January 20, 2014. One week before the spring semester started. One day after I got home from visiting my cousin Sam in Florida for a week. Go figure, the week I visited was the week after she and her boyfriend quit smoking. The funny thing was, I thought I’d quit the week after visiting, so being around them smoking wouldn’t make it more difficult for me! Anyway. I smoked a pack a day for 10 years.

Nicotine is out of your system in approximately 4 days, “then you’re done” I thought, so I quit a week before the beginning of Spring semester. I’d never heard a quitting-smoking story from any first-person narrative besides my dad’s, but his “I smoked for 30 years and quit cold turkey” thing I never bought because, well, Dads exaggerate. So for research purposes, I quit cold turkey.

I was elated after I’d gone a week without smoking. It was the first I’d been a day without a cigarette in a decade, and my nasal stuffiness was already going away in ways it had never gone away before. But, the lack of mental clarity was inexplicable. The acute “saddenings” were the worst. I got caught crying in two different classes, pretending to need to use the bathroom. I would catch myself not paying attention in class, then get so upset about not paying attention that I’d cry. This cycle lasted for weeks, until I thought I needed to see someone.

That month I learned that the chemicals in cigarettes interact with dopamine receptors and can cause  anxiety, depression, and mood swings when interrupted. The feeling of complete lack of control over my emotions I found comparable to a variety of emotional disturbances, and interestingly similar to a depression, allowing me just a glimpse into what it really feels like.