to send to people is to ask for help,” Eubanks said. “I lived in the dark for over a decade in my addiction. I could never see the path out. Ask for help because it’s there. I finally took the road of recovery and never looked back. Through that process, I was able to re-establish a relationship with my children that is fantastic today. They play a big part in my life. I have a functional relationship with my ex-wife, who is now remarried and I’m recently engaged and going to be married again. Life is too good to ever consider going back to where I was.”

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By Olivia Pennell

Can’t I just hibernate through the whole thing?

There are also the pressures and demands to buy presents and attend celebratory parties, meals and events that I don’t want to go to. All-in-all, for someone in recovery-particularly an empath-this can lead to sensory overload. And I am not alone.

Dorri Olds, Freelance Writer and person in long-term recovery says this:

“I don’t like to be known as a Scrooge but bah humbug to the damn holidays. It’s a time filled with family obligations, work-related parties and I’d rather stay home with my dog. I’m recently single after my spouse relapsed on heroin seven months ago so I’m especially sensitive. I have cravings to drink and drug even though I’ve been sober a long time now. Seeing and hearing happy-looking couples clinking glasses at restaurants makes my neck and back tense up.

Walking around Manhattan this time of year gets stressful because of store sales and crowded streets of tourists bumping into me. At parties the smell of liquor wafts up my nose and pulls me towards it. I often leave parties quickly because of that and because small talk tends to make me feel lonelier. Sometimes it feels so awkward to leave early. I never know whether to try to quietly slip out or go find the host to say goodbye when I know I’ll get the big question, “Why are you leaving so soon?” Then I don’t know whether to tell the truth or lie about having to be somewhere.”

Read more…

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Hep C Hadn’t Made Me Sick Enough?

The post Chasing a Cure for Hepatitis C | The Fix appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

I first heard of addiction horror through Michele Weinstat Miller. I wrote about her first two books, “The Thirteenth Step: Zombie Recovery” and “Widow-In-Law,” for The Fix—the largest addiction and recovery website. She introduced me to author Mark Matthews who also writes in the genre of addiction horror. I interviewed him for my latest article “Halloween Special: Tales of Addiction.” his new anthology, Lullabies for Suffering: Tales of Addiction Horror.

Mark Matthews spent years fighting the insatiable monster that screams for more. He says that he still dreams about the electricity of cocaine, the soothing caress of heroin, the heaven in a bottle of Stoli vodka. But the party for him ended long ago. By age 23, Matthews was a wreck. He had alcoholic hepatitis of the liver, swollen pancreas, and a bleeding stomach. 

The Fix article begins with my favorite Matthews quote:

Mark Matthews spent years fighting the insatiable monster that screams for more. He says that he still dreams about the electricity of cocaine, the soothing caress of heroin, the heaven in a bottle of Stoli vodka. But the party for him ended long ago. By age 23, Matthews was a wreck. He had alcoholic hepatitis of the liver, swollen pancreas, and a bleeding stomach. 

After several failed detoxes, Matthews still didn’t wanna go to rehab, no, no, no. But at last he hit bottom and crawled into residential treatment. Getting sober was excruciating, yet rewarding. Equipped with his new recovery tools, he learned to manage life without killing himself. He returned to college and earned a Masters in Counseling and a BA in English.

Click here for interviews with Mark Matthews and Caroline Kepnes:
Halloween Special: Tales of Addiction Horror

Matthews put me in touch with: Caroline Kepnes, whose story, “Monsters” is an exquisite contribution to Lullabies for Suffering. You may already know her name. She is the bestselling author of YOU, which became the binge-worthy Netflix series. Horror master Stephen King tweeted about YOU, calling it “Hypnotic and scary. A little Ira Levin, a little Patricia Highsmith, and plenty of serious snark.”

The four additional contributors to Lullabies for Suffering are: Gabino Iglesias, Kealan Patrick Burke, John FD Taff and Mercedes M. Yardley.

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Marnell is an American writer based in New York City. She’s a beauty who built her brand on writing about beauty for Lucky, xoJane, Vice, SELF, Nylon, and Glamour. She’s been labeled a “socialite” and “enfant terrible” based on her years of struggle with addiction. Her memoir held me rapt but made me so mad at addiction. How it robs us of dignity, common sense, self-esteem. I’m rooting for the author. She wrote an honest and deeply disturbing book about what can happen when one is lost in a world of drugs and enabled at every turn.
Her Twitter bio reads, “WRITER / EDITOR / PREDATOR / DOWNTOWN DISASTER.” And, yes, it’s in solid caps. I had been eager to hear about Marnell’s debut memoir with the inspired title, How to Murder Your Life. Marnell and I met up in Greenwich Village. When she walked in, I was surprised. She didn’t look as I’d expected. Every photo I had Googled showed her, now 34, as a Barbie-beautiful blonde in heavy make-up. The woman I met was brunette, childlike and vulnerable.

