Not Renounce Loving

Table of contents:

Video: Not Renounce Loving

Video: Not Renounce Loving
Video: Not Renounce ,Loving !-Не отрекаются,Любя!(romance) 2024, March
Not Renounce Loving
Not Renounce Loving
Anonim

Author: Sergey Labkovsky

Dedicated to drug addicts, gambling addicts and alcoholics …

When asked what he values most in love, Honore de Balzac replied: "A sip of cognac before and a cigarette after."

Acquaintance

The first time I smoked at 7 years old in a pioneer camp. My older brother, who was considered an experienced smoker, shared a cigarette with me - at that time he was 12. The first time he did not get involved, but at school high school students took up the youngsters - they treated them, we lit a cigarette and, of course, immediately coughed. The painstaking work on the transfer and perception of experience began. For example, they told us: "Come on, kid, inhale the smoke and try to read the poem without letting the smoke out of your mouth."

The poem was simple.

Grandma lit the stove, And the smoke did not go.

Grandfather lit the stove

- The smoke has gone.

In those years, few thought about the dangers of smoking and there was no anti-nicotine propaganda.

Love

At 12, I smoked almost constantly, at 14 - like a pack (20 cigarettes) a day.

One summer night I went out into the kitchen to smoke through the wide open window. There was some noise in the street, and I did not hear my father come out of the toilet. He did not hesitate and immediately slapped me in the crack. Then he began with me already quite peaceful, detailed conversation. The main idea that he tried to convey to me then was that "surely and very soon the day will come when you CANNOT not smoke." It seemed unreal to me, I swagged and said that this would never happen and that I would of course give up as soon as I wanted.

Just so far I liked everything, and I liked it a lot!

And my father knew well what he was talking about, because he started smoking at the age of 17, having got into a sniper school at 42. At the time of our conversation about the dangers of smoking, he was 50, he had already experienced a heart attack, and subsequently fell ill with cancer.

Permanent relationship

I began to hide, I no longer smoked at home, but outside of it I smoked constantly and everywhere. And one day at three o'clock in the morning I realized that my father was right: when I woke up, I saw that there were no cigarettes and could no longer sleep. In the middle of the night I went to the taxi drivers, which means I was ready to give from 3 to 5 rubles per pack, while in the Java store it cost 30 kopecks. And it was already pure drug addiction at the age of 16.

In those years I smoked a terrible filth: cigarettes "Kazbek", "Smoke", "Herzegovina Flor". But the Morshansk "Prima" was considered the best!

Later, the Bulgarian "BT", "Rodopi", "Stewardess" entered my life, which had a particularly sour taste. It was considered a terrible chic to smoke Cuban "Legeros" and "Portogas", although it was impossible to smoke them for the simple reason that a defective cigar leaf was placed in them, and cigar tobacco was very strong and, in principle, could not be inhaled. Even experienced smokers and smokers coughed, but continued to buy and shoot Ligeros from Liberty Island.

Nobody heard about AIDS then, so they did not disdain with gobies - they picked up, tore off the filter and smoked it.

I remember the favorite pioneer camp of the DKBF "Scarlet Sails" (Twice Red Banner Baltic Fleet). So I see: the shift begins, we go into the building of the first detachment, and as soon as the counselors are out of sight, with the usual movement we take out packs of cigarettes from suitcases and backpacks (I am Borodino cigarettes) and throw them on the roof of the building, because we know that they will soon be running around, but we can't imagine life without a smoke.

Lyrical digression about the fact that smoking was not the only harmful addiction of schoolchildren. When I worked as a teacher in the camp of the Freight Automobile Plant No. 23, I observed the following dramatic scene: the shift begins, and children of 14-15 years old, accompanied by the counselors (they are also the drivers of the car plant), enter the camp. They are taken to an empty pit (aka a pool) with a depth of 2 to 5 meters and offered to immediately clean it. Marveling at this urgency, the pioneers throw their backpacks on the ground and descend into the muddy pit. The counselors immediately quickly get the ladders back and rush to the children's backpacks.

On that day, 120 bottles of vodka were confiscated from the bottom of the pool from the pioneers to obscene screams. The children realized that the rest did not go well from the very beginning. And counselors, on the contrary, perceived the weaning of alcohol not only as an educational action, but also as a trophy.

The harsh realities of the pioneer summer - 82.

Marriage

The years passed. Gradually, I began to smoke two packs, and from 40 to 50 years old - and three packs a day. I didn’t smoke only when I was sleeping, but I smoked in bed, smoked at home and at work (including at school). In the cinema, I could get up and go out to smoke right during the session, come back and watch the film. Friends perceived me as a smoking animal, and one glassblower artist cast my image in the form of a glass figurine - I was there with a mustache, a beard and, of course, with a cigarette between my fingers. And what, cool!

