SKOAL MONSTER

[RAZD611]

Alright, I looked and I can't find it, maybe I missed it or it's not in here ( confused yet?).

There was a story about building a chicken coop in the driveway and I thought is was in here..............

Help.

I remember that one.

Yeah , my double hernia reminds me all the time. I dunno where that was , I do know that SOB was heavier than a train full of circus elephants, and if doomsday hits I'll be in the coop. It's built stronger than my house. But in the future I will build giant crap like that where it lives instead of the garage. I must have been fogged in . 'bang head' 'bang head'

Found it...

Posted in August 2010:
by SkoalMonster



If the olympics had an event for carpentry , I would be the short odds favorite to kick ass.By kick ass, I mean nailing my hands together after stapling my junk to a 2x4.

A month ago my dumbass decides, with some encouragement from my 3 year old, who has less common sense than Tortilla Jesus after a gallon of Jaeger Meister, to get some chickens. I figure they're probably like eggs, so I get 6. Only minor problem is I don't have a coop. Now, the thing about chickens is , they grow faster than Hawkquit's schlong after eating a tub of viagra and watching Mrs Howell on Gilligans Island. No, worries I think because like CougerDaddys signifigant other I have every tool under the sun. . So I start building. What I lack in construction experience I make up for with enthusiasm ( like sex with BFrank, so I hear). If the incredible hulk built shit while he was all green and steroidal, it would pale in comparison to the sheer strength of the fucking bomb shelter that I have built for my 5 chickens. Oh yeah, it is now a dyslexic bakers half dozen. On the plus side the cat is happier than shit and the kids now know that chickens go to heaven and the cat is a dick. My window licking 3 year old suggests that we say fuck it on the bunker style coop and feed the rest of the chickens to the cat. Because " it was kind of funny" Little buddy might be smarter than I give him credit for, or like Zombie, a future serial killer.

But, unlike raging Jews sister, Im no easy sell, so I keep building. I roof, I insulate, I fence, glue, cut, and screw. Reminds me of dating my wife, except roof had an ie on it. shes still pissed about the whole fencing cage thing. Women.... but I digress.

Today I finsihed the Rhino proof, hurricane proof, nuclear bomb shelter that is my coop. I looked proudly at the double thick walls, the cedar trim that hides all my fuck ups. The 300 screws, The perfectly fitting doors and ramps and roofing and fencing job. "Yes this 8 foot long by 4 foot wide and 6 foot tall house is a beauty of redneck engineering. The problem you ask?..........built it in the driveway. It must weigh over 1,000 pounds, cant even lift a corner with two guys.

I am considering wearing a helmet all day every day and also having what remains of my pea sized brain surgically removed so I dont get in any more trouble. However, I did the whole thing dip free so I got that going for me.

Thanks!!! I needed that. Shit cracked me up from the first time I read it.

'crackup'

[DennyX]

I love chickens. I built the polar opposite coop for my half dozen. It was rickety, shotty, and a muddy mess in winter. Those poor chickens. They now live at my mom's, free range in the Santa Cruz mountains. Chicken heaven. Love that post, glad you dug it up.

[Skoal Monster]

Alright, I looked and I can't find it, maybe I missed it or it's not in here ( confused yet?).

There was a story about building a chicken coop in the driveway and I thought is was in here..............

Help.

I remember that one.

Yeah , my double hernia reminds me all the time. I dunno where that was , I do know that SOB was heavier than a train full of circus elephants, and if doomsday hits I'll be in the coop. It's built stronger than my house. But in the future I will build giant crap like that where it lives instead of the garage. I must have been fogged in . 'bang head' 'bang head'

Found it...

Posted in August 2010:
by SkoalMonster



If the olympics had an event for carpentry , I would be the short odds favorite to kick ass.By kick ass, I mean nailing my hands together after stapling my junk to a 2x4.

