What I Learned This Week

Before I get into a list of life's lessons learned this week, I want to send positive thoughts to 3 people I love dearly. In one day I received the news that all 3 are fighting cancer. A painful reminder that cancer sucks. I pray they can beat this. Please add your prayers or positive thoughts to mine!

I've spent considerable time the past few months sharing some really personal things. In a way it has been freeing to do so, but also really scary. The fear of being judged is real. It's been rewarding to see some people comment that they can relate or to see people open up about their stories because I shared mine. It's helpful to know that the sharing of the dark things can help others. It has been super hard to deal with those who don't agree with me being open and honest. This week I was called a crazy person and I was told I should delete certain things from this blog and from my Twitter and Facebook accounts so others don't think the vapor industry is full of crazy people. I learned being brave comes with a price, but I also learned that being brave is something I must continue to do.

Someone I know and respect took me by surprise this week. They "did their research" about a project I'm connected to and instead of asking about it they made assumptions and then made threats. I caved to their demands. A project that was fighting back against illegal sellers of tobacco and vapor products to kids is now gone. I learned that I'm tired of fighting my own people. I learned I don't like myself very much when I should have fought back and didn't.

This week I learned if you make a bad choice and skirt the law, just own up to it. There are angry people in the world because they made the choice to do the right thing. Sometimes, doing the right thing can bring harm to that person or something important to them. They can resent those who didn't choose the right thing. By keeping mistakes and bad choices a secret, I was leaving myself open to someone using that choice as a weapon. My choice, as bad as it was, felt like the right thing to do at the time. I learned that one person's right can be another person's wrong.

I learned that sometimes when someone I know is wrong, it is more important to let them believe they're right than to prove them wrong. Sometimes protecting someone important to me is more important than my personal honor. I learned how to set a new kind of priority. After a lifetime of loading the evidence truck and dumping it on someone I disagree with, for once, I left the evidence in the warehouse, locked the door, and walked away. I learned going for a walk is a good thing.

Yesterday I went home early. I went out in my yard and laid in the grass. I realized I'm making a big mistake by never taking a day off from the shop and taking a day off from advocacy. I'm harming my relationships with my family and friends when all I can talk about anymore is Tobacco Harm Reduction. I have turned my life into a tunnel and am denying myself my favorite view - vivid green tree tops against a bright blue sky. My husband came out to see what I was doing. He laid down beside me and held my hand. I felt a connection to him I haven't felt in a very long time. We killed an hour talking and laughing. This was us when we were young. I learned I miss that feeling.

In the end, I learned the most important thing is to do the right thing for the right reason. I learned that people have power over me when I give them that power. This week I learned to take my power back.

Dear Tobacco Control

 

I've been called a smoker.

I've been told I stink.

I've been shamed for failing to quit.

I've been looked down on for not only failing to quit, but for being a repeat failure. 

I've been judged for polluting your air and turning your walls yellow.

I've been accused of being weak and lazy. 

I've been hated and found to be disgusting.

I've been treated like I'm not as good as you.

I've been told I have to quit smoking.

I've been told how to quit smoking.

I've been led to believe I'll never be good enough.

I've been treated like I'm damaged and broken until I ended up in believing that was my identity, and my name was smoker.

When I finally quit smoking, but didn't do it the way you wanted me to, you continued to judge me. You told me I didn't really quit. You started calling me an addict. I was still scum to you.

When I volunteered (that means I didn't get paid) to help a company owned by someone who used to smoke, develop products they hoped would help other people quit smoking you labeled us as evil. You accused us of marketing to kids because the products were flavored. You never asked why we created those products. You call us Big Tobacco when we have nothing to do with those large companies.

One of my local vape shops was in the lower income part of town. They kept their prices low to help the disadvantaged have an option for something safer than smoking. I know you know that lower income people smoke at a higher rate than upper income people, but you ignore that fact and say the prices are low so kids can afford them. In your eyes, when I took over that shop I was something even dirtier than smokers, I was a vape shop owner. It doesn't matter that the previous owner or I have never failed a compliance check, you take a joyous pleasure in accusing us of being part of the supply chain shoving JUUL down the throats of the youth of America. Funny thing is, we've never sold JUUL products. You never asked us why we owned a vape shop. You never asked what we sell or to whom.

You were the judge and jury and you passed a sentence without ever hearing our testimony.

Today, I'm sharing my testimony on how I ended up smoking and how I feel about my experiences...

I come from a long line of people who smoked. They weren't smokers, they were people. Most of them were really good people. The exception to that rule was my Dad. He had an anger in him that burned to the depths of his soul. He had a need to be in control and for everything around him to be perfect. Problem is, life isn't perfect.

Dad didn't want kids. When my Mom became pregnant with me, he wasn't thrilled. He isolated her and kept her from medical treatment. She got very ill. A neighbor found Mom collapsed in the yard and got her help. Once it became apparent that even ill, Mom was going to remain pregnant, Dad decided that was OK, as long as it was a boy. I was born with the wrong body parts and I paid for it my whole childhood.

