30 days quit. That number of days means nothing. With 25 years of chewing under my belt, 30 days quit is a sprinkle of freshwater in the ocean comparatively. However, it is 30 days of no nicotine and that means everything. This time I’m quit. I’m sitting here early morning (since I’m reading it isn’t all that early anymore, oh well) which is normal, with my 1 year old son, typing this in between books he is bringing me to read, Dr. Seuss books are his jam right now. It is a favorite time of day on the weekend.
My dad chewed for as long as I have memory, and my mom smoked. I won’t blame them for any of my bad habits, I’m not someone who blames my parents for anything in my life. My dad did his best to tell me I’m a fucking idiot for starting. They instilled good values in me and made me a decent and productive human being and I thank them for that. However I learned what chew was and that it must be ok since my dad and older brother did it. That is one of the many things I’m thankful for with being quit. My daughter and son won’t see me with a dip in my lip. I don’t need it and I can have those talks with them without guilt, when the time comes. I know that doesn’t mean they won’t try it or have friends that get them hooked, but hell if it will be me that starts them.
My 4 year old is now awake and all is well in the world. Another 6 inches of snow and it is still coming down. We’ll be out plowing, shoveling, and sledding later today. Life is good, and getting better everyday nic free.