A month ago my dumbass decides, with some encouragement from my 3 year old, who has less common sense than Tortilla Jesus after a gallon of Jaeger Meister, to get some chickens. I figure they're probably like eggs, so I get 6. Only minor problem is I don't have a coop. Now, the thing about chickens is , they grow faster than Hawkquit's schlong after eating a tub of viagra and watching Mrs Howell on Gilligans Island. No, worries I think because like CougerDaddys signifigant other I have every tool under the sun. . So I start building. What I lack in construction experience I make up for with enthusiasm ( like sex with BFrank, so I hear). If the incredible hulk built shit while he was all green and steroidal, it would pale in comparison to the sheer strength of the fucking bomb shelter that I have built for my 5 chickens. Oh yeah, it is now a dyslexic bakers half dozen. On the plus side the cat is happier than shit and the kids now know that chickens go to heaven and the cat is a dick. My window licking 3 year old suggests that we say fuck it on the bunker style coop and feed the rest of the chickens to the cat. Because " it was kind of funny" Little buddy might be smarter than I give him credit for, or like Zombie, a future serial killer.

But, unlike raging Jews sister, Im no easy sell, so I keep building. I roof, I insulate, I fence, glue, cut, and screw. Reminds me of dating my wife, except roof had an ie on it. shes still pissed about the whole fencing cage thing. Women.... but I digress.

Today I finsihed the Rhino proof, hurricane proof, nuclear bomb shelter that is my coop. I looked proudly at the double thick walls, the cedar trim that hides all my fuck ups. The 300 screws, The perfectly fitting doors and ramps and roofing and fencing job. "Yes this 8 foot long by 4 foot wide and 6 foot tall house is a beauty of redneck engineering. The problem you ask?..........built it in the driveway. It must weigh over 1,000 pounds, cant even lift a corner with two guys.

I am considering wearing a helmet all day every day and also having what remains of my pea sized brain surgically removed so I dont get in any more trouble. However, I did the whole thing dip free so I got that going for me.

[Skoal Monster]

Alright, I looked and I can't find it, maybe I missed it or it's not in here ( confused yet?).

There was a story about building a chicken coop in the driveway and I thought is was in here..............

Help.

I remember that one.

Yeah , my double hernia reminds me all the time. I dunno where that was , I do know that SOB was heavier than a train full of circus elephants, and if doomsday hits I'll be in the coop. It's built stronger than my house. But in the future I will build giant crap like that where it lives instead of the garage. I must have been fogged in . 'bang head' 'bang head'

[G]

Alright, I looked and I can't find it, maybe I missed it or it's not in here ( confused yet?).

There was a story about building a chicken coop in the driveway and I thought is was in here..............

Help.

I remember that one.

[RAZD611]

Alright, I looked and I can't find it, maybe I missed it or it's not in here ( confused yet?).

There was a story about building a chicken coop in the driveway and I thought is was in here..............

Help.

[Skoal Monster]

2 for 2

You are a legend

Naw, Daniel Boone was a legend. I'm just a guy with a paddle ball in one hand and a rolling pin in the other, licking windows and laughing at people in funny hats. 'Crazy'

[raiderx]

2 for 2

You are a legend

[nmc]

sM's Road to Quit

  Some years ago I got a call from a frantic daughter explaining that she had not heard from her father for a few weeks which was out of character for him. She asked I check on him. He was a retired police officer, overweight, with bad circulation from years of chewing tobacco. A good guy.

I found him on his couch, sitting up. He had been there for weeks. All around him were spit cups and spent dips that had been left everywhere. It was like a giant dip shitting rabbit had left pellets of skoal all over his apartment. A rancid spitter had spilled at his feet when the heart attack took him. He died dipping, covered in brown spit, surrounded by stinking cups of cancerous ooze. The damage nicotine had done to his circulatory system was determined to be a major contributor to his death. He never even had time to say goodbye to his daughter.

I walked out and packed a dip. The irony of that bothered me. The memory of it sickens me.

Weeks later another resident came in to pay her rent. She was going through her second round of chemo, and was swollen like Verucca Sault after eating the unperfected blueberry gum from Willy Wonka. She'd lost all her hair and had black rings under eyes. I met her at my desk with a wedge in my mouth. She looked at me and started to weep. She said " but you have babies!!" She asked me why I hadn't quit. Lamely I stammered about it being difficult and said" you know how it is" she said, " NO, I DID NOT know how it is" and became angry with me. She was dead in a week.

Before the lung cancer took its tool, she was beautiful. She was from Europe somewhere and had that cosmopolitan flare. She smoked with the grace of an old school silver screen beauty like Bacall.  She had class. In the end cancer stripped it all bare, left her a wheezing shell of herself.  I can't shake the vision of her looking hard into my eyes with tears falling from her ashen cheeks and asking me why I hadn't quit yet. How ridiculous my answer. I can see her husband standing at the window smoking as I type this.  I'm embarrassed that I understand it. He is an addict just like me. Not even holding his wives hand as she died due to smoking could flip the switch in his head. I'm ashamed that I was once as lost as him.