Most of my childhood memories of my Dad revolve around punishment. To this day, I struggle to feel I'm good enough, because I was never considered good enough when I was little. My bedroom had to be spotless. After cleaning my room, my Dad would inspect it. If anything was wrong, I paid for it. Something out of place or a gum wrapper that missed the garbage warranted a beating on a bare behind with a leather belt, along with being grounded to my room for 2 weeks. I could only come out to eat, use the bathroom, or go to school. I couldn't talk out my window to the neighbor kids, I couldn't watch TV, and I couldn't use the phone. If I objected to the punishment or took too long to go to the bathroom and return to my room, I'd get another beating and sometimes got locked in my closet for a couple of hours to help me learn to be where I'm supposed to be. 

I was shy as a kid and didn't like to talk to people I didn't know. I could talk to people when I had something to talk about, but found small talk to feel awkward. Dad took this behavior as being rude and if it embarrassed him, I'd get another beating. Sometimes around people I knew, I'd get excited and talk too much. Thoughts would race so fast and fly out my mouth. That was just as bad as not talking at all and also worthy of a beating. It was important to my Dad that I learn to speak well, in a proper manner at a proper time. It became even more important to me.

I didn't like certain foods as a kid. Macaroni and cheese, liver and onions, and Brussel sprouts were the worst. I didn't like the taste, smell, or texture of these foods. My Dad believed you eat what's on your plate and you better be grateful for it. I remember trying to eat these foods and gagging on them. I'd have to sit at the table for an hour or two after everyone was done eating until I ate that cold, nasty food. If I didn't manage to eat it, I'd get it with the belt again and my plate went in the fridge and would be served cold to me the next meal. This would be repeated until I ate it.

I couldn't stand sox and shoes. Once I took them off in church and somebody laughed. My Dad was so mad at me, he didn't even wait until we got home. I got my beating in the back seat of the Chevy in the church parking lot. He didn't like me crying and on the way home told me to shut up or he'd pull over and give me another licking. I learned to cry without making a sound. I'm still good at that skill.

Sometimes I just had to move. I liked to rock. I'd rock my body while sitting in a chair. Sometimes, my hands would just randomly flop or flap. Sometimes I talked too much with my hands. The rocking and flapping my Dad found socially unacceptable and irritating. I got warned to not do that and if I did, you know by now what happened next. I wonder how many belts he wore out on my behind? Due to the talking with my hands and too many glasses of milk going flying at the dinner table, I was banned from talking during meals and wasn't allowed a drink until we were done eating. Sometimes my Dad would make me sit on my hands for hours to teach me that hands are not for flopping, flapping, and waving about.

There are many more examples I could give, but I think that's enough personal details to paint the picture of what life was like for the unwanted daughter of my dad. Now imagine that was you. Do you think it might have had an effect on your mental health?

My Grandpa C was the exact opposite of my Dad. I was his favorite of all the grands and he didn't care who knew it. His eyes glowed every time he looked at me. The best days of my childhood is when my brother and I went to spend a couple of weeks at the farm with my Grandparents. No Dad meant no beatings. I rode on the tractor with my Grandpa and I helped in the barn. I spent time with the animals. We did lots of fishing and hunting together. In my eyes, he was one of the most amazing people on earth.

My Grandpa smoked heavily. The first cigarette I ever smoked was taken from my Grandpa's pack of smokes. I was 10 and smoked it behind the barn with a couple of kids from the neighboring farm. I know we coughed, but I don't remember that 1st cigarette being awful. I remember it making me feel closer to my Grandpa. After being so imperfect in Dad's eyes, it felt good to be like someone who was perfect in my eyes and smoking like Grandpa smoked made me feel like I was more like him.

I became a person who smokes with that very first cigarette. I took many cigarettes from my Grandparents, parents, aunts, and uncles. Back then, if the store clerks knew your parents and knew you, you could ride your bike to the store and pick up smokes for them. At 10, I was already babysitting the neighbor kids and had money, so I'd go to the store and ask for a pack for my Mom or Dad and buy my own smokes.

There was something very strange about smoking. I felt better when I smoked. It brought me a calmness, a slowing of my racing mind. I liked how I felt after having a cigarette.

The trauma I experienced as a child continued on into adult hood. I was raped when I was 19. I ended up in an abusive relationship and had to flee my home and move to another town in 1980. My boyfriend beat me in the stomach with a dining room chair and I miscarried. I was 5 months pregnant. I went to my Grandparents, who had retired to the family cabin. I remained hidden there for several months, not telling any of my friends back home where I went or why. I had to start my life over. I never moved back to the land of so many kinds of abuse, and feel safer up here living my rural life in the woods. Bears and coyotes are nothing compared to the danger of angry men.

I smoked from 1969 until 2015. Over the years, I tried to quit smoking several times. I joke that I became a professional at failing to quit smoking. The joking was to hide the embarrassment over failing to quit, over not being perfect, of not being good enough to achieve this one small task.

In 2014 I tried vapor products to use when I couldn't smoke. Four months later, in 2015, I suddenly realized I had quit smoking. I haven't smoked since. I continue to vape and there are some of you out there who continue to judge me for my intake of nicotine.

