I think sometimes I smoked to be "part of the club." Sometimes I just feel inherently different than everyone else. I feel like most people in the world can't relate to me and I can't relate to them and in a social environment where I don't know lots of the people...it just feels...well, awkward.
And in those situations, there are always one or two fellow smokers. And it's like, right away, when I would find the other smokers, I would know that I instantly had a friend at the party. We were cohorts in crime, the rebels, the bad guys (and girls), and these days, fellow outcasts.
I somehow felt that these people just "got it." Maybe they were a little messed up like me. Maybe they had problems. Real people problems, like me. Maybe their lives weren't all a bed of roses. Maybe they had been through some things...they had lived through tough times...I mean, there has to be something a little wrong with people who willingly inject poison into their bodies on a daily basis right? Maybe they had things they wanted to forget or escape, just like me.
In fact, when meeting fellow smokers we never talked about this sort of thing. I always thought that maybe it was just there, underlying our interactions. But we would talk and joke about how we were the only ones "crazy" enough to be outside in the cold smoking, or how relieved we were to find someone who wouldn't judge us for what we were doing. It was like our own little club. Instantaneous friendship. An instant common bond.
And it was actually kind of a cycle because the more socially unacceptable smoking became, the more of an outcast smokers became. And whatever trouble I had relating to "normal" people would be magnified by the fact that I had revealed myself to be one of those "disgusting smokers." And so I would be even further removed from making any sort of connection with them.
And this separation and alienation made the bond with the fellow smokers even more special, and cemented our instant friendship even more. We bonded over being outcasts, which made us even more of outcasts, which made us bond even more.
Now, I am starting to wonder... when I go to a party with new people, who will I instantly befriend? Do I go hang out with the smokers but not smoke? Will they not want me there? Will I just be a constant reminder that they need to quit, but can't or don't want to yet? I feel the most like them, yet, maybe I'll no longer be welcome there.
Do I hang out with the "normal" people and stand around in awkward silence trying to find some way to relate? Do I try to pretend that I also judge those horrible smokers. Will they see through me? Will they know I'm a fraud and secretly wishing I could have "just one" without becoming addicted?
Do I stand off in a corner by myself, stuck in some sort of no man's land?
How do I find my place as a recovering smoker? Where do I fit?
It's tough to know that I'm out of the club. I've willingly resigned.
I'm just not sure if I should join a new one or forge on alone.
