I was an unbelievably heavy smoker when I was young. Like a 3-4 pack-a-day smoker. I once passed up a promotion because the job would have put me in an office where smoking wasn't allowed. After that, I cut down to about a pack and a half a day but couldn't get beyond that point. A new job I took didn't allow smoking, so I lived for breaks when I would suck down 3-4 Camels as fast as I could.
One snowy night I went to grab a brew out of the fridge and thought I'd get out my spare pack and found it wasn't there. I looked in the pack I had and saw I had three smokes left. My steep driveway was buried in about six inches of snow, and that would have meant shoveling to get out, then shoveling again in the morning. I actually considered walking to the store to get a pack, but it was about a mile away (yeah, folks, back then I would walk a mile for a Camel). I smoked one of the cigs, deciding to call it a night and get a fresh back on the way to work. Then I went to sleep.
Next morning there was about two feet of heavy snow I had to shovel. I lit up a smoke, stuck the last one behind my ear, and hit the road. Once I got out, I found the roads were just slick as hell. When I hit the thruway there were cars off the road everywhere, and even though I have what I consider to be extraordinary winter driving skills, this was one of those commutes where both hands were almost glued to the wheel the whole time. When I finally pulled into the parking lot about half an hour late, the manager was waiting outside.
"Hey, Dan, got a smoke?"
I paused for a second. I still had the damn cigarette behind my ear, never even thought about it the whole drive.
"Here, Paul... this is my last smoke."
"No, no.. that's OK, I don't wanna take your last smoke."
"No, please, take it. It's my last cigarette."
And I quit cold turkey, just like that. For about a month I wouldn't even take a break or lunch, just worked on through. I was so miserable I seriously didn't want to live anymore. The total absurdity of my addiction began to dawn on me, that I had been living my life from cigarette to cigarette like a midtown Manhattan junkie. At home I tanked up on carrot sticks and celery stalks, drank a lot of beer, and hit the hay early every night. And smoked a lot of weed (no nicotine anyway). Slowly, the addiction released its hold on me and I was smoke-sober for 7 years. Then a sudden craving at a bar caused me to bum a Camel from the guy sitting next to me. Three weeks later I was up to a pack a day again.
It's been a lifetime struggle for me. I don't think I'll ever be completely "cured", but I have learned to minimized the damage. I mostly just smoke OPs now, annoying as it is to other smokers around me. Good. Let them quit and I won't bum them anymore, best thing I could do for them. I binge from time to time and buy a package of premium rolling tobacco, especially when I am under a lot of stress. I am under a lot of stress right now, so I have a bag of Bali Shag out on the coffee table. I smoke maybe 3-4 a day. When my throat starts getting rough and I start hacking up bits of lung again, I'll toss the bag away and quit for another year or two.
I've learned from psych classes I took that there are people who are better off learning to manage their addictions that to try to completely control them. I have a very addictive personality, so everything from drink to food to fly fishing to playing the guitar can negatively impact my life because I don't just do it - I do it to excess. We are all different. There are not many folks I've met who can control their addictions the way I have learned to do, but for me, the hardest part of quitting is realizing I can never go back again. Leaving myself an out to dabbled occasionally rather that quitting forever has been the secret to control for me. Not as good as quitting completely, but it stops me from never quitting at all. One day at a time for all addictions, that's the rule for life AFAIC. No use beating yourself up for lapsing, just keep at it and eventually the lapses get further apart. Best some of us can do.