A lot of couples struggle when one person quits smoking and the other does not. I’ve been reflecting on recent Quit Train discussions on this topic, because for decades I was "the smoking spouse."
I didn’t smoke in our home or in our car. But the smoke clung to me and was present everywhere I went. It caused a ton of tension with my mate. The stink. The health worries. The temptation to join in. She H-A-T-E-D my smoking.
That felt like a very personal rejection to me. She knew I was a smoker before we got together (and even joined in sometimes), so why couldn’t she accept me for who I was? I was making my own choices. Why did she want me to give up something I loved? She had bad habits that bugged me, so why couldn’t I have a bad habit that bugged her?
All of this felt very visceral and valid on the surface. But in actuality it was stinkin thinkin, and a rotten heap of rationalization.
My smoking was not a mere “bad habit.” It was a raging addiction. And living with an addict is tough. Getting my fix of nicotine was always the priority, always the organizing principle of our lives, one that I superimposed on her without her consent. Smoking was how I spent a lot of my time and money. Over and over again, I’d walk away from her – literally and figuratively – to go smoke. Over and over again, I chose to put my own gratification first - above her feelings and fears. This de-centered and abandoned her in subtle but significant ways. Not the kind of spouse I wanted to be.
My partner knew better than to try to force me to quit. She knew that breaking an addiction only happens from an internal commitment. But we still fought about it. And what I learned during those fights (eventually… begrudgingly… belatedly…) turned out to be important. It helped me recognize how my smoking affected her. I also became weary of all the tension around the issue. I had an ambivalent relationship with smoking anyway. Was it really worth all the crap it was causing?
As this was percolating, I was also watching my father die. He was sick for many years, and my mother sacrificed everything for his care. It depleted her physically, financially, and emotionally. Watching that slow motion tragedy was instructive. I didn’t want that for my relationship. Getting old is hard enough, even without complications from smoking. There’s no predicting what the lotto of life will toss our way, but my smoking was unilaterally increasing the odds of a bad outcome that would affect her deeply. Again, not the kind of spouse I wanted to be.
I ultimately made my own decision to stop smoking. My partner was not the only reason I quit, but it was a big one. To this day, supporting her wellbeing is something I can hold onto and use to protect my quit when cravings arise.
Two highly independent people will always butt heads occasionally. I still annoy her sometimes, and vice versa. But quitting has right-sized our conflicts. Before I quit, small tensions absorbed extra energy from the major unresolved conflict between us (smoking). Refreshingly, now we just argue about dishes or yard work or whatever, without loaded subtext. I was fearful that I would feel resentful, but the opposite is actually true. Quitting is freeing. It's so much simpler. And the benefits for my partner are a beautiful part of my recovery journey.
I’m grateful for the chance to be on this healing road, with plenty of help from the good souls here on the Quit Train.
