Journal of a caged man

TW: swearing and sexual innuendo

Day One

I've decided to keep a journal of my experience using a cage around my head to give up smoking. An unconventional approach, yes. Necessary? Yes.

I want to quit "cold turkey," so I'm going to do it. No nicotine patches. Got my girlfriend to throw all my smokes and lighters in the bin and gave her the key to the cage.

"Only open this door here," I had indicated to a small door by my mouth, big enough to get food into,

"When it's mealtimes," I instructed her.

I expected her to be overjoyed, given the power of my key. She's the one that's always hated my smoking since the day we met five years ago.

She had seen me smoking outside the club and actually asked for a drag.

As I am writing this, I'm at the end of day one with the cage.

I have taken annual leave for this week, obviously, even though I work at a desk. I can't exactly wear my cage to work. My co-workers will think I've lost the plot.

Plus, the withdrawals. A few times today I've gone to reach for my smokes without even thinking about it.

I feel jittery. I can't sit still.

I get into the kitchen and start to re-organise the pantry.

I thought Samantha would be thrilled.

She's still hung up on my insistence we both take the week off.

I stood my ground about her having the key and supporting me with this. She's been saying she wants to spend more time together. I couldn't foresee how this couldn’t be mutually beneficial.

We were sitting together to watch TV this afternoon. When I suddenly I can't stop coughing. At one point I became so overwhelmed and panicked because I couldn't get myself a drink.

"Sam," I gasped out. "Water!"

I expected her to be concerned, race to me, comfort me, unlock my cage, and help me have some water.

She simply sighed, rolled her eyes, and dragged herself to the kitchen, muttering something incoherent about the bloody cage.

She wants me to quit. This is for her as well.

It's time to remove the cage to sleep. I trust myself to stay strong through the night. Just to be sure, I've also asked Sam to lock our bedroom door and keep that key.

Begrudgingly, she did agree.

Day Two

I didn't sleep so well last night. Sam went to sleep so quickly. I was excited to discuss my progress with quitting. I don't understand why she's not as invested in this.

I said to her today, "Wouldn't you like to try and kiss me without me tasting like smokes?"

I playfully stroked her arm.

"Don't be ridiculous," she retorted. "How the hell am I even going to do that with a fucking cage around your head?!"

She was so explosive. I did feel angry then. I pushed it down though in that moment, pretended not to be. Went with humour, try and make her laugh to break the tension.

"Other parts of me aren't in a cage," I quipped.

"You've got to be joking me," she had glared at me, finished getting ready for the gym, and grabbed her keys.

She said she'd be out for an hour and that "I should be more than OK until she got home in terms of food and water."

After she left though I did feel somewhat uneasy, this impending doom in my stomach. So uncomfortable in my own skin. The cage was starting to feel heavier on my shoulders.

Just one week, I coaxed myself. Then this will all be over. I'll be cage-free and a non-smoker.

While Sam was gone, I decided to throw on some TV for background noise. Jot down some ideas for stories I wanted to write. I couldn't sit with anything for too long, I just couldn't stop tapping my leg.

The moment she drove off, my mouth got incredibly dry, and my throat was so irritated.

The hour she was gone dragged by. I tried to do some breathing, so I didn't panic.

When Sam’s car pulled in, I shot up so quickly and raced to the door and when she immediately saw me there, she stumbled back in surprise.

"Sam..." I gasped. "Water."

Again, she looked pissed off. Why was she pissed off? I was the one in a bloody cage. I was the one giving up smokes. Why was she being so cold?

She wordlessly unlocked the cage and did give me water.

I just about drained the full bottle. I did check her face for any emotion like, concern some care. She had looked away, eyebrows raised. It broke me, hit me harder than anything ever has. I shouted.

"Would you rather the smokes!"

She started to cry, she did go to say something. I wish she had said what it was she wanted to say. Instead, she slightly shook her head. I took it to mean she's ok, she must get it.

"Should we watch a movie?" I suggested quietly.

She agreed, I must say during the movie I do get lost in the story, I do forget about the smokes, and I do forget about the cage and as she rested her head in my lap, I did lose myself to the movie and her warm presence.

Sam always has a way of making things feel less heavy when she isn't pissed off with me. Maybe she has PMS.

Day Three

Sam seemed brighter today. Again, I didn’t sleep well, so I tried to remind myself I had the day off if I needed a nap or to make a plan with Sam on how we could work with releasing the cage and locking me in the room.

