When I first quit smoking, all I could think about was what I was losing.
My “breaks.” My stress relief. That comforting little ritual after a meal, before bed, in the car, on a walk, during a crisis, after a crisis, while thinking about a crisis.
I felt like I was cutting out this big, important part of my life. Like I’d just lost a toxic ex and suddenly everything reminded me of them. Coffee tasted different. Mornings were weird.
Every craving came with an emotional punch in the gut: Poor me, I can’t have a cigarette.
The Deprivation Mindset: a One-Way Ticket to Miserable-ville
That “I can’t” energy is powerful. And not in a good way. When you view quitting smoking as depriving yourself of something you love, you’re setting yourself up to be bitter, anxious, and constantly tempted. That mindset whispers things like:
- “You deserve a reward. Just one.”
- “Life is so boring now.”
- “Non-smokers don’t get it.”
- “You’re being too hard on yourself.”
Sound familiar?
That line of thinking nearly tanked my quit. Multiple times.
Then Came the Flip…
I realized I was planning my day around smoke breaks, not my passions, not my people, just nicotine. I wasn’t free. I was chained to a craving. The day I finally said, ‘No more,’ was the day I started living on my own terms again
It hit me like a freight train full of fresh air and Nicorette.
What if I wasn’t a poor, deprived ex-smoker? What if I was actually the lucky one?
What if I wasn’t losing anything but gaining everything?
Reframing the Quit: What I Gained by Walking Away
The moment I started seeing smoking for what it really was, a manipulative little monster that convinced me I needed it, I got mad.
I realized smoking didn’t relieve stress. It created it. It didn’t give me freedom. It robbed me of it. It didn’t make me cool, interesting, or edgy. It made me cough up phlegm at 8am and smell like a tire fire.
Here’s what I actually got when I quit:
- Peace (no more panicking about running out of cigarettes)
- Money (like, a stupid amount of money)
- Pride (the “hell yeah I quit” kind)
- Energy (walking up stairs without sounding like a 90-year-old smoker in a horror film)
- Time (no more disappearing every hour to puff in secret like Gollum with a Bic lighter)
And that freedom feels a hell of a lot better than a cigarette ever did.
TL;DR: You’re Not Deprived, You’re Delivered
Quitting smoking isn’t punishment. It’s permission. Permission to live. To breathe. To thrive. To wear white without fear of ash burns.
So next time your brain starts in with the “poor me, I can’t smoke” monologue, hit it with this:
“I can smoke. I’m just choosing not to. Because I deserve better.”
You’re not deprived. You’re free. And freedom? Freedom looks good on you.