It began when I was 26 years old...late by most standards. I was doing a lot of traveling to Los Angeles, meeting with movie producers, executives, managers, etc., in promoting and optioning a screenplay that I had been working on, and I suppose that peer pressure got the best of me and I picked up my first cigarette. I'm now 28 years old and on the downside of quitting, though the old adage "Once a smoker, always a smoker" rings in my ears daily, as I can't imagine there will ever be a time when I won't suddenly crave a cigarette.

It's not all the fault of Nicotine...I believe that one of the main reasons that I smoked, and still occasionally pick up a cigarette, take a few puffs and then chastise myself, is because of the oral fixation. I like the feeling of holding the cigarette in my hand and taking a drag; I like the way it feels when I tap off the ashes and watch the smoke trail up into the air. Sure, I like the initial, and very slight, buzz that one gets when they haven't smoked for a while and the rush hits their brains...but I don't like the sore chest, the decreased endurance, the coughing.

It's all a trade off, and I don't think that anyone can say that remaining a smoker and trading off your health is a good choice, but that doesn't make quitting any easier. I believe that it all comes down to will power and setting limits. I started by not allowing myself to smoke in the house, and then eventually not in the car (which, by the way were some of my best cigarettes of the day), and eventually I weaned myself completely. Now, I'll only pick one up if someone else is smoking and I can't stand watching them without partaking, but I refuse to allow myself to actually finish a cigarette. Eventually, I know that I will be free of the habit, but I don't think I'll ever be free of the "addiction".

Learn more about this author, Sarah Williams.
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