Once a smoker, always Smoker? A History First Hand In My Partner Is A Current Smoker

I started smoking when I was 11 years old. I had been to boarding school from the age of 6 years, I was comfortably upholstered (ok, I was fat and was known as ‘slug’ my companions) and wanted to fit in with the other kids in my school. I achieved my goal of becoming one of the gang, which also means having to deal with various substances that are smuggled into one of the best private schools in the UK.
This made me and many other popular happy with life in general (this was the early 70s! ).

So, here I am, 39 years later and I’m still smoking (although everything else gone from my life in the late 70s, with long hair and platform shoes). I have tried to give a couple of times . . . but rather half-hearted I have to admit . . . and unfortunately not.

During the past 39 years I have smoked many as 70 per day and only 5 per day. 70 per day, as any smoker you need to know, when things were stressful, business relationships or were hard and money was tight (how do they keep buying cigarettes, though . . . ? ).

There have been other times when I’ve been in the hospital for example, and have only managed to spend 1 or 2 inches I have hanging dangerously out of windows bathroom, breakpoints almost, just so I could have the ‘fix’ that I so desperately need. In recent years, where every place is darned against snuff, I run the risk of imprisonment and probably death for what could be a breath in my little best friend.

I have given up to 3 times in total.

The first time I did not because my partner at the time gave me, if we had not started smoking again I’m sure it could be either in jail now to do something stupid strong with kitchenware.

The second time was 18 months ago. I made a promise to my new partner who does not smoke. This time for good old unwillingness, (a duck lame excuse guess). Keep in mind, she was almost ready to be my ex-partner after the first week, as I am told, errmmm not nice person!

The third time was as a result of a heart attack last year. I stopped for 3 weeks and then, like a fool, gave cravings. It was the ‘spend every waking moment thinking of nothing’ syndrome. I had some harsh words from my cardiologist about smoking and weight and drinking too much coffee, as he sat outside the hospital cafeteria with Fried Egg Butty black, coffee and . . . you guessed it . . . one FAG!

Both my parents were heavy smokers and managed to leave due to chronic illness, but then my mother died. He died of cancer at the age of 68.

If ever there was good reason for me Quitting then I have plenty. I am 50, overweight, and suffered a heart attack last year, but guess what, I still can not. This fear of what will replace the dreaded weed, anxiety, hunger, the need for nicotine. It scares the crap out of me.

On a conscious level matures know they have no other choice but if I can reduce, for example 10 a day, will have to be okay? In all other aspects of my life but I am against my God, I hate these things that I need as much as the air that sometimes I struggle to breathe.

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