I tried to stop using nicotine in 2020. That was probably not a good idea in the midst of isolation due to COVID. I ended up depressed and I ended up needing help. That help led to a diagnosis of Late Life Depression, ADD/ADHD and Autism. My therapist wanted me to see someone about medications. I didn't like some of the options. I have a tendency to be very sensitive to medications and often find side effects worse than what the meds are supposed to treat. I talked to my therapist about nicotine. She wasn't too excited about that option and wanted me to stop vaping because she felt it would be making my problems worse, not helping me.

I sent her the links to several studies and via my computer, we watched the film "You Don't Know Nicotine" together. She was shocked. She agrees that I am probably one of the people who are helped on a therapeutic level with nicotine. She now supports my using nicotine for my mental health, as long as I use a delivery method that doesn't involve smoking tobacco.

I'm telling the world much more than I wanted them to know, but I think that people in tobacco control need to stop and think about what they're doing. Stop calling people like me "smokers". We are people. We have feelings, hopes, and dreams just like you do. Stop calling us "addicts". Even those of us who are dependent on nicotine don't deserve your stigmatization. We deserve your compassion.

If you really care about us, and you want to end the death and disease from smoking, you need to stop talking at us. You need to listen to us. Ask some questions, show you care. I don't need anyone else judging me. My Dad did enough of that and now that he's not in my life, I do it daily to myself. Help people like me to finally feel like we're good enough.

How do you do that? Do something about what causes people to smoke in the first place. Do something about poverty, child abuse, sexual abuse, verbal abuse. Do something about the poor mental health services in this country. Do something about discrimination and stigmatization. Do something about our schools with low academic achievement and the bigger populations of high risk youth. Volunteer with kids, be a mentor and a positive influence in their lives.

You can waste your time fighting for taxes, bans and restrictions all you want. There may be less people who smoke from those efforts, but the problem isn't going to go away until we kill the root. The root is the social ills that makes a person seek something to make them feel better, who feel their only option is to smoke. The world is full of people not realizing they are self medicating.

The next time you meet someone who smokes, remember, they are a person. Show you care, ask to hear their story, ask what you can do to help. Support them when they are ready to quit, and please, no judgements on how they quit. How doesn't matter, success is what will save their life. You don't need to fear the nicotine. Nicotine helps people like me. All we need to fear is the smoke.

I am tired of feeling like I'm not good enough. I'm tired of feeling like I'm broken or damaged. I'm tired of having to fight to be able to use something that's safer than smoking and keeps me from going back to smoking. I'm tired of being judged. 

I'm ready to be told I'm a welcomed member of society. 

I'm ready to feel accepted and that I belong.

I'm ready to hear I'm good enough. 

I'm trying to believe I'm not worthless and to give myself credit for being a survivor.

I'm ready to meet other people who smoke on their turf and help them quit on their terms. 

Are you ready to go on this journey with me?

We are people. We don't need to be controlled. There's something wrong with the whole effort when it's called "tobacco control". We have a voice, give us your ear and listen. Work with us. We could save so many lives if we'd just give people a better life, a promising future, options and a voice. Let's close the rule books and the play books. Let's open our minds and hearts. It's time to roll up our sleeves and do great things together. It's time to stop the stigma and end the war between you and people who smoke or used to smoke.

Sincerely,

A seeker of reason, compassion, and co-operation.

Sometimes the road can get a bit rough

 

A few days ago, I had a really bad day. I don't know if what I was going through has a name, so I'm calling it a brain storm. I described it to someone that it was like a machine gun in my head. The bullets were bad thoughts and emotions. FEAR, ANGER, SADNESS. It was like someone was pulling the trigger and wouldn't let go. Bam, Bam, Bam, Bam, it was an endless assault. When my head got too full it started coming out of my eyes. I couldn't stop crying. I shed tears for hours. I'd sort of calm and then it would start all over again. I was a hot mess. 

I felt out of control. I went through episodes of my heart pounding, my hands shaking, and breaking out in a sweat. I'd start feeling short of breath and dizzy. I tried to relax and it would get a little better and then BOOM another wave of it came over me. This went on for several hours. I felt very needy. I was alone and didn't want to be.

I've never experienced this before and I hope I never do again. It was unpleasant and overwhelming. I'm starting to think this might have been stress related. The day before had been a long, hard day, because my husband had issues with his COPD. He struggled to breathe all day. I left work and went home to be with him because he started to panic and it made his breathing worse. I spent the day trying not to look or act worried so he'd relax. It isn't fun to watch someone you love struggle to breathe! While this was going on, my adult son (who has an "unspecified social disorder" which is now believed to be autism) had a meltdown. His girlfriend had never experienced one of those and so, I was on the phone helping them through that. My son, who's already had 2 heart attacks started having chest pains in the middle of everything going on...

The good news is my son wasn't having a heart attack, his meltdown ended, and by evening my husband was breathing better. We had survived another day of health issues, many smoking related. We're a family of people who used to smoke. 

The health issues of my loved ones is nothing new. We've dealt with them for years. I don't know if them happening on the same day was the trigger for my bad day, but I'm starting to think it was. The only thing that was different that day is that once I went home in the morning, I didn't vape again until I left home the next day, the day I woke up with the storm already raging in my head. 

As I tried to work through my bad day, I vaped constantly. I found it helpful to try to verbalize to a couple of people that I wasn't OK (Thanks Charles and Cami!) which was like opening a faucet and just letting the ick pour out. Later that day a switch flipped and suddenly all the weird thoughts and feeling were gone. The storm was over.

