Hello all,
My first encounter with nicotine was 13 days before my 18th birthday--my girlfriend gave me a cigarette, and I foolishly accepted. Since then, I've heavily used whatever tobacco I could get my hands on, but eventually settled on smokeless tobacco. I remember so many instances where I'd sneak away to have a cigarette or dip while visiting my family, or hiding this addiction from girlfriends. This eventually evolved into dodging my daughter's questions when she asked "daddy what are you eating/drinking" or trying to buy a can without her noticing. I was always pretty ashamed by my addiction I guess, but never ashamed enough to really try to quit.
A few things occurred to me this year, though:
I always remembered thinking "It's only been X years since I started. I'll quit soon" every year around my birthday. My birthday isn't here yet, but I got to thinking a couple months ago that this would mark my ten year anniversary. That was my first shock--I've been addicted to nicotine for a decade.
Second, I just got a job a public health nurse. I sit, in my office or at a health fair or whatever, and I tell people what all of the benefits to tobacco cessation are, and I give them all of the resources they can use, and how they can do it, and blah blah blah. That's not my entire job description, but it's part of it, and I realized what an ass I am, trying to help people do something I am unwilling to do.
I took a good look at myself, and realized that continuing to dip is pretty ridiculous. That and I was tired of bottles of spit and empty cans accumulating in my car or on my desk, tired of having ass breath all the time, tired of that accidental-nap brown ring on the pillow, and so on. So at midnight on September 22, I threw my stash in the trash.
Humorously (or disgustingly) enough, I dug a can out of trash on the 23rd and seriously contemplated having a chew; thankfully I ended-up flushing it instead. No nicotine or tobacco since.
Historically, I've been successful at quitting a number of times until I get to around day 45-50, and then I succumb to this horrid feeling that I have right now, a sort of combination of depression, boredom, and anxiety. I start to feel like I flushed my best friend down the toilet.
I know that's bullshit. I am ready to do it right this time. I know that I am not tough enough or smart enough to just get through it--I've learned that much through experience. So I signed up in my weakest moment, instead of the alternative.
