Smoking… What I Miss the Most

Summary

An ex-smoker reflects on the unexpected aspect of smoking they miss the most: the sense of community and deep connections formed with fellow smokers, illustrated by a meaningful mentorship experience with a recovering heroin addict named Suzie.

Abstract

The author, an ex-smoker, shares an unconventional perspective on what they miss about smoking, emphasizing the unique bond and camaraderie shared among smokers rather than the physical act of smoking itself. They recount a mentorship with Suzie, a recovering heroin addict with a challenging home life, where a shared cigarette transcended societal prejudices and facilitated a genuine friendship. This relationship underscored the importance of unconditional acceptance and human connection, which the author found more compelling than the addictive nature of smoking. The act of smoking together became a metaphor for breaking down barriers and fostering a space for vulnerable conversations, akin to sharing a meal. The author concludes that such connections were as vital to their well-being as their faith during a difficult divorce.

Opinions

The author values the sense of community among smokers, which provides a support system amidst societal stigma.
Despite the negative health implications, the author found that smoking could lead to profound and meaningful interactions.
The author believes that shared vices can bridge social divides and create unlikely friendships.
The act of smoking is likened to a sacred act of communion, akin to "breaking bread" in its ability to deepen human connections.
The author's experience with Suzie reinforced their commitment to unconditional acceptance and challenged societal stereotypes.
The author suggests that human connections and faith were instrumental in coping with personal trauma, such as a traumatic divorce.

Reflections of An Ex-Smoker

When you ask an ex-smoker what do they miss most about smoking, their responses are fairly predictable. They might say that it calmed their nerves or kept off unwanted pounds. But you might be surprised by my answer — it is the relationships.

Now we all know the foulness of this dirty, nasty, life-sucking addiction, and yet… I miss the sense of community that I shared with my ‘smoking buddies,’ or ‘partners in crime’. Because of the prejudice against smokers in our culture, most smokers can feel quite despicable as they ashamedly light up that loathsome stick of poison!

Around 30 years ago I signed up to do volunteer work for an organization called SCAN. (Spokane Child Abuse and Neglect Prevention Center — located in Spokane, Washington). I was a mother with 3 small children when I agreed to be a mentor to other moms who were at risk for abusing or neglecting their children. I attended about 12 hours of training so that I could more or less know what I was doing, once I was assigned a new client.

One day, I received a call from the caseworker who was supervising me. She told me I was matched with a woman named Suzie. She conveyed, “This might be, well, um…kind of challenging. Suzie is a recovering heroin addict. She is clean now, but her husband is still using. They live in a small house, located in a low-income district known for its crime and drug problems. Oh yes, and one more thing… they have 5 children. Is this someone you would feel comfortable with?”

Without hesitation, I said I would be honored to take on this most interesting case.

At that time, I was living the ‘suburban life’ in a middle-upper class neighborhood with all the trimmings. But I had grown up on the ‘other side of the tracks’ with just the necessities. Having been raised in a low-income neighborhood by a single mom employed as a social worker, it was quite natural for me to relate with the ‘underdogs’. My Mom had taught me the importance of practicing unconditional acceptance for all people. I never wanted to transform into one of the righteous snobs I had despised in my youth. For me, working with Suzie was a chance to reaffirm that I was not and never would become one of those ‘holier than thou’ social climbers.

It was finally time to meet Suzie. As I parked my car in front of her house, I scrutinized the ramshackle house with its dilapidated roof, a few boarded windows, and the yard replete with rocks and weeds. I wondered if I should I be scared.

Maybe?

Nonetheless, I found myself knocking on the shoddy plywood door and then Suzie tentatively opened it. The inside of her house was exactly as I had envisioned, but she did not in the least match the stereotype I had cast her in. As she welcomed me into her home, I remember a sense of surprise and relief. Suzie turned out to be a warm, smart, and bright-eyed treasure.

Apologizing for the disarray, she looked at me warily and offered me a cup of tea. I accepted and watched as she put on the kettle and scrounged the dirty sink of dishes for a couple of faded cups. She washed them while apologizing once more for the mess.

As we dipped our teabags she asked with apprehension, “Do you mind if I smoke?” I don’t know what possessed me (after all, I was an ‘almost-professional’), but I replied, “Can I have one too?”

As I lit up, I disclosed that I was a ‘closet smoker’ and asked her to please not tell anyone about this horrible and unprofessional act I had just committed! We both laughed and I sensed a change in her…. like a heavy garment of shame had suddenly ‘gone up in smoke’.

For several months, I was Suzie’s mentor. I did give her some advice on raising children… and husbands, but mostly we became friends. We shared many stories of our colorful, and sometimes tragic lives. I once asked her what heroin felt like and she answered, “Like a warm blanket of the purest love you could ever imagine.”

That one statement taught me so much. Another time, I drew with my finger the letter V on her forehead. When she asked me what it stood for, I said… “Validated”.

She responded with a delight I have rarely witnessed. Toward the end of our time together, she shared, “Do you know what meant the most to me?… It was on that first day when you lit up that cigarette. I don’t know, but somehow I felt safe.”

It’s a curious thing, but many times in my life when I have ‘shared a smoke’, it was almost like lighting up a deeper more vulnerable conversation. As sacrilege as it might sound…sometimes it felt like ‘breaking bread’ together.

Many years later, I went through a traumatic divorce. Now, if someone asks me how I survived it I answer, “Truthfully?… Jesus and cigarettes.”

Most people laugh, but it is a truth that only Jesus would get. After all, didn’t Jesus hang out with all those heathen prostitutes and tax collectors?