Maybe the depression I've battled this past year made me more prone to the brain storm. Maybe I self medicate with nicotine more than I thought. Maybe my autism put me in some kind of weird sensory overload. I don't know. What ever was going on that day, I'm grateful I've reached a point in my life where I finally feel safe to tell people I'm not OK. I hope that part of this sinks in for you, it's OK to tell someone you're not OK. Don't be afraid.

Those of you who are accepting and safe to talk to are a life line to people like me. Thank-you for being there.

Photo from: Celebrating neurodiversity

P.S. Many years ago, I was really good at being young and stupid. I liked to party and I did too much of it. How I came out of my youth and escaped becoming addicted to alcohol or drugs is beyond me. One day, I just decided not to do those things and walked away from them. Didn't touch either for over 20 years. Now, I might drink 1 or 2 beers a year, and that's enough for me. 

Smoking cigarettes are a different story. It was a struggle for many years to stop smoking. I tried every method known to man. I became a professional at failing to quit smoking. I finally quit trying to quit. When I started vaping in 2014 it was because I could do it in places that I couldn't smoke. 4 months later, I realized I had accidently quit smoking. I remain smoke free to this day.

But, I miss smoking and there are still times in my life where I want to smoke. Stressful and emotional times are the worst for having an urge to smoke. It amazes me that when I had that really bad day, it never once crossed my mind to have a cigarette! 6 years smoke free, and the first time I had a bad day and didn't want a smoke! 

Many think that people who vape to quit smoking should also strive to quit vaping. For people who want to do that, I fully support that goal. I think people like me have a need for the nicotine, both in their brains and to prevent relapse to smoking. I wish more people would understand and support that. I function better with nicotine in my system. I also function better with coffee in my system. 

Some people have a glass of wine or a beer everyday, and society doesn't have an issue with people using that drug of choice. I hope someday, society will also accept the use of safer forms of nicotine. People like me could use the world judging us on one less thing. 

River of Tears

February is Heart Month

One family’s heartbreaking story about smoking

I started my Valentine's Day with a moment of silence. A quiet reflection about the 1,300 families who will be crying tears of sorrow today as they lose a loved one to death by smoking. This happens every day in America, the need to plan 1300 more funerals. A heartbreaking reality on Valentine's Day.

Twice, I've cried tears of fear followed by tears of gratitude when the Grim Reaper could have taken my son, but passed him by. 

Behind the sunglasses is my son when he was 14. He's in his Jr. Dragster participating in a youth racing program. He's practicing harm reduction by wearing sunglasses, helmet, neck brace, fire suit, and arm restraints. He's tucked safely in a roll cage, with a quick release steering wheel, and a strong chromoly chassis.

When he was 18, he made the deadly choice to start smoking. He now has heart disease and will be on medications for the rest of his life. 

He had his first heart attack when he was 29. He's had 2 heart attacks in his young life and has 3 stents in his heart. I watched in horror as he coded right in front of me in the ER. The doctor said if he continued to smoke, he would die. When he couldn't quit smoking, he tried vapor products and quit smoking in a few days!  

Vaping is not smoking. It's a form of harm reduction. 

It is safer than smoking. If my son had vaped instead of smoked, his little girl, Jessica, wouldn't have experienced the trauma she's gone through. 

Jessica is grateful to still have a Daddy. It was terrifying for a 5 year old to watch her Dad have a heart attack. Her tear stained face as she waved to the helicopter flying over us with her Daddy in it was a heartbreaking sight I will never forget. 

"Good-bye Daddy, I love you" she sobbed. "Please don't die. Please come home". 

A five year old should have days full of giggles. A life stuffed with more hugs than she can count. She should be surrounded with books that sets her imagination free. This little sweetheart shouldn't have any worries bigger than needing to decide what color popsicle to have on a warm summer's day. Her greatest concern should have been if she was going to dress up as a princess or an astronaut today.

But this little girl had to learn that parents can die. She had to learn what a bottle of nitro pills are and where they're kept. She had to learn how to stuff one in her Daddy's mouth if she was home alone with him and he was in trouble. A little girl had to learn how to save a grownup's life!

In most families, a parent will get up during the night to check on a sleeping child. After her Daddy's heart attack, this little girl would get up in the middle of the night and check on her Dad. She was caught blowing him kisses in the dark, with a tear running down her cheek. 

Sometimes, life just isn't fair. Jessica will live with the fear of finding her Dad on the floor having another heart attack. My heart pounds every time my phone rings, afraid my son is having more heart problems.

We have a war going on in this country over vaping products. There are some that would like to ban the flavors that help people like this little girl's Dad stop smoking. Some would like to tax them until low income people (the largest group of folks who smoke) can't afford them. After facing losing my son not once, but twice, I struggle to comprehend why anyone with a heart would try to eliminate this life saving technology.

The issue at hand? Kids will be kids. No matter what we do, what we tell them, and how many laws we pass, some kids are going to experiment or rebel. Even good kids will make the choice to break the law and try things they aren't supposed to try. Some like the thrill of rule breaking or risk taking, believing nothing bad will happen to them. 