Another month went by and I sat in a duck blind by myself knuckles deep into a log of chew during a week long duck hunt. I began to ponder the stupidity of my addiction. I felt horrible most days. My heart beat jumped like a jackrabbit on meth. I was tired, I needed at least 2 cans a day to feel  " normal" . Thing was is my use had gotten to the level that I was unable to remove the withdrawl symptoms. I was spending the entire day in a state of nicotine withdrawl.  I could chew nic gum, smoke, and dip, but really never got any relief from the cravings. I see now that this is how drug addicts eventually overdose and die. If it was heroin or coke and not nicotine, I'd be dead. In any case I had a moment of clarity and realized if I was going to live in a constant state of withdrawl, I might as well quit and stop killing myself. I wasn't going to feel anymore shitty so what was the difference.  I set my last can on the ledge of the blind and never used nicotine again.

This is nicotine's end game. At some point you reach the level of addiction that your never "not" using. It's why there are chain smokers. It's why you replaced one dip after another after another. It is why you hide your habit from your family and coworkers. It is why I would buy my chew from different gas stations because I was actually embarrased by how much I used.  It is also why nicotine will never get me back. I know what is there at the end. She either kills you outright with cancer, kills you slowly with related disease, or just stops "working" . It is a no win game from all angles. a neurotoxic romance where the only outcomes are death or quit.

three years into my quit, my wife who is a health nut of epic proportions, slim as a rail and almost vegetarian was diagnosed with cancer. No cause, just random luck.  The fear, anguish, hurt of that diagnosis and treatment that followed was unbelieveable. Cancer is a mother fucker my friends. Thank God she has made it through that and is one year clean today. There is no earthly way any human being would place himself in that posistion on purpose, and yet we do. We use a substance that we know will kill us eventually. We take comfort in the so called odds that we won't be the one that gets it. We try to believe the storys about the grandparent that smokes and dipped until he was 103. We lie to ourselves.  Jenny Kern once said " the odds don't matter when your the one who gets it" She is right. Moreover, there are no odds you could give me that would make me risk hurting my family to such a huge extent. Purposefully killing ourselves by choosing nicotine over our family? stupid.

I'm so relieved I quit. I'm comforted now by the fact that I am approaching 4 years quit and that each passing day brings me closer to reducing my risk of cancer back to the level of a non tobacco user. It was so easy in hindsight. I just had to make up my mind to do it. To accept the consequences of quitting. To pay the price of the suck and the funks. It was so worth all of that shit, it was easier than I thought, and the rewards far greater.

Stay quit , it IS literally life and death

sM

Thanks SM, that hit the spot and further substantiates the thoughts flowing through my head as the days without go scrolling by. How flipping stupid we all were, how fucking lucky we are to have a chance to fight back, how great is it that we have a foundation to lean against when our quit life isn't perfect.

I really can't explain why I hopped in here on an afternoon when I have too much work and too little time to get it completed. I just know Someone is looking out for us as we walk this road to freedom.

QLAFM with you today.

Thanks for sharing that, sM. Powerful stuff and I'm glad to have landed in a quit group with you. I was right there with you on not being able to get enough "delivery." The freedom is amazing and I'm in this for the long-haul. It's great to hear that your wife is cancer free! I'll quit with you anytime my friend.

Now, to the reader out there in the ether. If you haven't quit yet, read his words again. You have no idea what awaits you. You need to decide if living is worth the effort.

[eric71]

sM's Road to Quit

Some years ago I got a call from a frantic daughter explaining that she had not heard from her father for a few weeks which was out of character for him. She asked I check on him. He was a retired police officer, overweight, with bad circulation from years of chewing tobacco. A good guy.

I found him on his couch, sitting up. He had been there for weeks. All around him were spit cups and spent dips that had been left everywhere. It was like a giant dip shitting rabbit had left pellets of skoal all over his apartment. A rancid spitter had spilled at his feet when the heart attack took him. He died dipping, covered in brown spit, surrounded by stinking cups of cancerous ooze. The damage nicotine had done to his circulatory system was determined to be a major contributor to his death. He never even had time to say goodbye to his daughter.