An Original Voice

“I had more issues than Vogue,” Marnell wrote in her book and described herself as “a weepy, wobbly, hallucination-prone insomniac” and a “tweaky self-mutilator.” Her brains, she wrote, were “so scrambled you could’ve ordered them for brunch at Sarabeth’s.”

Rooting for Her

“It’s Like Cooking”

Her thoughts on how the book will be received were, “I’m not saying everyone gets it. I feel like with a book—I mean it’s like cooking. I don’t feel immodest saying it’s, I mean, if you taste food that you’ve cooked and you know it’s good then it’s good to you. It’s not like everyone’s taste, know what I mean? I feel like it’s good to me and I worked so hard on it.”
Selling film rights is already in the works. And you should check out the Marnell-inspired fictionalized character—fashion blogger Jade Winslow—on TV Land’s Sex and the City-ish series Younger.

Available Now

How to Murder Your Life is what every addict memoir should be: adventure-packed, shocking, darkly humorous, and gut-wrenching—the only thing missing is sobriety. The book will be published January 31. You’re likely to read it in one fast sitting.

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This article is the result of that Q & A. If you find it helpful, please share. Addicts and alcoholics often find the holiday season extremely difficult and many relapse.

Answers to Commonly Asked Questions about Addiction written for The Fix

The post Non-Addicts Had Questions About Addiction. Here Are Answers appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

“There’s something to be said for pulling yourself out of the grind for a period of time and concentrating on recalibrating the system,” said Jon Hamm.

Actor Jon Hamm, 45, is best known for his eight years on AMC’s hit show Mad Men, during which Hamm starred as the deeply flawed ad executive Don Draper, a charming alcoholic and womanizer in a successful ad agency in the 1960s.

Hamm recently gave a candid interview to Mr. Porter’s Journal, during which he talked about his 30-day stay in an alcohol treatment facility. “It has all these connotations, but it’s just an extended period of talking about yourself,” said Hamm. “People go for all sorts of reasons, not all of which are chemically related. But there’s something to be said for pulling yourself out of the grind for a period of time and concentrating on recalibrating the system. And it works. It’s great.”

Hamm’s parents had divorced when he was two, and he lived with his mother until she lost her battle with cancer when he was 10 years old. After that, Hamm went to live with his father, who he spoke fondly of. “I was always fascinated by my dad because he could talk to anyone,” he said. “He was a great listener and he knew a little bit about a lot of things. I aspired to be like that.”

But tragically, his father died when the actor was only 20. He was suffering terribly, so one of his half-sisters convinced him to go into therapy.

He told the Journal, “After I’d lost my dad, I had this horrible paralyzing inertia—and no one in my family was capable of dealing with it. So what do you do? Go and see a professional. I preach it from the mountaintops.”

The actor is sensitive to the fact that not everyone is as fortunate as he’s been, and said about the high cost of therapy, “I know it’s a luxury and it’s not something everyone can afford. But if you can, do it. It’s like a mental gym.”

As for many stars before him, life in the public eye proved difficult. “It is not easy having immediate and huge-scale fame thrust upon you,” he said. “I’m a pretty shy person. I like talking to people one-on-one, but I do not like people taking pictures of me with 400mm lenses across the street.”

Society’s hunger for celebrity pics seemed to irk him. “It’s mystifying to me why we give that any time in our culture,” he said.

The actor refrained from discussing the end of his long-term relationship with actor and director Jennifer Westfeldt. The two never married but were committed to each other for 18 years.

About their split Hamm said, “It’s very personal and specific and I think people tend to draw their own conclusions about that anyway.”

Hamm is now promoting his upcoming film, Keeping Up with the Joneses, which opens Oct. 21.

See more articles by Dorri Olds for The Fix

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Showtime’s Ray Donovan is my favorite show. Brilliant writing, brilliant cast including Steven Bauer.

