I had my first smoke when I was 13, my first chew the next day, and I never looked back.
I quit for the hundredth time on May 10th, but have cheated on my quit a few times. I tell myself that it's okay because it's "only a Bandit" and that I've earned it. The ridiculous thing is that I know what a lie that is. I've been chewing for twenty years. I can't believe that's true.
I've literally thrown away dozens of full tins, brand spanking new minus one chew. My brain tricks me into rationalizing "just one chew" or "just one more tin" and the guilt/regret sets in as soon as the urge is satisfied.
The ridiculous thing is that me and my family avoid so many things (foods, detergents, artificial sweetener, fertilizer, etc.) that are known carcinogens, but here I am chewing my face off.
I hypocritically nag on my mother to quit smoking.
My biggest thing, as ridiculous as it sounds, is that I don't want to give up chew on my annual duck hunt with my pals. 5am, duck blind, coffee, load the gun, put in a fat chew: that's heaven. The problem is, I've tried that before and failed. As soon as the trip is over, I finish off the remainder of the tin or trick myself that I am weaning off (again) and that one more tin won't hurt. Next thing you know, another year has past and I go INTO the annual duck hunt a total addict.
I even imposed a rule that I would only chew if I was hunting. Well, wouldn't you know it: I started hunting a lot more often.
Anyway, technically I'm on day 3 and I feel like shit. Last night I had a dream that I was buying a tin. I feel hungover.
I'm quitting because it's not worth it, because my wife hates it, because I'm sick of being moody, because I love my daughter, because I don't want to be a hypocrite, because I know better, because I don't want to lose a part of my face, because I like my teeth, and because I don't like the idea of being an addict. Which I am.
I'm not going to lie, though. I love chew. I still doubt my ability or willingness to not chew in the duck blind, one week a year.
3.