Starting off my 9th day of freedom feeling good, and in a sharing mood...
I went into the weekend with a fair amount of trepidation for sure. On one hand, I was looking forward to getting out of Dodge for a few days for a little change of scenery. Working from home 5 days a week is great and all, but after spending last week at home alone for days 2-6 I needed to get out of my own head a little bit. On the other hand, we were going up to my in-law's place up in Maine. Under normal circumstances, this is typically a good thing. I love coastal Maine. It reminds me of the places where I grew up and I probably feel more at home up there than I do in my own town. That said, these were not "normal circumstances" and as I would quickly realize, a trip up north is rife with triggers. As an added bonus, this is also "Grandma Week" - my mother-in-law's annual tradition of hosting her grandkids solo for an entire week. It would also mark the first year that our daughter would be old enough to attend Grandma Week. Our job heading into this blessed event would be to ferry our daughter and my brother-in-law's two older kids up there with us. Sounds easy enough, right? Right?
The first test came on the 3+ hour drive to get there. Long drives + dip/NRT have gone hand-in-hand with me for so long, I was a near basketcase trying to get prepared for it sans-nic.* This time around the cans and spitters in the center console would be replaced with trident gum and jolly ranchers. Surprisingly, the drive went fairly well. We got a late start due to traffic and I had to listen to some crazy, scratched-up anime version of "Heidi" blaring from my niece's DVD player for half of the trip, but it wasn't the white knuckle hell ride I had thought it would be. Win #1 on the weekend.
Saturday morning came very, very early.** Pre-dawn early. My brother-in-law's entire family are notorious early risers, and his offspring tend to lead that charge. "If I'm up at 5:00am, motherfucker, you are, too." When I finally succumbed to my sleepless fate at 7:00am, I went out into the kitchen to discover that the screaming and stomping around I'd been listening to for the last half hour were my two nieces mercilessly antagonizing my dog.*** Now's probably a good time to back up and preface this with the fact that my brother-in-law's kids tend to treat other people and domesticated animals
differently when their folks aren't around. A lack of sleep + the early days of a proper quit = prime conditions for an unfiltered, yet composed, leveling of expectations on said in-law's progeny. Frankly, the whole incident ratfucked my mood for the rest of the day, but it was clear skies and calm seas ahead for the rest of the adults that otherwise would have been subject to the little darling's precocious antics. It also spurred me to reach out to a few fellow quitters that had offered up their digits as well as to other folks in chat and PM. I went to bed feeling grateful and reinforced in my quit. Wins #2 and #3 on the weekend.
Well, I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.**** Actually, that's not true at all. I felt great for the first time in well over a week, and that unrelenting fog had finally started to lift. It had been 7 days since the devil's dirt had crossed my lips. I also made a strategic decision to sleep on a bunk out in the fish house (literally a tiny shack on the dock 30 yards from the actual house), so I would not be aroused from my glorious slumber until almost 9:00. The only interruptions were a few lobster boats firing up their diesels around 6:30, but those are good, hearty, Maine sounds. Beyond that, utter peace and tranquility. When I triumphantly trudged back up to the house, all of the kids and my mother-in-law were at the kitchen counter cutting an unholy pile of lemons. When I quizzed them on this, they said that they were making fresh squeezed lemonade for a lemonade stand. They followed this up with the fact that all of the money they made would be going to the
Jimmy Fund. Yep, right in the feels. After I goaded them into doubling their prices, I offered to match whatever they made dollar for dollar, as extra incentive to crank out those sales. The rest of the day was a blur of hunting for crabs at the tiny beach, helping the kids with their lemonade operation, and watching them overcome their fears by jumping off the dock into the frigid waters. My dip reflex kicked in 3, maybe 4 times at most. After dinner, my wife and I packed up the car, bid our daughter adieu for the week, and made the 3 hour trek back home. Somewhere in the darkened silence between Kennebunk and Kittery, I found myself reaching in my shirt pocket for a stashed lozenge. Of course, nothing was there. Despite having a day of relative ease, it was yet another reminder that the beast still very much has her claws in me, and that I can never, ever let my guard down. Win #4 on the weekend.
Thanks to everyone that offered up their digits, spent some time humoring me in chat/PM's, and chiming in with words of support on my intro thread. I count myself as one of the fortunate ones to have found this place. Even as the great "Cum Bubble Battle" of 2014 rages on.
Tuco
*I became such a prolific ninja dipper, I've been known to casually throw one in on long drives while my wife slept in the seat next to me and my daughter was in the back playing on the iPad. If they made an Ocean's 11 movie about ninja dipping, I expect it would be loosely based off of some of my experiences.
**I love to sleep. Love it. During my quit, it has also been my last refuge from the early onslaught of craves and mind games that the nic bitch tosses my way.
***Don't fuck with my kid or my dog. Ever.
****Great opening line from one of my favorite songs, and a subtle nod to the fact that I haven't had a drop to drink in over a week.
