Gonna blow the dust off of the old intro thread and broadcast some Sunday morning quit thoughts.
I'm the only one in the shop here today at work. For lack of anything better to do, I was cleaning out my toolbox and I ran across my trusty old mud jug thats been buried under some air tools in the bottom drawer. It wasn't just some coke bottle with some brown gunk in it. It was an aluminum Realtree energy drink bottle with a screw on cap. I was so proud of that bottle that I even engraved my name all over it with a dremel. I can't even begin to recall all the times I toted that thing around in my back pocket while working. Hell, I even took care of it. Every day before leaving work, I would rinse it out, add some soap, and screw the cap back on so it wouldn't stink.
I started thinking about that...
Spit.
Bottle.
Maintenance.
I gave a shit about a spit bottle enough that I cleaned it every day. A receptacle for my carcinogen tainted saliva got more attention than my coffee cup.
Then holy shit, I started thinking about all the other things that I neglected because of my filthy fucking addiction. And then I started thinking about how I used to spend so much time thinking about dip. I was always looking for an excuse to get outside and have one. I was sneaking them around the shop and out on the manufacturing floor. Spitting between the machines, only to have to crawl around in the space where I'd been spitting a week later. I spit in corners. I spit everywhere. Then it all came rushing back. Those feelings that culminated on September 26th, 2012 as I sat there in the living room. I had a cheek full of the bear shit, and I was still craving it. I remember when that hit me. It was like a fucking freight train.
*BAM*
I thought to myself, "Eric, you've got a pinch in, and you're craving the next pinch. What the fuck is wrong with you. Shouldn't the want have been satiated by that mess of cuts you just stuffed in?"
*BAM*
"Eric, you've been breaking your little '4 dips a day' rule for quite some time now. You've been craving more and more. You've been dipping more and more."
*BAM*
"Eric, you spend all your time thinking about the next pinch. You're now at a point where you're thinking about the next pinch while you've got one in."
*BAM*
"Eric, think of all the things you've missed out on and decided against because you didn't have enough dips in your little daily dip quota."
*BAM*
"Eric, this little hollow disc controls your life. It makes you feel like a man when you look at it. You're proud of your 'skaol rings'. You plan everything around it. You worship this can. You're an addict."
And then I realized what I was becoming. I was turning into one of those guys that chews 3 cans a day until he's 55 and then promptly dies of having cancer in everything in his head and neck. It was happening slowly, but it was sure as fuck happening. I didn't want to be that guy. Suddenly, I felt like I was ready to quit.
It was at that point that I started contemplating all my previous half hearted, worthless attempts at stopping. My fiance had asked me to more than once. Every time she asked me to I'd give it a lousy go and fail within a week. What's different about this one?
"Holy shit, this time I want to quit. I've always told everyone I could and would quit when I was ready to."
And I had. I'd been telling my loved ones that for years. When I wanted to quit, I would quit. I even told them it would be easy. So I googled up how to quit dip just like I had done before. I clicked into KTC just like I had done before. I started reading just like I had done before. Then I realized how familiar this all was. Every failed attempt at stopping before had started this way. Something had to be different this time, or it would be the same old weak tea where I fuck it up within a week.
"Eric, maybe you should join this time. There's a ton of great info on this site, maybe there's really something to being a part of their community..."
So I joined. Then I waltzed my happy ass up in here and tossed up this intro. I've spent a lot of time here in the intro section since joining, and I can tell you now that my intro reminds me of a lot of the guys that I've seen come in, puke up an intro that speaks of fairy tale tomorrow quits, and then bail never to be seen again. I would have been one of those guys too, had NOLAQ not challenged me and called me a "Sally." If I had waited until that smokey mountain I ordered showed up, I would have fallen in love with the death weed all over again that weekend. I bit the bullet and dumped it that next morning, because I couldn't stand the idea of being a "Sally." I couldn't take that. I mulled it over in my head and it made me so fucking mad I had no choice.
So that's what I've been thinking about this morning: How close I came to being one of those post-'n'-roast guys that shits out an intro with his glourious dreams of the planned quit, and then never shows up again. Fuck that. Fuck dip. Fuck cancer. I can never resign myself again to letting ANYTHING control my life the way that can did. I cherish this freedom too much. I can work harder. I can run farther. I can sleep whenever I want. I can kiss my beautiful fiance whenever I want. I can eat whenever I want. All becuase I don't have to think about stuffing my gullet with chaw all the god damned time. All because of this site.
Damn, I love being quit.