The magazine also quoted an unnamed source, who said, “He loves working on Ray Donovan and wants everyone to know he’s back on the straight and narrow … His mom, son Alexander and girlfriend, Lyda Loudon, have been there for him. He’s serious about staying sober.”

The actor is probably best known for his role as the drug dealer Manny Ribera in Brian De Palma’s movie, Scarface. He also played Mexican drug cartel boss, Don Eladio, in Breaking Bad.

Bauer has lived through quite a few upheavals in life. His first marriage was to actress Melanie Griffith in the ’80s. The couple parted ways in 1989. His next three marriages also ended in divorce.

Griffith and Bauer have remained friends. Radar Online reported last week that Griffith has been helping Bauer with his addiction, fearing that if he “didn’t get help fast, he was going to die,” said an anonymous source.

They added, “Steven has type 2 diabetes and pancreas problems. He was still doing a lot of drugs, mostly cocaine, which he’d been doing since at least the early ’80s!” Apparently his addiction was affecting his work on Ray Donovan and Showtime producers warned him “to straighten up or he’d be off the show.”

In a 1990 article in People, Griffith spoke about her marriage to Bauer and their use of cocaine. “We were wild but it was more me than him,” she said. “He was doing it too, but he didn’t have a problem with it. He tried to get me not to do drugs.”

Bauer said about using coke, “I was carelessly casual about it. It was as natural as the ingestion of liquor. But it hurt me in more than a few ways. I behaved irresponsibly when I should have been professional.”

SEE ALSO:

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These evil little things have haunted me most of my life, ever since that first sweet drag of nicotine when I was 14 I’ve had an on-off love affair with the cancer sticks. Quitting is something that I’ve done intermittently, I’m not entirely sure that I have ever truly quit for any great length of time, sure I’ve fooled myself into thinking that I am no longer a smoker, because a post-sex cigarette is very different to actually being a smoker, right? Wrong, that post-sex cigarette soon joins the post-food cigarette, the just-woken-up cigarette and before you know it the ‘ah-it’s-3pm’ cigarette and you’re back on the smoking wagon. I’ve decided that having my growth stunted, my fingers yellowed and clearly visible crow’s feet actually does bother me so this time is for real and here’s how I’m going about it.

E-Cigarette

I thought this would be a decent option to start with, all of the ‘benefits’ that come with smoking just without the 10,000 harmful chemicals that cigarettes pump around my already frail body. This worked out pretty well and I seamlessly made the shift from real cigarettes to e-cigarettes. A word of warning, there are countless e-cigarettes on the market and many of them taste foul, don’t last long or have absolutely no similarities with a real cigarette, do a little research online before you buy or you may end up wasting a lot of money like I did.

Food Replacements

Soon the time came to ditch the e-cig, whilst they do say that nicotine isn’t really harmful, just addictive as hell, I wasn’t convinced that my replacement option of e-cigarettes were doing me any favors, I was living with that thing in my mouth. I knew from past experiences that when one stops smoking, the amount you eat goes through the roof, I’m no supermodel so I simply couldn’t run the risk of gaining too much weight, it was like a trade off between lung cancer and diabetes, I had to search for an alternative. I decided on a crunchy, healthy snack to get me through the day, to ward off the cravings and to prevent the inevitable 10kg that I would be gaining, I can honestly say that it’s worked very well. Carrots, celery and red pepper are my snack of choice, if I’m feeling a little crazy then I’ll throw some nuts in too and every time I crave a cigarette, I just tuck in to my snacks, The sheer amount that I’m eating is a little worrying and I could’ve sworn that I peed an orangey-carrot color the other day but hey, it’s better than cancer right!

Phone Apps

There are lots of phone apps on the market that will help you stop smoking, you still need to be disciplined but the apps will give you gentle reminders why you’re doing it, display pictures of dead fetuses to discourage pregnant smokers and regular images of horrific lungs will be shown to discourage the rest of us, they actually work pretty well. I decided to download all of the apps available, maybe I was trying to replace my nicotine addiction with an addiction to quitting, anyway the point is that these apps really keep me on track with my quit plan, most allow you to put in how many you smoked per day, how much you spent and how long you’d smoked for and they track how much money you’ve saved and how much your health has improved since quitting. After weaning myself off the smokes with e-cigs and then using these apps, combined with my salad based craving stopper, I have so far completed just over 3 months without a cigarette. It’s not really getting much easier but I know that if I keep going that it will, or at least it had better!

The post How I Am Trying to Kick My Smoking Habit by Boris Dzhingarov appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.