I almost wanted to check if she had got her period. She normally announced it. She didn't. I still don't really know what her mood was about. Not uncommon for her, though.

She was definitely slightly warmer toward me today, still kind of quiet and still a bit withdrawn. I didn't chase intimacy last night. I assumed it was that time of the month. We both just went to sleep.

Well, she did. I tossed and turned, rubbed at the slightly red mark the cage was leaving.

A million thoughts on my mind. When I'd come back to my body to breathe, it felt jittery. I dreamed about smoking. Craved one. This wasn't my first attempt to quit.

What caught me out every time was losing control, going out, getting more, and just doing it. Then immediately regretting it.

Then I would tell myself, “Well, you've paid for them now. Finish this pack anyway.”

Then, once the packet was done, I forgot about those promises and was back to it.

Sometimes I wouldn't feel OK to confess to Sam straight away. I'd feel stupid. I'd told her so many times how much I wanted to quit, how I'd do it for her and me. Save us money. Look after myself. Get rid of the disgusting smell and taste she always retorted about.

When I wouldn't say anything. She’d soon smell them on me.

The first time she was confused.

"I thought you wanted to quit?" she'd asked.

"I did," I looked down, afraid to see the judgment in her eyes.

"Then just don't buy them, then!" She shook her head and walked out.

If only it was that easy, I don't understand why I can't just stop myself buying them.

The next few times I failed with quitting I didn’t say anything to Sam. I would sneak them outside, rinse my mouth out and spray myself with cologne.

She would eventually smell them on me anyway.

"Why wouldn't you just say?" she'd plead.

I always looked away from her when she'd ask that. I didn't even know. I was embarrassed, I guess.

These memories plagued me instead of sleep.

Before she left for the gym today, I was sitting on the couch, and Sam checked in with me.

"Do you need anything before I go, love? Food? Water?"

I did feel a little hungry when she had asked. I didn't want to trouble her too much. What if she got annoyed again? I could wait an hour for something to eat.

The hour dragged. And not just an hour today—an hour and a half. I was so fucking hungry waiting for her.

I paced around. Looked through the pantry and the fridge. Tried to find something I could poke through the cage. The thought of anything "cage-worthy" annoyed me. I didn't want to eat a carrot. I needed something substantial.

Again, Sam looked surprised when she walked through the door and nearly stumbled into me.

"You're late," I told her.

She blinked in surprise. "I sent you a message. You said you were, OK?"

I gave her the hour, then I messaged her. Waited. She didn't answer. I called—straight to voicemail.

She looked at her phone.

"Oh. Oops, it was in flight mode," she was red when she looks up at me.

"I'm so hungry," I had reminded her, she forgot again. I was feeling frantic.

"She placed her things down and headed into the kitchen. Again, she forgot to unlock the cage. Ok, yes, I was a bit of a brat, I raised my voice again.

"The CAGE."

She gave me a look then like she wanted to yell back. Instead, she pressed her lips together and unlocked the cage, refusing to look at me. i wish I pressed her, I was to overcome by hunger, like I'd never felt before.

I raced to the kitchen and grabbed all the carby foods I was drooling over while she was gone and man, they were amazing.

I noticed Sam, she watched me shook her head and whispered, "Unbelievable."

I feel a bit embarrassed about that; she hasn't quit smoking. She wouldn't understand.

Day Four

Sam fell asleep on the couch last night. She was watching her trashy TV shows, and I'd been set up on the computer before bed, trying and failing to work on my current fantasy book. I couldn't focus, I couldn't think clearly.

Finally giving up when it was going nowhere, I chose to go to bed early. Get the cage off my neck and rub some lotion on where it was getting sore.

I had a newfound compassion for the dog and decided I'd take her collar off for the night and rub her neck around where it had been all day. She looked extra cute collar-free, and I loudly declared this new insight to Sam. She was too focused on her show to take any notice.

I usually try to take hold of my emotions. Yeah, I do cry—just not a lot. This small rejection made me a bit weepy. I went to the kitchen to hide the fact.

I felt embarrassed that I would have to ask Sam for a tissue and she might notice I’d been crying. Although she hadn't noticed this troubling cough I’d developed, which was a lot louder than my tears. Which I thought would warrant some sympathy.

Stupid fucking cage. Today I had started to doubt the process. I'd never gone four days without the smokes since I started. That had to count for something. The cage was working.

I knew it wouldn't be easy. I guess I also underestimated how hard it would be. I hated not having control of this addiction. Also, no control of the cage. I was tempted to ask Sam to let me have control of the key. However, I just didn't trust myself.

I sniffed as best I could and let the tears dry on my face. I was almost there.

Day Five

I tossed and turned last night. I couldn't sleep, and I didn't like the tension that was building between Sam and me.

I thought this week, including her in my journey to quit the smokes, would bring us closer together. Something we could do together.

I knew today was the day we needed to clear the air. Maybe there was something she had expected that I just didn't know?

I called her to the couch. I didn't know where to start. I felt a bit ridiculous having a serious conversation with a cage around my head.

"Sam, are you OK?" I asked her.

She didn't answer me.

"It feels like something is up?" I pressed on, determined to get to the bottom of it.

"It's this fucking cage, Trent!" She had yelled; at the time I was confused.

I told her I was confused.

"Confused? Confused? You didn't even ask me if I wanted to be in charge of the key! Do you know how much responsibility that is?"

I was speechless, processing.

"You've made it my responsibility to help you get over the smokes! You've begged me countless times to go and buy them for you. Unlock you so you can go get your own." She had started to cry, and I felt like a shit.

I hadn't realized I'd been at her that much to do that plus half the time I was kind of half joking.

"I can't even kiss you whenever I want. As soon as I come home, you're at me for something to eat or drink!"

I was still processing her words; at the time no words would come to me.

"I'm too angry. This isn't a productive conversation anymore. I'm going for a fucking walk." She went to leave, I panic.

"Sam, wait," I called out and she paused her eyes hopeful.

"I, I'm ah a little thirsty?" was all I managed to get out.

"Unfucking believable,"

Then she threw the cage keys at me. Missing me, as I instinctively ducked.

She slammed the door on the way out.

When she finally got home, I was on the couch. Head cage beside me, absentmindedly rubbing my neck.

She goes to storm into the other room, muttering,

"I guess you had a smoke then."

She paused at the sound of my voice, calling her back.

"Sam, please. Come sit down."

I wasn't sure how to tell her this. I was very hyper-aware she would be able to smell me anyway.

Sure enough, as subtle as she tried to be, I saw her take a whiff.

"You didn't smoke," she looked surprised.

"I didn't smoke," I let myself cry, felt good to just let that out. I said to her,

"I just couldn't let you down again, Sam. I want to quit."

She held me and I felt such relief and so comfortable.

"I know you do, Trent," she whispered. "Let's try the cage."

I shook my head; I had made my decision.

"Can you trust me to try without?" I subconsciously rubbed the growing mark on my neck.

She smiled softly at me.

"Of course," she leaned in and softly kissed me.

I noticed there was zero taste of cigarettes left in my mouth. I wonder if she tasted the difference.

Day Six: No Smokes

Day One: No Cage

Last night I had the best sleep I've had in ages. Sam tucked in with me.

We talked for a bit before falling asleep.

She'd confessed she thought I was joking about the cage and thought we might do something nice with our time off like go to the gym together, grab brunch, get out of the house.

I listened and I reassured her we'd make the most of our remaining days off together.

So today we did just that. Sure, I had some intense cravings for a smoke. I only hoped time would make it easier. But I sensed something had shifted within me with the addiction. Also, there's a helpline you can use, they help talk you through your cravings.

I'm no stranger to breathing techniques. Maybe not a fully changed man, but hopeful.

Sam's been lighter too, laughing and making jokes about the cage. Jokes I know will last a lot longer than this red rash on my neck will.

"Maybe I should use the cage to give up chocolate," she'd mused at brunch. I dragged my eyes away from a passerby having a cig, forced myself to pay attention.

"You wouldn't last an hour," I teased.

"You don't either, in the bedroom," she whispered.

I laughed. Cheeky bloody Sam.

Sam posted a picture of me, consented, of course, of me in my cage titled:

"Man quits smokes with cage. Girlfriend tasked with unlocking it to feed him only."

To our absolute amazement, it goes viral.

Sure, it's going to be fun to joke to everyone, friends and family, when they ask how I quit smoking: I used a cage.

The real moment I gave them up was the moment Sam took the cage off me and handed me the key.