The Nevada Sagebrush

Nick Coltrain

Quitting smoking is like killing a small bird with your bare hands: hard. Sure, I could do it, but do I have the will? And more importantly: Do I really want to?

I can speak truthfully about that strange analogy. I quit smoking nine-plus-three days ago (I relapsed during the weekend).

More than nine years ago, I held a crippled bird in one hand and a butcher’s knife in the other.

I was 12 years old and trying to will myself to put the billiard ball-sized animal out of its misery after finding my grandpa’s cat tormenting the thing. I chased the cat off and, when the bird couldn’t fly or even hop away, I wrestled with what I knew I must do.

And come to think of it, that was the same trip to my grandpa’s during which I took cigarettes from his wife and began the abusive relationship known as addiction. I didn’t consider myself a smoker for three more years, but goddamn did the small cylinders of cancer already appeal to me.

And while killing the bird didn’t have the appeal of the cigarettes, giving in and letting the animal suffer instead of making a tough call sure did.

Carrying the bird and the knife to the granite tabletop ravaged my preteen sense of responsibility. Retrospectively, I probably saw it as a hurdle into manhood.

It was why, with the trepidation and heavy-handedness of a child doing what he thought needed doing but couldn’t bear to do, I dropped the knife and grabbed the tiny head with the intent to twist.

Almost a decade later and cursing over my breath, I used the same twist to destroy the mostly-smoked pack of Camel Lights that was the rest of my stash. I was still heavy handed. And I was still trepid — committing to ending the habit was literally changing my life. No more five-minute vacations or excuses to go outside.

It was a choice as excruciating as whether or not to kill a bird with my bare hands. I knew it was what I needed to do; cigarettes were controlling me, dictating my schedule and my budget and starting to take a noticeable toll on my health.

I didn’t kill that bird because I couldn’t summon the will to do what was necessary. I didn’t quit smoking in the years before for the same reason.

But the addiction didn’t flutter away like the bird eventually did. That’s the trouble with trying to end an addiction. It’s right there and, if you pay attention, it’s easy to see what must be done. But it also makes a simple twist of your hands one of the hardest things in the world.

If you see Nick Coltrain smoking, tell him how disappointed you are by e-mailing ncoltrain@nevadasagebrush.com.

The UNR psychology department is trying to help. Join a smoking cessation study by e-mailing Michael Levin at levinm2@gmail.com.

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