Hello. Im Bill in Kansas. Im 36. I began chewing 14 years ago. I quit, cold turkey, on June 10, 2016. Ive lurked here for a couple of weeks, for support, and finally felt the need today to join up and drop a line.
First, I want to write that this forum is a miracle. Thank yall so much for creating this space for gals and guys to lean on each other. Sincerely.
My ongoing story of quitting may be a little different. I quit when my family made a big move. My wife got a great new job, requiring us to move, which led to me leaving my job. Doing that eliminated my biggest trigger: my work. For 12 years I basically chewed every single day, most of the day, while working. I worked six days a week. Every now and then I could make it through a Sunday with no chew, but not very often. Anyway, leaving my job/trigger seemed like the perfect time to finally quit. (I had tried a few times over the years, only to make it two weeks, max.) So with the transition, I quit.
I feel a little guilty saying this here, but the first couple of weeks were actually not hard. Without my familiar routine, the urge to pack a lip was not very strong. In fact, it was non-existent. I was proud. Then, at about the six- or seven-week mark or so, hell crept in.
I say "crept" because I did not know what was happening at first, just that it was horrible. I began having incredibly vivid dreams. Not nightmares, really, just these strange scenes involving folks I know. Each time, the dreams would leave me a little knocked back. Then something else happened, something much worse. I began worrying, obsessively, over trivial things from years ago, from a decade ago. Over my relationships with family members. Over friendships. Over conversations that happened eight or 12 years ago. Over anything! Ninety five percent of the time the worry was irrational. I knew that, but could not stop my mind from diving. The worry turned into anxiety and consumed entire days. I mean, ENTIRE days, then entire nights. Couldn't talk with people. Couldn't do anything but worry/stress. To the point of sweating. Then I had a panic attack. It only lasted an hour or so but it involved my wife having to sit right in front of me and assure me everything was fine. Humbling experience there. Thankfully, I have had no other panic attacks again.
Somewhere in there it snuck in on me: I need a dip. Bad. That's what I need. It felt so perfect. I knew a fat lip would calm my anxiety, put my fears to bed, and put me in a better place. It was one of the strongest urges Ive ever experienced.
Thankfully, I recognized the pull and resolved to not cave. I am still dreaming strange things. I am still dealing with horrible anxiety. I have urges to chew every day. But Ive decided to deal with my crap without the crutch of chew (my favorite was always Copenhagen, whiskey blend). I began seeing a counselor. And I began lurking here. With the help of this forum, and the support of family, I will NOT go back to chewing.
I reckon mainly what I wanted to convey was 1) Thank you, to the forum, to the community built here, because it's gotten me through some tight times over the last couple of weeks; and 2) Every person is different and quitting will effect us in different, strange ways. Leaning on each other and knowing other folks are here, going through the same thing, and can relate, is a powerful thing to lean on.
