Hi all, this is my first and probably last post, as down under in the land of Oz, our masters are slamming the gates shut. My saviour is demonised and become a bland, inferior substitute sitting on a chemists shelf and guarded by the white coats. I pity the hundreds of thousands of smokers denied the same opportunity as myself, and detest the politicians whose hands now wear their blood. But governments fall and something will evolve from change, and I’m confident we"ll be back one day, but for now, I have to observe from the fringes. It could be worse though, and I consider myself one of the lucky ones, as I experienced vaping for what it could be before it became a roadkill. A ‘good ol’ days’ story for the grandchildren I may now live to see.
Many of you realise the toll of years of miserable failed quitting attempts. Some of my attempts were genuine, and some were pathetic, half-hearted offerings to appease a guilty conscience. Waking and the first conscious feelings being guilt and shame for what you desire the most, to surrender to an addiction that you know is killing you. To rob yourself, and those who you love, of your life, and to become intimate with hopelessness and helplessness. Sarcastically, I used to call tobacco my ‘life support system’ as there was no living without it. The chemist’s remedies took only the edge off the withdrawal madness, and the doctors poison introduced it own debilitating curse. Bed ridden depression didn’t seem like a smart solution. At least, that’s what a concerned loved one thought as they took my pills from me and said, “No more.” There were no more futile attempts as I was defeated. Self-loathing and accepting my fate was to die from something that I wasn’t strong enough to prevent. I gave up giving up.
May of 2019, the tide would turn. Whilst visiting a friend who was in hospital for lung cancer, as I sat and talked to the withered man and witnessed what I believed to be my own terrifying fate, he gave me my first vape. Sceptical to say the least, but upon first puff, the planets aligned, and something fell into place. For the first time in decades, I felt something not defined and something I struggled to remember. I felt hope.
The transition wasn’t instant, my juice wasn’t strong enough, and I was going through coils like lollies at a childs birthday party. 50mg salts burst onto the scene with a vengeance, as it would literally drop me in a euphoric dizzy mess. The elusive mythical nicotine demon I had been chasing for all these years could suddenly be caught, and it was grabbed by the tail, and we wrestled until exhaustion set in. Nicotine and I needed to come to an agreement, and the limits had to be learned. Whilst in the process of this, my smoking dwindled to a single habitual morning cigarette.
Two weeks into my journey, the unpalatable morning smoke was stubbed out after two puffs. Decades of a toxic dependence syndrome became transparent, and smoking was laid to rest that day. After an eternity of failures, there was no pain or struggle, and I hadn’t even tried. It felt as though I had given up quite by accident. My tobacco sat going stale, and sometimes I’d think ‘I beat you’. But in reality, I never stood a chance. My vape was the triumphant one.
That was five years ago, and there’s not the slightest urge to smoke again. Nostalgia surfaces when tobacco drifts on the wind as it reminds me of some good times, but there’s no desire to relive a past. It had taken a few years to find my happy place, but eventually, the code was cracked. The journey’s not over, I’m still vaping nicotine, and it is as yet to wave a white flag, but that doesn’t bother me. After 25 years of smoking, I’ve tasted freedom from tobacco, and now I’m not afraid to have hope for the future. And that is truly priceless.