Some kids will continue that behavior of risk taking into adulthood. If you do things like drive over the speed limit or use your cell phone while driving, you have not yet grown out of that risk taking / rule breaking cycle of life.

When teenagers use vapor products, we as a society have failed. We've failed to teach them to make good choices. We've failed to convince them to choose right over wrong. We've failed to enforce our laws which make it illegal to sell or give these products to anyone under the age of 21. If we are already failing at enforcement, will more laws solve the problem? Will it prevent a black market where people sell to others and don't care about their age and don't care about the quality of what they're selling?

I understand the instinct to protect our youth. 

Before you make a decision to ban flavored products or tax vapor technology to try to stop the youth who are breaking the law, I want you to look into the eyes of this little girl who has a Dad that no longer smokes. 

This little girl didn't break any laws. What are we going to do for her?

Does she deserve protection from a childhood without a parent? 

Does she deserve to grow up in a smoke free home?

Does she deserve a Dad to kiss her boo-boo's, hug her when a boy breaks her heart, and ground her when she makes a bad choice?

When you ban and tax the things that help smoking parents stop smoking, you're telling little angels like this one that her life and her family aren't important. 

I think it's time to get back on track with our original mission. Do everything we can to end the death and disease caused by smoking. We can start by enforcing the laws we already have. We can make progress faster by leaving life saving technology readily available to our smoking adults. Let's fill our nation with healthy, smoke-free parents and grandparents ready to play hide and seek with little girls.

My granddaughter, Jessica, and I are asking you to not ban flavored vaping products or increase the taxes on these products. She doesn't want to risk her Dad going back to smoking. She has her heart set on him still being here when she graduates from school, when she falls in love and gets married, and when she blesses him with his first grandchild. I have my heart set on never having to plan my son's funeral because he went back to smoking.

You have the power to help make that happen.

#HeartMonth2021

Labels

Labels, Labels, and More Labels

Today I woke with my brain full of words. Thoughts were flowing at a flood stage. I think I’ll need to open a gate or 2 and let some of them out if I have any hope of accomplishing what I’d like to get done today.

Today, I'm pushing myself past my comfort zone. I'm pretty nervous. I am afraid of being judged or being looked at differently. But I'm going to take the risk and do this anyway because the world is hurting and part of that hurt is because we see too many negative, stigmatizing labels and we forget to see that we're people, not labels. This is a practice what I preach moment... so I'm taking a deep breath and here I go!

Life is stuffed full of labels. Much of my life has been spent advocating for the labeled. I hate labels. I’ve always looked at them from the point of how they stigmatize people. How they erase the person and slap a barrier up that blocks the world from seeing the amazing person behind that label. I've only thought of labels as a negative thing and didn't give a thought that we can have positive labels.

I am often good at spotting what a person’s label might be and trying to adapt how I do things to assist that person with the tools they need to live their life as well as they can. Many times I have shocked parents with the suggestion to have their child evaluated for certain things and when they did, they found my suspicions were true (most often autism). I always thought I was able to identify these challenges that children might be facing because I've been around people with those challenges and have learned the "warning signs". I never gave thought it might be more intuitive than that.

Before I move forward to the point about labels, I have to step back and tell you the story behind this story...

I’m someone who is usually stuffed full of hope. The past couple of years has found that hope slipping away. I landed in a very dark place. It’s possible that COVID accelerated the process. I like people, so all this distancing stuff isolates me. I’m a toucher and a hugger. That all stopped with COVID. 

The problem was, I was working so hard to be a beacon of light for others that I didn’t see the darkness that was seeking to take my soul from me. Last summer, an amazing group of people made the trip to my neighborhood to show me the results of a project they had worked on for a couple of years. It turned into an amazing day! 

It was a day filled with hugs, hugs, and more hugs. OMG, I was starving for hugs! We talked, laughed, cried, and ate good food. It was super hot out, the bugs were everywhere, and it tried to rain on us a few times. It couldn’t put an end to our day, a day of sharing. At sunset, we settled down to a drive-in-style movie we watched on a giant inflatable screen.

By the end of the film, my eyes became their own river and the tears flowed. I was so moved! The film was awesome. The message was liberating. The honesty was overwhelming. I knew I’d have to watch that movie a couple of more times to wrap my head around all that was in it.

But, a strange thing happened. I suddenly realized that I had no sense of my own value to the world. What made me aware of that? The credits at the end of the film. There is a list of “Thank-yous” and there it was… MY NAME! In print, for the world to see, someone valued what I had given them enough to put it up on the big screen, to be seen forever. Discovering you have value is a life-changing experience.

"Valued" would later become a label for me.

A repeat viewing of the film would give even more meaning to my story when I noticed my Mom’s name in the “In Memory” section in the credits of the film. To see her battles against her labels honored in such a meaningful way, giving further value to my need to help make the world a better place.

It was bittersweet to have to say goodbye to my friends, as they headed out to continue their journey to do their part to make the world a better place. I enjoyed a bit of self-pity, feeling sad knowing they live far away, and it could be a long time before we all see each other again. That stage of self-pity made me realize that a cloud of darkness had surrounded my heart. 

OK, back to the main topic: Labels...

