I grew up with a smoker. My mother, who suffers from both schizophrenia and anxiety, was a three pack a day smoker when I was growing up. I loathed her smoking so much that I did everything a little kid could do to stop her from the act. I remember stomping on her cigarettes and even throwing them out the window all to no avail. My mother would try to quit but it never seemed to work out. One method which finally did work was she went to a hypnotist. His name was “Master G” or...