I walked out and packed a dip. The irony of that bothered me. The memory of it sickens me.

Weeks later another resident came in to pay her rent. She was going through her second round of chemo, and was swollen like Verucca Sault after eating the unperfected blueberry gum from Willy Wonka. She'd lost all her hair and had black rings under eyes. I met her at my desk with a wedge in my mouth. She looked at me and started to weep. She said " but you have babies!!" She asked me why I hadn't quit. Lamely I stammered about it being difficult and said" you know how it is" she said, " NO, I DID NOT know how it is" and became angry with me. She was dead in a week.

Before the lung cancer took its tool, she was beautiful. She was from Europe somewhere and had that cosmopolitan flare. She smoked with the grace of an old school silver screen beauty like Bacall. She had class. In the end cancer stripped it all bare, left her a wheezing shell of herself. I can't shake the vision of her looking hard into my eyes with tears falling from her ashen cheeks and asking me why I hadn't quit yet. How ridiculous my answer. I can see her husband standing at the window smoking as I type this. I'm embarrassed that I understand it. He is an addict just like me. Not even holding his wives hand as she died due to smoking could flip the switch in his head. I'm ashamed that I was once as lost as him.

Another month went by and I sat in a duck blind by myself knuckles deep into a log of chew during a week long duck hunt. I began to ponder the stupidity of my addiction. I felt horrible most days. My heart beat jumped like a jackrabbit on meth. I was tired, I needed at least 2 cans a day to feel " normal" . Thing was is my use had gotten to the level that I was unable to remove the withdrawl symptoms. I was spending the entire day in a state of nicotine withdrawl. I could chew nic gum, smoke, and dip, but really never got any relief from the cravings. I see now that this is how drug addicts eventually overdose and die. If it was heroin or coke and not nicotine, I'd be dead. In any case I had a moment of clarity and realized if I was going to live in a constant state of withdrawl, I might as well quit and stop killing myself. I wasn't going to feel anymore shitty so what was the difference. I set my last can on the ledge of the blind and never used nicotine again.

This is nicotine's end game. At some point you reach the level of addiction that your never "not" using. It's why there are chain smokers. It's why you replaced one dip after another after another. It is why you hide your habit from your family and coworkers. It is why I would buy my chew from different gas stations because I was actually embarrased by how much I used. It is also why nicotine will never get me back. I know what is there at the end. She either kills you outright with cancer, kills you slowly with related disease, or just stops "working" . It is a no win game from all angles. a neurotoxic romance where the only outcomes are death or quit.

three years into my quit, my wife who is a health nut of epic proportions, slim as a rail and almost vegetarian was diagnosed with cancer. No cause, just random luck. The fear, anguish, hurt of that diagnosis and treatment that followed was unbelieveable. Cancer is a mother fucker my friends. Thank God she has made it through that and is one year clean today. There is no earthly way any human being would place himself in that posistion on purpose, and yet we do. We use a substance that we know will kill us eventually. We take comfort in the so called odds that we won't be the one that gets it. We try to believe the storys about the grandparent that smokes and dipped until he was 103. We lie to ourselves. Jenny Kern once said " the odds don't matter when your the one who gets it" She is right. Moreover, there are no odds you could give me that would make me risk hurting my family to such a huge extent. Purposefully killing ourselves by choosing nicotine over our family? stupid.

I'm so relieved I quit. I'm comforted now by the fact that I am approaching 4 years quit and that each passing day brings me closer to reducing my risk of cancer back to the level of a non tobacco user. It was so easy in hindsight. I just had to make up my mind to do it. To accept the consequences of quitting. To pay the price of the suck and the funks. It was so worth all of that shit, it was easier than I thought, and the rewards far greater.

Stay quit , it IS literally life and death

sM

Thanks SM, that hit the spot and further substantiates the thoughts flowing through my head as the days without go scrolling by. How flipping stupid we all were, how fucking lucky we are to have a chance to fight back, how great is it that we have a foundation to lean against when our quit life isn't perfect.

I really can't explain why I hopped in here on an afternoon when I have too much work and too little time to get it completed. I just know Someone is looking out for us as we walk this road to freedom.

QLAFM with you today.

[Skoal Monster]

sM's Road to Quit

Some years ago I got a call from a frantic daughter explaining that she had not heard from her father for a few weeks which was out of character for him. She asked I check on him. He was a retired police officer, overweight, with bad circulation from years of chewing tobacco. A good guy.

