Okay, Gary, here it is:--The following is a pretty long post. But for those who smoke and would like to quit, I think it's worth whatever it takes. This worked for me, and I hope it works for you. If you smoke and really don't want to quit, don't bother reading this post, just skipped it.
I was about seventeen or eighteen when I first started smoking. Neither of my parents smoked and they were strongly opposed to smoking, but most of my buddies around school and elsewhere did smoke. The first few cigarettes I smoked made me dizzy and a bit nauseated, but since it was "cool," I persisted. I had to force myself and learn to smoke, because at first, my body rebelled. When I finally got so I could smoke without much danger of barfing, I smoked on the sly, but not at home. About four years later, when I got interested in singing folk songs, I was up to sucking in about a pack and half or two packs a day.
Time marched on and I did some television, started singing long-term engagements in coffeehouses, and did a batch of concerts. On one occasion in the early Sixties, I had to bail out of a fairly good paying, long-term singing engagement. Chronic acute laryngitis. Six weeks of not using my voice at all, not even to talk. My laryngologist asked me a pertinent question: "If you were a clarinetist instead of the singer, would you blow hot smoke through your instrument thirty or forty times a day? Believe me, a clarinet can take it a lot better than your vocal cords can!" But when I got my voice back, I was also back to smoking again. Nicotine affects the brain. It anesthetizes your common-sense neurons and stimulates your "stupid center."
Someplace along the line, what the laryngologist said got to replaying itself in my head, and at the same time I got a bit tired of my morning wake-up ritual of sitting there on the edge of the bed for about fifteen minutes trying my damnedest to cough up a lung. I tried about four or five times to quit smoking. I tried cold-turkey, which I was told was the way to do it. Never worked. I'd last for about three days, then my body would take over and I'd be setting fire to my nose again. Bloody hopeless! I was really hooked!
In 1976 I went to work for the phone company as an operator. No smoking while on the board. Delicate electronic equipment and all that. Smoking on breaks and at lunchtime only, and then only in the lunchroom or break room. So this limited my smoking a bit.
Also 1976, Barbara and I started keeping steady company. Barbara doesn't smoke. Never did. She's one of these people whose sense of smell is so acute that she can sniff the air here in Seattle and say, "It's especially smoggy in Los Angeles today." And like a lot of people, second-hand smoke really bothers her. Makes her feel a bit sickish. So I didn't smoke whenever we were together. After awhile, not smoking around her was no problem. Then, in December of 1977 we got married. I smoked when I was out by myself, I smoked at work on breaks and lunch, and I smoked when we were out together if other people around us were also smoking. But I decided not to smoke in our apartment. If I needed to smoke that badly, I would step outside. I did some of that early on, but after a few weeks it just got to be too much of a hassle.
Over a period of several months, my smoking had tapered down quite a bit. Without counting and rationing my cigarettes, I discovered that I was down to about half a pack a day. Then, taking advantage of circumstances, I began consciously eliminating cigarettes one by one. The first cigarette I smoked in the morning was at work, just before plugging in. I started skipping that one, and my first of the day became the one I smoked on my first coffee break. Once I was comfortable with that, I smoked only one at lunchtime instead of the usual two. Soon, I was down to just five or six a day.
On Sunday, June 18, 1978, John Dwyer invited the Seattle Song Circle to meet at his beachfront home in Marysville, about an hour's drive north of Seattle. Most of us arrived in mid-afternoon, complete with our potluck dishes and fully prepared to partake of John's heap of magnificent barbecued ribs. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we sat around on John's deck talking and enjoying the sunshine and the fresh breeze off Puget Sound as it lapped at the shoreline just a few feet away. John didn't smoke, nor did he allow smoking in the house, so any air polluting you wanted to do, you had to do it out on his deck. I pulled out my pack of ciggy-butts and noticed that I had only three left, and made a mental note to buy a pack from the machine when I got to work in the morning.
Then it occurred to me — I was down to about five or six cigarettes a day. By now, I was used to going for fairly long periods without smoking and it didn't especially bother me. And tomorrow was my birthday. I couldn't think of better circumstances or of a more auspicious occasion to quit. To quit entirely.
Over the afternoon, while sitting on John Dwyer's deck enjoying the pleasant company and the beautiful weather, I smoke my three remaining cigarettes, gave my Bic lighter to a woman there who was also smoking, wadded up the empty pack, and when we went back into the house, I dropped it into John's waste basket.
Monday, June 19th, my forty-seventh birthday, was my first smoke-free day in about thirty years. During the subsequent week or two, a few times I found myself reaching into my shirt pocket. But this was out of kinetic habit, not any actual urge. This lasted for only a couple of weeks, was not accompanied by any particular discomfort, and very soon it just went away. Quitting was easy. Amazingly — incredibly — easy!
I have not smoked since, nor have I missed it. In fact, I thoroughly enjoy the freedom of not smoking. And on top of this, I'm now 70 years old — and my singing voice is still full and strong, and it's as clear as it has ever been, if not clearer.
Although they tell you that quitting cold turkey is the best way, I personally think that although some can make it, most inveterate smokers just can't handle it. I tried several times, and it was hell, and I failed. If you really want to quit, or at least feel you should quit, you don't have to do anything drastic — like getting married. I just blundered into "The Firth Method," but I don't see any reason why you couldn't plan it carefully and be just as successful as I was.
It consists, first, of deciding on times and places when you will not smoke. "I will not smoke in my car." Or "I will not smoke when I'm with so-and-so." Or "I will not smoke while I am (doing whatever)." A half-hour here, an hour there. At first you'll have to hang on a bit, but just remind yourself that in a little while you can light up again. When you become comfortable with that (and you will, fairly quickly), wait for a bit, then choose another place or circumstance and define that as a no-smoking area in your life.
In many circumstances people tend to smoke a series of cigarettes. Get into the car, close the door, start the engine, pull away from the curb, light a cigarette. At a party (where people are smoking) step through the door, greet your host, take off your coat, and while surveying the other guests, light a cigarette. Sit down at the computer, position your cup of coffee so that you won't dumped it on the keyboard, light a cigarette, reach for the mouse. These are usually the first of a series. Decide not to light that first one. Wait for fifteen minutes. Or half an hour. If you do that consistently, you might soon just catch yourself sitting at the computer for a couple of hours and forgetting to smoke. You snort? Try it!
By chipping away here and there, you'll gradually reduce the amount you smoke. You'll also diminish the associations you have between smoking and particular people, places, events, and activities. It's just sound psychology, and it's something you're doing yourself. You're in control. Just keep at it. Plan to take it slow and easy, over a period of six months. Or a year. But just keep chipping away, slowly eroding your smoking habit. This also gradually gets your body used to less and less nicotine. No great withdrawal symptoms. It's just a matter of paying attention to what you are doing. If you stick with these easy steps, you'll finally get it down to the point where you're only smoking a few cigarettes a day. Then, you can quit entirely with no great wrench.
It can be done. And believe me, you'll never regret it. Give it a shot.
Don Firth