It was time to talk to a professional. And then another. Finally, #3 was the perfect match for me. My involvement with this person has been liberating and I look forward to our sessions. Well, most of the time. Along with talking and working through the feelings and peeling away the darkness comes testing.

And then it was here. The full report. Black and white. The handing out of the labels I didn’t know I had. UGH! It’s like going through a grieving process! Denial, anger, and finally acceptance. I had labels. Ones I never saw in myself, even though I can see them in others.

It took my breath away. I didn’t tell a soul. 

A few days ago, I got brave enough to tell Matthew M. A couple of days after that, I told Aaron B. Why them? Because they are brave, accepting, and giving. Both of them get up every day and fight to make the world better. No matter what’s going on in their minds or bodies, they are warriors of goodness. They don’t live their lives by any negative labels, they manage their time and their energy to get done what they can get done every day.

Depression, ADD (the heart of my staying on-track issues, now called ADHD), and HFA (High Functioning Autism it used to be called Asperger's - the beginnings of my fitting in issues). The last one has been the hardest to accept. All of a sudden, the queen of label haters could see nothing but her new labels. (Update: Months later PTSD was added to the list)

And then came the revelation that I’m a river. There are many stones sticking out of my river and each one affects the flow of who I am. Sure, there’s a stone that’s Depression and another that’s ADD (well, ADD is like having a really big stone), and the stone that’s Autism's. It took me a few days to realize that my river also has many beautiful stones rising to glisten in the sunlight.

Finally seeing the river made me realize we all have labels. Many of them we are born with. They are a part of what makes us uniquely our own being, with no carbon copy anywhere. Each label is not WHO we are, they're just a stone that lays the foundation of the complete person.

So, I will add these new labels to the many labels I already have and never thought of as a label. Some of our labels are not a challenge, some are a gift. I am not only ADHD, Autism, PTSD, and Depression, I am kind, giving, big-hearted, funny, optimistic, enthusiastic, inquisitive, valued, loving, caring, strong, hopeful, fiercely loyal, a fighter for what is right, and of late - brave. I’m going to choose to move forward and not live by the "negative" labels. I’ll be aware of what they are and start using tools that will make the labels that cause challenges be less challenging, but I’m not going to focus on them.

I am me, I’ve always been me. I am what I was created to be. My identity comes from my heart and soul, not a collection of words on a piece of paper. Labels be damned, I am ready to greet another day.

From one Momvocate to another. 

I wish we could do lunch and talk.

The world is full of concerned Moms. It's in our job description and many of us take that job very seriously. I've seen some of you on the news, watched you at Congressional hearings, have heard you testify before city council's, and have seen your social media posts. I watched the movie You Don't Know Nicotine and it taught me that there are 2 sides to every story. I learned a lot about your concerns from watching it. I could see the concern in your eyes and hear it in your voices. I know in the end we all want the same thing. We want our kids to be safe, healthy, and making good choices. We fear for their well being, their health, and even their lives. 

I'd like to share with you my story and why I'm a Momvocate. While many of you have stories about your kids that begin with vaping, my story starts with smoking and ends with vaping. I hope by the sharing of concerns and our stories we can find common ground to adress the issues that concern all of us.

 I come from a long line of people who smoke. My Dad smoked, was a veteran, and struggled with parenting skills. He didn't understand the line between discipline and abuse. It was a line that was crossed often. He didn't want a daughter and was not pleased with my birth. It was a blessing the day Mom kicked him out and the beatings stopped.

Mom's side of the family had issues, too, where boys were God and girls were trash. Mom tried to do better. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes she failed. Learned behaviors are hard to unlearn. I grew up feeling unwanted and unworthy - 2 things I never want my child to feel.

My Grandpa (Mom's Dad) was my hero. In a world that I felt wasn't happy to have me here, I was his favorite. He made me feel special. I started smoking when I was 10. Not because I wanted to be cool and fit in, not because I wanted to be a rebel and break the rules. I started smoking because my Grandpa smoked and I loved and admired him so much, I was so grateful for his love and acceptance, I just wanted to be like him. 


Being a tomboy, I didn't really date much in high school. I was always one of the guys. I had a thing about not belonging to a "click", a tribe, a group. I became lonely and did things kids shouldn't do, like drink and experiment with drugs. I don't think that smoking led to those things, I think that poverty and abuse and family issues and loneliness made me higher risk to go down that path. I was a "smart" kid with good grades, while my brother struggled with school and his disabilities, so the family focus was on him. Growing up I didn't understand his needs and was jealous of the attention he got. That also gave fuel to my need to "act out" and do things kids aren't supposed to do. Looking back on my youth, I realize how loudly I was crying out in my own way to be noticed and accepted.

By the time I was done with high school, I was smoking up to 2 packs a day and continued to do so for over 40 years. I lost count years ago of all the times and ways I tried to quit smoking. It felt like I was a failure. The point of the story of my youth is that parents can do their best, and still have kids that experiment, make bad choices, act out, or seek relief from feelings a parent might not even know a kid has. Time to move on to adulthood.

As a young adult  I developed some health issues and was told I'd never be able to have a child. I have a bit of a defiant streak in me, and I told those doctors that I believed that when I quit messing up my life, settled in with a good man, God would give me 1 child. It would be a boy with blond hair, blue eyes, and freckles. 

