I just wanted to post an update on my first week. First, I am super thankful for everyone here! I love coming to the site and reading people's stories, for some reason itÂ’s really helpful. I really didn't think it would help but for some reason it motivation to learn about how others are overcoming their past habits etc... So, because I'm grateful for other's stories here is a little bit more of mine.
When I was a sophomore college my Dad died from throat cancer of all things. It started in his throat, then after chemo and radiation immediately spread to his lungs and liver. His type of cancer was nicknamed by the Doctors "The smoker/ Drinker Cancer" But.....He never smoked, or dipped a day in his life, and barely drank. I was so fucking angry at the irony of his illness/ death that when I saw my friends dipping and smoking after that point, I was like, fuck it, what difference does it make if dip can kill you, my pops didn't touch the shit and he still died. Pretty stupid 19/20 yr old logic but I was young, heartbroken, seriously angry and before you know it I was dipping while drinking and pretty soon I was hooked. The worst part, the part that makes me feel the most guilt is that the more I did it, the more I genuinely enjoyed it. I would tell people I was gonna quit, but I honestly did not want to. I loved it. In the beginning I never felt like I needed it, I just fucking wanted more of it. I guess that's the sneaky part of addiction... Looking back now I feel so fucking stupid for risking my life, my livelihood, (I'm a singer/ voice actor). As I look back on the escalation of my addiction I am amazed how I let it happen.
When I first started in college, I would dip while in class, I would dip all night while I was bar-tending, I'd just lean into the sink and wash my hands and spit into the drain. After a couple years of doing a can every few days, I began dipping first thing in the morning. I'd throw one in right before I hopped into the shower. After the shower I'd take it out, (save it) brush my teeth, and put it right back in. I'd leave it in all morning until about 10. Have a coffee, put another bomb in there until lunch. Eat, another banger or two until the end of work. Swap that out for a fresh one for the ride home, and while I'm home I finish off the can and run to the store to get another one for the next day. If I wasn't sleeping or eating, I was dipping.
I finally, recently, started to realize how big of a grip it had on my life because my girlfriend started to speak up, sheÂ’s been with me for 10 years so she's noticed the escalation. She'd say "I never see you without it, IÂ’m worried about youÂ… I donÂ’t want you to ruin your lifeÂ…our lives." I would get so fucking mad at her for saying anything at all that I would leave the room or storm out of the house. How unfair for me to punish her for wanting me to stay alive. Subconsciously I knew I had a major problem, but just wasn't ready to admit it, because despite the senselessness of my fatherÂ’s death, and the fact that I knew this could very well kill me. I still was secretly in love with it. What a horrible love story.
I could go on forever, as I know many of you could, but these were some thoughts on my mind today. I apologize if this is a bit scattered, IÂ’m still in a heavy Fog even on Day 7. As hard as this week has been IÂ’m proud of myself for staying quit each day for 7 days. I will keep it up, and I hope you all will too.
-T_Roy