I was 32 and miserable when I got addicted to vaping. It was the winter of 2021, and I was unemployed and living with my parents in Las Vegas, where I knew no one. As my temporary pandemic living situation dragged on, my mood grew darker and more desperate. I bought a nicotine vape at a local smoke shop to take the edge off, as a treat.
My vaping habit was my way of trying to hold off an emotional tsunami with a boogie board. But I kept buying $12 electronic tubes of watermelon-mint-flavored nicotine to suck down in the solitude of my bedroom, away from my parents’ prying eyes and aging lungs. Sometimes they’d knock on my door and I’d yell “One second!” while flapping my hands in the air, waving away any visible smoke (although the sticky sweet smell lingered in the air). I felt ashamed. I was a millennial who had developed a habit that felt markedly teenage. And it had me in a chokehold.
As cigarette use has plummeted over the past several decades, vaping—with its enticing scent and aura of being “healthier” (courtesy of some wishful thinking)—has surged in popularity in recent years. Vaping is often associated with the very young: In 2021, a national survey found that 11 percent of U.S. high school students and 3 percent of middle schoolers reported vaping in the last month. But it’s actually young adults who are propelling the explosive rise of vaping: A recent Gallup survey found that nearly one-fifth of 18- to 29-year-olds reported vaping, the highest of all age groups. The increase in alcohol use as a way to self-soothe may have gotten all the attention during the pandemic, but in reality, a lot of adults are also leaving peach-mango-scented clouds in their wake—and brushing off real health concerns. |