I found him on his couch, sitting up. He had been there for weeks. All around him were spit cups and spent dips that had been left everywhere. It was like a giant dip shitting rabbit had left pellets of skoal all over his apartment. A rancid spitter had spilled at his feet when the heart attack took him. He died dipping, covered in brown spit, surrounded by stinking cups of cancerous ooze. The damage nicotine had done to his circulatory system was determined to be a major contributor to his death. He never even had time to say goodbye to his daughter.

I walked out and packed a dip. The irony of that bothered me. The memory of it sickens me.

Weeks later another resident came in to pay her rent. She was going through her second round of chemo, and was swollen like Verucca Sault after eating the unperfected blueberry gum from Willy Wonka. She'd lost all her hair and had black rings under eyes. I met her at my desk with a wedge in my mouth. She looked at me and started to weep. She said " but you have babies!!" She asked me why I hadn't quit. Lamely I stammered about it being difficult and said" you know how it is" she said, " NO, I DID NOT know how it is" and became angry with me. She was dead in a week.

Before the lung cancer took its tool, she was beautiful. She was from Europe somewhere and had that cosmopolitan flare. She smoked with the grace of an old school silver screen beauty like Bacall. She had class. In the end cancer stripped it all bare, left her a wheezing shell of herself. I can't shake the vision of her looking hard into my eyes with tears falling from her ashen cheeks and asking me why I hadn't quit yet. How ridiculous my answer. I can see her husband standing at the window smoking as I type this. I'm embarrassed that I understand it. He is an addict just like me. Not even holding his wives hand as she died due to smoking could flip the switch in his head. I'm ashamed that I was once as lost as him.

Another month went by and I sat in a duck blind by myself knuckles deep into a log of chew during a week long duck hunt. I began to ponder the stupidity of my addiction. I felt horrible most days. My heart beat jumped like a jackrabbit on meth. I was tired, I needed at least 2 cans a day to feel " normal" . Thing was is my use had gotten to the level that I was unable to remove the withdrawl symptoms. I was spending the entire day in a state of nicotine withdrawl. I could chew nic gum, smoke, and dip, but really never got any relief from the cravings. I see now that this is how drug addicts eventually overdose and die. If it was heroin or coke and not nicotine, I'd be dead. In any case I had a moment of clarity and realized if I was going to live in a constant state of withdrawl, I might as well quit and stop killing myself. I wasn't going to feel anymore shitty so what was the difference. I set my last can on the ledge of the blind and never used nicotine again.

This is nicotine's end game. At some point you reach the level of addiction that your never "not" using. It's why there are chain smokers. It's why you replaced one dip after another after another. It is why you hide your habit from your family and coworkers. It is why I would buy my chew from different gas stations because I was actually embarrased by how much I used. It is also why nicotine will never get me back. I know what is there at the end. She either kills you outright with cancer, kills you slowly with related disease, or just stops "working" . It is a no win game from all angles. a neurotoxic romance where the only outcomes are death or quit.

three years into my quit, my wife who is a health nut of epic proportions, slim as a rail and almost vegetarian was diagnosed with cancer. No cause, just random luck. The fear, anguish, hurt of that diagnosis and treatment that followed was unbelieveable. Cancer is a mother fucker my friends. Thank God she has made it through that and is one year clean today. There is no earthly way any human being would place himself in that posistion on purpose, and yet we do. We use a substance that we know will kill us eventually. We take comfort in the so called odds that we won't be the one that gets it. We try to believe the storys about the grandparent that smokes and dipped until he was 103. We lie to ourselves. Jenny Kern once said " the odds don't matter when your the one who gets it" She is right. Moreover, there are no odds you could give me that would make me risk hurting my family to such a huge extent. Purposefully killing ourselves by choosing nicotine over our family? stupid.

I'm so relieved I quit. I'm comforted now by the fact that I am approaching 4 years quit and that each passing day brings me closer to reducing my risk of cancer back to the level of a non tobacco user. It was so easy in hindsight. I just had to make up my mind to do it. To accept the consequences of quitting. To pay the price of the suck and the funks. It was so worth all of that shit, it was easier than I thought, and the rewards far greater.

