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Manic, on the streets for months, having hitched my way out west, I felt my broken front tooth getting infected. Having originally set out from New York's Creedmore Hospital for California on one of the neighboring highways, looking for a "groovier" breed of mentally ill people, I decided at one moment to seek admission to a San Diego state mental hospital. It was there that I met the young lady who was prone to suicide attempts who I am calling "San Diego Mama."

Without any truly destructive habits, yet well-established in my mental illness, I was open to any body's suggestion for "a good time." "Mama" and I quickly established a relationship based upon smoking her cigarettes together. In those days one was free to smoke on the wards anywhere, anytime. Besides being the significant person in the birth of my 25-year cigarette addiction, I remember "San Diego Mama" for one other thing.

After we both were released, word got to me that she was hospitalized again, but on a medical unit at a nicer facility. Upon visiting her, I discovered that she had undergone a series of shock treatments. What amazed me is that she had no idea, no memory of who I was! Granted, she knew me for a relatively short period of time, but still, we were "smoking pals" for months! My only other personal knowledge about shock treatment therapy is through a close friend who also was into repeated suicide attempts. She, after being given a course of shock treatment therapy, completely forgot about suicide and her unhappiness and returned to her life of attending concerts, lectures, museums, movies with her friends. Shock treatment, for her, performs miracles. Every few years she returns for more. She swears by it!

My mental illness has been closely married to spiritual issues—an intimate relationship with God. I felt throughout my years of smoking that God desperately wanted me to quit so that I would not throw away the life with which He has graced me. Over the years—on birthdays, holidays—any remotely good reason for quitting, I tried. And always, I failed.

Eventually, I was led to a Nicotine Anonymous (Nic-A) fellowship. After a few months of attending, with yet more trying and failing, I announced to the group, "Next Thursday, August 23rd is pay day. I will wake up on that day, buy a pack of nicotine patches and never look back." It happened just as predicted. That was nearly three and a half years ago. The patch was a "boost" to be used while I was getting out of the habits of the psychological rituals connected with my dependency. Although I can say that I have not had a craving for a cigarette since that day, many find the process of quitting, with or without Nic-A, much more uncomfortable. I believe that critical to quitting is the firm, absolute decision to do so. That's what made that day in August different. Without the firm decision, I believe that there are no magic answers—nothing consumed, attached to your body or done to your head will do it for you. The conviction, the readiness is everything! And regular attendance at a Nicotine Anonymous fellowship can greatly assist. I will be attending such a group for the rest of my life. Always an addict, I need the help of Nic-A.