Thread: Anyone here quit smoking successfully?

I just stopped buying them and hanging around people who would give me one, but still if I'm having a beer with someone who smokes I'll be politely bothering them for just one more all night. Then I won't have one for weeks and months, then I'll have a couple or ten again, then no more for months, etc.

[EDIT] so I guess the answer is 'not me'...

Update.
I saw the doctor last week, filled the script for Chantix, and began taking it this weekend.
Now I need to pick a date. Going to re-read this thread tonight.

Good luck, looks like the start of a new you

Chantix works like a charm. Pretty soon cigarettes will do NOTHING for you. That makes it much easier to quit. Best of luck to you, sir!

First, good luck with the endeavour, you're going to make it.

I started smoking at 15 and from 18 I've done 2 packs a day for the next 15 years. I quit in 2009, in support to my wife, when we learned that we're going to be parents

Did it cold turkey, and yes, the first two weeks are the worst: first week, I woke up one night and turned on the TV, it was some film with Gregory Peck. The bastard was leaning on a submarine deck, smoking Camels (or Lucky Strikes, whatever ) I've instantly crumbled and proceeded to roll a generous one from some dried up old tobbaco I've been keeping up since forever... after two puffs, got so dizzy that I could swore I saw Jesus so I throwed it

Never smoked again after that, but I kept dreaming myself smoking for about a year. One night I remember dreaming that I had a cigarette between each finger Even now, I sometimes have a mild craving, but it passes quickly.

Another thing I remember is that it was also the habit which I had to get rid of; I could smoke at work, so I usually lit one every time I'd tinker with a server (I'm work in IT) so I found myself sucking a pencil instead, for quite a while. No pencils were harmed

I should also mention that I'm not known to have a particulary strong will

Be well!

When I was 8 years old, my mother made me visit this old lady who went to church with us named Ms. Pratt. She was one of those pleasant old ladies that kids like because she always made cookies and cakes and things and brought them to pot-luck dinners. Anyway, my mother, who was a nurse, thought it would be a good idea to visit Ms. Pratt, who was in the final stages of death by lung cancer, and bring me along. So I’m all excited about going to see Ms. Pratt, thinking I’m gonna score some peanut butter fudge or some caramel chocolate chip cookies.

Well, we go into the house and there is this old, gray THING laying in a bed hooked to machines while this device that sounded like Darth Vader pumped oxygen into her body. My excitement turned into terror and I ran from the house in tears. I didn’t understand what was wrong with Ms. Pratt and why wasn’t she offering me a fried chocolate pie and WHY DOES SHE LOOK LIKE THAT! So my mother explained that she was really sick and she was dying of an illness called cancer.

A couple of days later we are at school and our teacher is talking to us about President Reagan getting shot and somehow in the intense discussion of 3rd graders debating the implications of the leader of the free world and his attempted assassination, the topic of cancer comes up. My teacher, Mrs. Treat, explained that cancer was a disease that you got from smoking.

Now, this was a different time than today. At my school, KIDS could smoke when they were 14 if they had a note from their parents giving them permission. All I knew was that my daddy smoked a pack of Marlboro Reds everyday and had since he was 14. So to my young mind, I equated Smoking=cancer. Cancer=Death. Death=my daddy was going to die from smoking, no questions asked.

So I bolt from the classroom, run off the grounds, cross Highway 16, sprint through Pine Snag, run across Odell Pollard's cow pasture, cross the Little Red River at Ramsey’s Landing, run up the road through River Drive Estates all the way to our farm. Now there were no cell phones back then and we lived in the middle of nowhere, so the school hadn’t notified my parents yet that I was AWOL. I come running up and my dad just assumes that I have ran away from school (I got into trouble a lot back then) and he already has his belt off and is preparing to give my ass his best Indiana Jones impersonation.

“Boy! What in the hell are you doin here and not in school God Damn it! Did you get in trouble you again you little son of a bitch!?”

So I come running up crying my eyes out saying how they told us at school that smoking causes cancer and when you get cancer you die like Ms. Pratt and I love you daddy and I don’t want you to die and PLEASE STOP SMOKING you can whip me all you want but please don’t smoke anymore daddy!

So for the second time in his life that I ever saw, daddy started crying and he crushed out his cigarette on his boot heel and dropped his belt. He picked me up and said “Alright Boy. Daddy won’t never smoke again.”

And that cigarette he crushed out on his boot heel 33 years ago was the last one he ever smoked.

Hang in there bro,

Use the Chantix or gum or anything that helps, but keep in mind that it's ultimately YOU that will have to do this. You can "know" that it's good to quit, but until you see yourself as a non-smoker it will be very difficult to put the smokes away. Been there. All the best wishes to you.

Bill