I was 18, working as a framers' gofer, when I took my first dip. I was standing on the 4" width of a wall 20' above ground when a buddy, a rodeo cowboy, handed me a Copenhagen can, said "here", and walked away without looking at me while he peeled the lid off another tin. I remember that it stunk of ammonia, but I pinched some anyway, just like the commercial told me to do. In only a second I felt pressure inside my nose and ears, then in my neck, and I was light-headed. I staggered and almost fell. There was nothing pleasant about it.
For these 34+ years I've often thought back to that first time and I wonder how it's possible that I'm still chewing, when there's nothing about it that I like. I've got GERD. I figure I've spent around ten thousand dollars on chew: money I'd like to use to keep what's left of my teeth. It's humiliating.
Most people who know me would never guess that I chew. I've quit at least a dozen times, sometimes for months, even years at a time, but just one dip and its like I never stopped for a moment.
This time is different. One of my boys is hooked now. It made me so sad to think about that, it was like I saw myself for the first time. But it's always different - I need more than another reason to quit. I have nine children. I've always had plenty of reasons. What I need is a plan. That's what brought me here.
Ninereasons. Day 4