Stay quit , it IS literally life and death

sM

[bis-cut]

I freakin love this post and it was the foundation of my own quit. I'm just gonna leave it here

What Price to Save Ourselves?

by Spongebob

For over 2 decades, my best quit efforts lasted maybe 10 or so days. Finally, asking myself the right question changed my attitude and made it possible to quit. This quit is not easy, but it is finally in MY CONTROL and (I firmly believe) FINAL.

Previously, I always asked "how can I find the strength to break this addiction? In particular, how can I get through the crushing brain fog that always leads to my demise. I can't stay quit or start quitting right now because I get too brain-stupid to get any work done." THAT QUESTION ALWAYS LED ME TO FAIL because (a) it gave me the choice to fail, and (B) it said I had other priorities that I would allow to interfere with quitting.

This time, I asked myself a different question. "IS THERE ANYTHING I WILL NOT DO IN ORDER TO QUIT? IS ANY COST TOO HIGH?" Since nobody was asking me to give up my family, I decided the answer was "NO." I therefore decided that I WILL INCUR ANY COST WHATSOEVER TO QUIT. If I must, I will use up all my vacation time to get away from the office until the fog lifts. If I have no vacation time left, I'll call in sick (and I consider addiction withdrawal to be honestly sick). If I run out of vacation/sick time, I'll ask for unpaid leave until my head clears up and while I practice handling fewer stresses without opening a tin. If I can't get unpaid leave, I'll let that job go (and go find a new job AFTER I SAVED MY LIFE). If I can't afford being on unpaid leave or unemployment, I will swallow my pride and ask for help from family  friends, and I will sell my stupid car/house/stereo while I SAVE MY LIFE.

WOW, once I decided that NO COST WAS TOO HIGH TO SAVE MY LIFE, and that I would GLADLY INCUR THOSE COSTS, my whole mental attitude changed. No longer were there any impediments to quitting. Once that was my attitude, quitting was easier than I had experienced in prior efforts. I did have to cut back on my office time (and incur some temporary pay reduction), but nothing drastic. And in the long run, who gives a damn?

See, the real barrier wasn't quitting tobacco -- the real barrier had been what I had not CONSIDERED doing, or had not been WILLING to do, in order to make quitting the absolute #1 priority.

Another example: does quitting make being around the house unbearable? Negotiate leaving for 2 weeks!!! "Honey, I need these 2 weeks in order to give you the rest of my life. This isn't a vacation, this is the old 'stick with me in sickness and in health thing.' It's unfair to leave you with the kids, but I will make it up to you, and you will like the new me much better, and I won't go and get cancer on you.")

I came to this "At What Price" attitude after my wife died. She had been given a terminal diagnosis from hell with no hope whatsoever (Lou Gehrig's Disease). We had wished there was something/anything we could do, but there was not. And she had done nothing to deserve it (no smokes, barely drank, exercised regularly, young).

Now here I was, 14 months after she passed away, giving myself my own terminal sentence. But this was a sentence I had the power to stop. My wife had been denied any such power. So, every time I CHOSE to fill my lip, I insulted the memory of my wife. My wife and I would have paid ANY PRICE to save her: sacrificing job, house, friends, etc.

Once I asked "What Price" to save myself, the answers became rather obvious and easy. This quit is not easy, but now it is only a question of time. The fog still lingers some, but now I just ride it out rather than fight it or let it scare me back to the can.

Hey guys, don't fill the boards with condolences. It's been 15 months and I've come to terms with my loss. But I wanted to share this story to prompt you to ask yourselves, "Is Any Price Too High?" Are you putting artificial barriers (like the job, or conserving vacation days and sick leave, or keeping secrets from your wife) in the way of accomplishing THE MOST IMPORTANT GOAL in your life right now?

Would you quit your job, sell your house and move to a desolate place where you have no friends, all in order to save the life of your child, wife, or father? Of course you would. Now, do whatever you have to do, at whatever cost, to save your own life.

SM would you mind if I printed this and shared with a friend of mine that has not made the dicision to quit. What a great perspective

[raiderx]

Thanks for posting this again

Really hits home

[Skoal Monster]

I freakin love this post and it was the foundation of my own quit. I'm just gonna leave it here

What Price to Save Ourselves?

by Spongebob

For over 2 decades, my best quit efforts lasted maybe 10 or so days. Finally, asking myself the right question changed my attitude and made it possible to quit. This quit is not easy, but it is finally in MY CONTROL and (I firmly believe) FINAL.

