My Mom, my grandparents, my aunts and my uncles all smoked. I grew up around smokers and it was always a part of my life. By the time I was 11 years old, I knew I wanted to do “that”.
At 11, an older cousin, my older sister and I snuck out to the back alley behind our house to share the single cigarette we had stolen from my aunt. The adults had all gone out to bingo, a common pastime for adults as I was growing up and we could’ve smoked inside the house but we were all too scared of getting caught.
I remember my sister coughing dramatically while both my cousin and I seemed like we had been smoking a long time. It came naturally to us. I remember experiencing a euphoric headrush and thinking to myself that I was definitely going to do “that” again!
Over the next few years, I would continue sneaking smokes from my Mom, especially if I was hanging out with this cousin. As one of the oldest cousins, he was regularly our babysitter when the adults would go to bingo on paydays. I always loved to smoke in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and watching as I exhaled the smoke from between my lips.
At 14, I began dating a punk rocker who loved to claim we were “straightedge except for sex“. That meant no drinking, no drugs – including cigarettes. Only once while we were together did I sneak a smoke that he never knew about during a night out with friends I rarely hung out with. It was outside the local Wal-Mart and I made them huddle all around me while we shared a single cigarette between the four of us, so worried that my boyfriend would catch me.
At 16, I began dating Alfie, the father of my three oldest kids. He was already a regular and heavy smoker and even though our relationship was abysmal, he always supported my smoking habit. He was also hugely influential in the beginning of my 20-year-long daily weed habit which eventually saw me smoking 5 – 7 joints a day!
I continued smoking through each of my pregnancies and while I felt horrible for doing so, I often justified it by saying life was so stressful (which was/is true) that smoking was saving people’s lives (not mine but other people’s). I definitely have always been the type of person who smokes more when I’m feeling stressed out.
I’ve never legitimately tried to quit smoking. I’ve had multiple hospital stays, two weeks or longer, where I will claim I am done with smoking and won’t smoke for the duration but the moment I’m released back into the real world, I pick up right where I left off. Smoking is my favorite thing to do and the idea of quitting feels like choosing to suffer. Why should I deny myself my favorite thing?!?
I have now been smoking cigarettes consistently for 21 years. I quit smoking weed about 8 months ago and haven’t struggled at all with that, which was a serious shock to me. I always thought it’d be harder to quit weed than it would be to quit cigarettes. I don’t know if I’ll ever quit smoking and it’s not currently on my radar to quit. Maybe one day but not anytime soon…
Valerie Rayne Smokes 