However, I was not the only one who was a heavy smoker, everyone around me smoked, although not so fanatically. There were rituals (for example, girls did not smoke on the go) and a slender, practiced ethic - how to shoot a cigarette. The one who shoots, in no case should have climbed into the pack with his fingers, so as not to hurt the rest of the cigarettes, but the one whose pack was not able to pull out the cigarette himself. Therefore, smokers knew how to click on the bottom of the pack so that the cigarette seemed to jump out by itself, and precisely to the length of the filter. And if you had your last cigarette, you had a legal right not to give it to anyone. However, if the shooter was a person “with concepts,” then he would not have asked for the latter.

I haven't smoked twice over the years. The first was when my mother-in-law gave me anti-nicotine gum. I chewed for 15 minutes, then threw away the entire package at once and lit a cigarette. I was not even afraid of oncology, believing that I would somehow survive to death on painkillers. Until one day a familiar doctor told about such a disease as pulmonary emphysema, in which a person chokes on his own lungs and no painkillers work here. And smokers are the first to be at risk for emphysema. I was so scared that I didn't smoke for an hour and 40 minutes. This was the second time she had quit smoking since the age of 14. But after this time, I lit a cigarette with renewed vigor, because I got nervous because of the threat of painful death hanging over me.

When I left for Israel for permanent residence, my brother (who smokes all his life and has not smoked for only 2 years in the army) gave me 10 packs of Stolichny cigarettes with him. They were considered good, expensive, high quality. And so, I work in the field - in the SASA kibbutz in the Golan, light up my "Stolichnye" and see that local "peasants" are pulling up on the smoke with the question: "What kind of grass?" Then such a reaction became a mystery to me. But later, when "Stolichny" ran out and I switched to the cheapest Israeli cigarettes "Nobles", I realized that the only thing that Soviet cigarettes did NOT smell like was tobacco. They could give off horse dung, garden burdock and wild wormwood, but there was no smell of tobacco. That is why "Stolichnye" seemed to the kibbutzniks anything but cigarettes.

In Israel, I began to smoke more modestly for purely economic reasons. But as soon as he began to earn money, the first thing he did was to switch to Parliament.

I do not remember myself as a non-smoker. I have never traveled if it took more than four hours to fly to the destination - the maximum time that I could hold out without cigarettes. It was a legitimate business to smoke before and after the flight, after a hearty lunch, while reading, watching a movie … I had no idea how I would drink coffee, talk, fall asleep and wake up - I could not and did not intend to do all this without cigarettes. I loved cigarettes and loved myself with a cigarette.

I remember I was in Rome in early spring, where it was no longer possible to smoke in restaurants, so the waiter had to put on a coat, take my table out to the sidewalk, I also dressed and ate on the street to smoke. I sat in the rain like a complete moron and saw how people in the restaurant were eating calmly in warmth and comfort, and even with music. And my restaurant bill always started at two euros for "special service".

All this was not in vain - 10 years ago I was diagnosed with coronary heart disease, followed by an operation. During the operation, I could not smoke, but with good reason I smoked before it (I'm worried!) And with a special high - after …

I didn’t quit, I stopped

About 6 years ago, for no apparent reason, I suddenly discovered that I do not like smoking anything. That I have an elementary psychological, psycho-physical, emotional, chemical, in short, addiction. From that moment on, I felt each cigarette not as an act of love, but as a forced concession to my addiction. It became disgusting.

After about a month, I stopped smoking. I didn’t quit, but stopped. What is the difference: when you stop stopping, you do it right away and you don’t dream of cigarettes, you don’t reduce their number gradually, you don’t get nervous and don’t ask your family and friends to support you in a harsh struggle. You just stop taking. And I quit after 37 years of smoking, the intensity of which I have already described. Since then for 6 years I have not smoked, I do not want and do not get annoyed when others smoke nearby.

Dear drug addicts! As long as you think that your story is about love, you will not quit smoking, and smoking will not quit you. While smoking is almost the only way to assert yourself, express yourself and feel free, a neurotic romance with a cigarette will last and kill.

Again. One of the reasons I have smoked for as long as I can remember is that I loved smoking. So it seemed to me. Pretty long. And a person will never give up what he loves.

It's like in any addiction - for the time being you are sure that this is love. The situation changes exactly at the moment when you realize that you are simply addicted, sick and weak.

Love is when joy and pleasure, addiction - fears, nerves and pain. When you understand this, you will be released. It let go of me.

Recommended: