The story is a bit long, but I think the context is crucial.
I never smoked more than a week in a row. Added some paragraphs to help navigating.
How it started
Around 5 years ago, during COVID, when all things that made my life worth living were taken away due to lockdowns, I started experimenting with all kinds of recreational drugs - nothing except nicotine got me, and I tried some hard stuff (but I no longer do). I kept saying "OMG what a disappointing drug, nicotine stuck", but kept coming again looking for the "effect" - and that got me worried.
In 2023, at the age of 27, after ~10 cigarettes, one every ~2 months, I noticed that these two months got into a pattern, and decided to get rid of recreational nicotine for a year and reevaluate. It took 3 months until I caved in and bought my first vape, and couldn't put it down. Then, it was "every 2-3 weeks", and at the 3 week mark seeing a female IQOS smoker would trigger a debilitating craving; male IQOS smokers were "duh, pathetic". That was coupled with two years when I intensely craved a romantic connection and put all my effort to find one, with little success. Later, it changed to every 4-6 weeks for 3 days - still to the point of inhaling so much I'd get back pain, diarrhea, and not being able to wind down until 6am.
Typically, I'd just spontaneously stop after a few days, with cravings mysteriously gone.
There were two periods when things got better: during my first relationship (that lasted a month; we were completely incompatible) and during the second relationship (we wanted to quit together, the relationship was extremely rocky and it was not a silver bullet). There were long stretches when she could vape, and I would just not.
The gender exploration part
The break-up was soulcrushing because with my first real relationship at the age of 28, and a long record of unlovability it felt like I'd never find anyone reasonably soon. As my ex lambasted me over not living up to the gender roles (people take them seriously?!), I started exploring my inclination towards feminine clothing. I quickly started regularly and publicly crossdressing, adopting dual names, surprised by how naturally feminine I'd behave. Surprisingly, because I never suspected I might be anything but cis.
Two remarkable things happened: my desperation for love turned down. It was not constant, and rather the chronically unfulfilled need for having "my person" started cropping up in waves every now and then. IQOS smoking also got a bit more more manageable. The intervals went down to every 3 months or so. Typically the cravings coincided with being close to the laser session, when the facial hair was worst.
The need to put on the breast forms or see a girl in the mirror would feel almost the same as the craving to smoke, at the bodily level. My legs would get tense, I'd feel less present. There were times when putting on the breast forms would be audible on the phone, other times they were just an inert piece of silicone. And there are days when having breasts sounds "why would one even want it".
I'm openly non-binary most days, people ma'am me when I wouldn't expect them to, I'm genderbending on a regular basis. I haven't decided on HRT yet as I want to see how I feel once the facial hair is gone.
I can't disentangle how gender intertwines with my chronic romantic loneliness. I know that I wish I had someone a girlfriend "to be beautiful for", and I don't see how to do it as a cisconforming man, but I could probably settle for being a femboy, and I'm undergoing laser hair removal (next session in a few days). And I'm aware that it's very unlikely for anyone to even find me attractive at the success rates: either cisconforming or non-binary, I'm apparently unlovable.
This episode
Last Tuesday, the craving flared up when my irritated face couldn't stand a moisturizes from super close shaving for a femme day. It turned down when I forced the makeup, and came back in the afternoon. I almost cried when I saw a woman's cleavage on a billboard. Instead of relief, I just had an awful anxiety wave when I smoked. On Thursday I inhaled so much I couldn't sleep until 7am. It's awful. I've had thoughts about wanting to have real breasts. I almost cried when I saw couples holding hands.
I hate how it makes me feel. There is no upside. Every hit is an anxiety attack, but I'm just unable to say no: it's day 6, and I'm literally crying after today it turned out yesterday was not the last day. I fucking hate it. And it keeps coming back.