Just. Keep. Going.
The last few days have been tough. My subconscious has returned the "glorifying" part of this addiction. As in, remember when driving used to be better with a dip? Remember when golf used to be better with a dip? Remember when being by yourself was better with a dip?
With the tools I have learned on this site though, I can make it. I promised the FUN bags and a bunch of other guys that today I wouldn't use it, so I'm not. What seems to kill the bad thoughts, is the idea that my life is NOT better with nicotine:
The drive wasn't any better. Remember the shavings all over your truck you dummy? Remember right after you put the dip in, the first few spits were kinda sticky? Remember how it stuck to the bottle and when you pulled the bottle away you had to scramble to not get slime on you? Remember how you had to try and hide the various cans in random places in the truck to avoid detection, and every time your wife got near your truck you freaked out because you didn't want her to find them?
Golf wasn't any better. Remember how you had to walk all the way off the green every time you needed to spit? Remember how the guys you played with got pissed because you were packing a freshy and it was your turn to hit? Remember how a blast from the sand would ruin a brand new chew and that was your biggest problem that day? Remember those young kids on the putting green that saw you with a big nasty wad in your mouth?
Being by myself wasn't any better. Remember how you basically had an affair with a stupid can? Remember when you would sit down after a long day and your wife left, and you were king of the world with your stupid face stuffed? Remember when your little boy would come out of his room because he was scared, and instead of comforting him, you got frustrated and hurried him back to his room so you could continue dipping "in peace"? Remember leaving the door to the garage open so your wife couldn't sneak up on you? Remember having to scramble to clean everything up when she got home early?
Fuck all of this bullshit. This isn't living. This isn't glorious or romantic. This is pure deranged bullshit. You threw years away enslaved by it. I can smell your rancid breath when you try to whisper to me. You can get dressed up all you want, wear something slutty, put on some smell good, and get me all sorts of drunk, but you will not take advantage of me any more. Turn out the lights and don't let the door smack you upside the ass as you leave.
The last few days have been tough, but not as tough as my brother going through chemo and radiation on his head. Not as tough as losing body parts to cancer. NOT NEARLY AS FUCKING TOUGH AS THE LAST THING THAT HAPPENS TO ME ON THIS EARTH IS HAVING ONE OF MY KIDS SCREAM "DADDY DON'T GO" because I was too fucking selfish to be done with it.
Just. Keep. Going. It will get better.