Previously, I always asked "how can I find the strength to break this addiction? In particular, how can I get through the crushing brain fog that always leads to my demise. I can't stay quit or start quitting right now because I get too brain-stupid to get any work done." THAT QUESTION ALWAYS LED ME TO FAIL because (a) it gave me the choice to fail, and (B) it said I had other priorities that I would allow to interfere with quitting.

This time, I asked myself a different question. "IS THERE ANYTHING I WILL NOT DO IN ORDER TO QUIT? IS ANY COST TOO HIGH?" Since nobody was asking me to give up my family, I decided the answer was "NO." I therefore decided that I WILL INCUR ANY COST WHATSOEVER TO QUIT. If I must, I will use up all my vacation time to get away from the office until the fog lifts. If I have no vacation time left, I'll call in sick (and I consider addiction withdrawal to be honestly sick). If I run out of vacation/sick time, I'll ask for unpaid leave until my head clears up and while I practice handling fewer stresses without opening a tin. If I can't get unpaid leave, I'll let that job go (and go find a new job AFTER I SAVED MY LIFE). If I can't afford being on unpaid leave or unemployment, I will swallow my pride and ask for help from family  friends, and I will sell my stupid car/house/stereo while I SAVE MY LIFE.

WOW, once I decided that NO COST WAS TOO HIGH TO SAVE MY LIFE, and that I would GLADLY INCUR THOSE COSTS, my whole mental attitude changed. No longer were there any impediments to quitting. Once that was my attitude, quitting was easier than I had experienced in prior efforts. I did have to cut back on my office time (and incur some temporary pay reduction), but nothing drastic. And in the long run, who gives a damn?

See, the real barrier wasn't quitting tobacco -- the real barrier had been what I had not CONSIDERED doing, or had not been WILLING to do, in order to make quitting the absolute #1 priority.

Another example: does quitting make being around the house unbearable? Negotiate leaving for 2 weeks!!! "Honey, I need these 2 weeks in order to give you the rest of my life. This isn't a vacation, this is the old 'stick with me in sickness and in health thing.' It's unfair to leave you with the kids, but I will make it up to you, and you will like the new me much better, and I won't go and get cancer on you.")

I came to this "At What Price" attitude after my wife died. She had been given a terminal diagnosis from hell with no hope whatsoever (Lou Gehrig's Disease). We had wished there was something/anything we could do, but there was not. And she had done nothing to deserve it (no smokes, barely drank, exercised regularly, young).

Now here I was, 14 months after she passed away, giving myself my own terminal sentence. But this was a sentence I had the power to stop. My wife had been denied any such power. So, every time I CHOSE to fill my lip, I insulted the memory of my wife. My wife and I would have paid ANY PRICE to save her: sacrificing job, house, friends, etc.

Once I asked "What Price" to save myself, the answers became rather obvious and easy. This quit is not easy, but now it is only a question of time. The fog still lingers some, but now I just ride it out rather than fight it or let it scare me back to the can.

Hey guys, don't fill the boards with condolences. It's been 15 months and I've come to terms with my loss. But I wanted to share this story to prompt you to ask yourselves, "Is Any Price Too High?" Are you putting artificial barriers (like the job, or conserving vacation days and sick leave, or keeping secrets from your wife) in the way of accomplishing THE MOST IMPORTANT GOAL in your life right now?

Would you quit your job, sell your house and move to a desolate place where you have no friends, all in order to save the life of your child, wife, or father? Of course you would. Now, do whatever you have to do, at whatever cost, to save your own life.

[CMH17]

Quit is the understanding that chew only fixes the problems it created in the first place. It doesn't fill the void, it creates it.

 

Wow this was all good, but when I read this one....I just sat with a dumb "a ha" look on my face.

I am so glad that the clouds of deception have been lifted. I can see thru the lies now. It's like I'm a kid every day that loves to go exploring and discover facts, ultimately truth.

The evil creature doesn't fill a void, it creates it. That was poetry to me. Really built me back up. I have so many triggers today. I thank you for sharing your armor to fight the evil creature.

I have one to add now....

Quit is understanding that chew is just like a parasite. If you don't kill it, it can ultimately kill you.

And thats a fine addition, mthomas.

I don't know where this quote came from but it did not come from me (though I wish it had). I just read the whole intro of Skoal Monster from the beginning. The stories quoted in there would enhance any quit and will help me in mine.