In 1984 I met that man. In 1985 I gave birth to an amazing boy with blond hair, blue eyes, and later on - freckles! God gave me my miracle baby. We thought we were being good parents, but now I live everyday with the guilt that our miracle baby grew up breathing second hand smoke. What damage did we do to him, exposing him to that? Did this contribute to his learning disabilities, his seasonal affective disorder, or his unspecified social disorder (believed to be undiagnosed Asperger's Syndrome)? There's no science that says those things, but I think it's natural for a mother to blame herself. I'll get back to my son's health in a bit.

The amazing Mom I had as a kid went away as one traumatic experience after another finally got the best of her. As she aged, she was obviously mentally ill, but would not seek medical help, the paranoia would not allow her to trust doctors. Mom's smoking did a number to her health and she had COPD.  She then quit smoking. After she quit smoking, her mental illness rapidly got worse. She got so bad, so verbally abusive it started to have an effect on my own mental health and I did not have any communication with her for 4 years. 

Then mom's neighbors started calling expressing concern. I called my brother and he drove up here to check on her. She was gravely ill, very delirious, and agreed to let him take her to a doctor. The doctor told her she had heart failure and cancer, with very little time to live. They admitted her for the night to get her stabilized and get her signed up for hospice care.

I had a key to her home and went to take care of her dog. The condition of her home took my breath away. She had become a hoarder and her home was packed with stuff. Some rooms were so full, you could only take a couple of steps into the room. There were binoculars at every window, so she could watch out into the woods for the people her paranoia convinced her were coming to get her. 

It was evident that she had been too ill to care for herself or her home for a long time. There was no way the county was going to let her live out her life there in those conditions. Christmas Day we put out the call for help. A Christmas Miracle happened when a dozen of the most loving, amazing friends joined my son and I at my mother's home and cleaned up things I choose not to go into detail about, so that my Mom could come home to die.

I spent the last month of my Mother's life with her, caring for her as much as she would allow. She struggled to breathe, it was exhausting for her to get up and use the bathroom. I sat with her as I heard her last breath leave her body at 2:04 a.m.. Smoking had killed another one.

I went outside and had a cigarette.

July of 2014 in the wee hours of the morning, my phone rang. I could barely hear my 29 year old son as he said in agony "Mom, I think I'm having a heart attack". We almost lost him that day. It was the worst day of my life. He was airlifted to a different hospital. The hour drive to get to him was agonizing, as we had no way of knowing if he was dead or alive. Healthy guy, no blood pressure issues, no cholesterol problems, but the doctor said that smoking caused 3 clogged arteries in his heart. After putting 2 stents in his heart, his life was saved. 

He didn't start smoking until he was 18. It only took 11 years to do this damage to him. I hope I did a good job of parenting my son, but I don't think I will ever forgive myself for smoking around him and setting the example of smoking being OK. After his heart attack, he tried vaping and he quit smoking. The doctor told him if he started smoking again he would die. My son hasn't smoked since. His doctor encourages him to continue to vape to prevent relapse.

Our next scare was  the day my husband called me and said he couldn't breathe. My son and I rushed him to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with COPD. By now, I'm sure you can guess the cause - SMOKING. Now he's inhaler dependent and his quality of life sucks. It will get worse as he ages. He quit smoking after being diagnosed with COPD.

I continued to smoke. My teeth started falling out. Yes, that is a smoking related issue, too. With many years of no dental insurance, and a problem with letting people put fingers in my mouth due to PTSD, a side effect of being raped and what was done during the rape. I spend my time embarrassed to smile or speak in public, because people assume that a toothless person must be a meth head or something.

I have spent my adult life trying to quit smoking. I have tried everything. The only thing that worked for me was Chantix, but after being on it for 3 weeks, I became a danger to myself and my doctor took it away from me. November of 2014 I tried vaping and I dual used for a few months before I accidentally quit smoking. I didn't try to quit, I was just vaping in places I couldn't smoke and ended up transitioning to just vaping. I have been smoke-free ever since.

I'm proud to say that my step-grandson has also quit smoking thanks to vaping, and my great grand kids are now the first generation growing up in a smoke free home. My whole family is now smoke-free! Vaping has changed the lives of 4 generations!

My husband has been confined to our home since fall of last year, because of a big influenza outbreak followed by the COVID pandemic . He sits out there in our rural home with no contact with anyone besides my son and myself. Our granddaughter has not been to our home in months. He is very high risk of dying if he gets influenza or COVID-19. COPD is an ugly price to pay for smoking.

July of this year was 6 years since my son had his heart attack. 2 days after that anniversary, his girlfriend called me and told me I needed to come get him as he's sure he's having another heart attack. I rushed to his side and drove him to the ER. They met him at the door and rushed him back. I parked the car and they told me I needed to go in the back right away. I was only in his room a couple of minutes when he coded and they told me to go to the hallway. I stood out in that hallway calling out to him the whole time, hoping he'd hear my voice and not slip away from us forever. They saved him, rushed him to surgery, where he coded again. They placed another stent in his heart. This is when we learned that his smoking when he was a young adult gave him heart disease. He will be on medications for the rest of his life and will always be at risk for another heart attack.

