"Tool"? Now that's funny. I don't care who you are.
Anyhow, here's something I wrote on my day two or something. On day 435, that is just a distant memory, and not long after that first few days it started getting better, little by little. Just hang in there like all these guys say, and with time, this quitting thing gets to be a breeze. I still check the lock on my door, though, every single morning.
Day 2:
Can't sleep anyway and I had this thought to add to my early days log. I was reading a vet's comments on "closing the door." I can't recall who or the exact context (I've read so much, and my attention span is so hammered right now...sorry to the quiter I'm failing to properly acknowledge. I'll try to figure it out later).
At any rate, the discussion revolved around arriving at some point when you really feel that you've closed the door on the nicotine chapter of your life, like it's really something that is (more or less) behind you. It'll always be there since we're all addicts here, but I get the sentiment, a warmish feeling that nicotine is something from the past, so long as you maintain a certain level of vigilance learned through the journey.
I'm just battling away right now and clearly feel nowhere near that point. I did have a thought, though, that may or may not be worth thinking about later.
I am really committed to this thing. I am quit, not trying. In that sense, I have already closed the door. The problem is that the grizzly (literally and figuratively) is still right outside like Jack Nicholson with an ax and a smile, and he's swingin' away. What's more, my door is flimsy as hell, and I can't leave it for a second. There's no latch, no lock. I have to stand here and lean into with everything I've got, because if I relax even one of my muscles for a second, the doors gonna crumble and the grizzly is gonna run right over me. I kind of want to devote a little of my energy to something else right now, be it work or play, but I know I can't. This weak ass door just won't hold if I'm not leaning into with ALL my energy.
But that's why I'm here. No one can hold the door closed for me, but everybody is reminding me that I CAN hold it if I don't give up. I'm being reminded why I closed the door in the first place and why I'm not just letting the grizzly back in. I've got people who know a little something about this situation. They're telling me how to adjust my stance so my strength will hold on a little better, a little longer. They keep asking me to promise I'll keep all my weight into the door, and they keep promising me they'll do the same with their own.
So that's where I'm at. Yeah, my door's closed, but it's a stupid ass corregated cardboard flap. What I'm hoping is that down the line, through this process, I'll learn how to reinforce my door a little bit, maybe build some kind of latch or something. Maybe someday it'll be strong enough I won't have to lean on it all day. Maybe I'll be able to take a couple steps back. Maybe take a load off with a glass of iced tea and shotgun across my lap just in case. Maybe that's what having the door closed means. For now, I guess I'll just lower my shoulder check my footing and grit my teeth.