Every time my phone rings, fear grips my heart. The first thought that crosses my mind is did he have another heart attack and if he did, did it kill him this time? As a mom, I know you know how frightening this can be.

As many of you fear your children using vapor products, I wish with a broken heart that my son, my husband, and my mom would have never started smoking and would have had the option to vape instead. I wish we would have known that one of the reasons mom's mental illness might have gotten so much worse was because she quit smoking and we would have offered her an alternative source of nicotine to ease some of her suffering and the heartbreak we all experienced watching her deteriorate. 

I learned to be a Momvocate from my Mom. From birth her life threw her one hard knock after another. She never gave up. She never quit fighting for what she believed was right. She was generous and giving. She was a kind lady outside of the behaviors her mental illness caused later in her life.  I cherish the memory of my mom, Margaret Place. It's a horrible legacy to know that she died twice.  The first time when the mental illness took away all the goodness in her and replaced her with an angry, paranoid person who could no longer trust anyone. The second time was from the COPD, Heart Disease, and Cancer - a death I refer to as "death by smoking". I hope none of our kids have to witness their mom dying twice.

I am hopeful that the movie You Don't Know Nicotine will teach more of us that there are 2 sides to every story. I hope the movie will motivate Momvocates from all sides to sit down and talk about the issues that are worrisome to us. I hope we can find ways to help youth make better choices, help society do a better job of enforcing the law, and continue to leave life saving technology on the market for those who need those products. I hope we can get away from stigmatizing people and substances, to leave a better future for all.  

Thank-you for sharing your stories. I hope my story will give you a perspective as to why moms like me fight so hard to save what moms like you are fighting against. My dream is that someday it will be hard to find a Mom with a story like mine. I'm guessing that some of you also have a dream of someday a Mom not having a story like yours. I'd give anything for us to find a way to sit down and talk about how to protect kids like yours AND protect kids like mine. It just doesn't seem right for concerned moms to be at odds with each other, when we could accomplish so much more if we found a way to work together.

My Way or the Highway

If a person has cancer, we do our best to do everything in our power to help them get rid of it. We try as many different kids of treatments, medications, and surgeries as necessary to get the job done. If we can't cure it, we do everything we can to extend their life, keep them comfortable, and provide them with the best quality of life that medicine, faith, and support by loved ones can provide. As science and technology progress, we will be able to do even more for victims of cancer.

When a child is born with a disability, we do everything we can to help them overcome it. If it's something they will live with forever, we do our best to provide them with a productive and meaningful life by giving them the tools and support they need to live up to their full potential. We make accommodations so they can be valued members of our communities. As science and technology progress, we will be able to do even more for people with disabilities.

If a person becomes addicted to drugs, we try to help them. We have treatment programs and support programs. If the person struggles to remain drug free, we have medical interventions that can help some people move past their addiction and return to a fully productive life with their families, friends, and as members of society. As science and technology progress, we will be able to do even more for people battling drug addiction.

As the automotive industry grew, cars were able to go farther and faster. Accidents caused injury and even death. We've enacted laws requiring our vehicles to have built in safety features. These help reduce fatalities and injuries. We've also enacted "rules of the road", things like speed limits to further reduce the dangers of being in a car. As science and technology progress, we will be able to add even more safety features into our vehicles and save more lives. 

Such is the way of modern man. We identify a problem and we work towards solutions, and if a solution doesn't work for everyone, we look to science and technology to find even more and better solutions.

Or at least we do until we talk about people who smoke. It used to be we didn't think it was dangerous. Then we learned different. We did what man does best, we went on the hunt for solutions for smokers. We offered them ways to quit. We started therapies, support groups, we invented nicotine replacement therapies and medicines all to help smokers. For some smokers, these options helped them quit this deadly habit. Some smokers weren't able to quit. 

This should be the part where we say as science and technology progress, we will find more and better ways to help people quit smoking. But we refuse to accept science and technology when it comes to people who smoke. Smokers found a technology that helps them quit. They invented a device and over the years they have improved the device. Why isn't society embracing this new technology that doesn't cost tax payers any money and improves the health of their loved ones, by helping them quit smoking?

When do we tell a cancer patient "get cured my way or die"? We don't and we wouldn't. Nor do we tell an alcoholic "get sober my way or die". We don't tell someone with a disability to deal with it locked in a closet with no adaptations to help them succeed. We will never go back to cars with no air bags or seat belts to reduce the potential harm of going from A to B.

Why does this country think it's OK to tell a person who smokes "quit my way or die"? Shouldn't we be cheering for every smoker to kick the habit in what ever way works best for them? Do we really care if they quit cold turkey, use a quit line, chew gum, take a pill, or use vapor technology to quit smoking?

People in white coats in labs invent amazing things, but it is not possible for them to find the cure for everything that ails mankind. Sometimes what's needed most is the people fighting the battle to figure out what works best for them and invent their own cure. 

Many people who smoke have found their cure in a little battery operated device that is 95% safer than smoking. That little device can help millions of more people quit smoking, if we stop our current path and don't regulate the product out of existence.

It's time to focus on the smokers. Let them quit smoking in peace. My way or the highway shouldn't be the message we send them.