SKOAL MONSTER

[miles]

Rocky posted one of my late night rambles, and I got a couple of PM's on it. As I was responding to Lochi , I laid out my own theory about where my mind is aton day 479 regarding use rationalizations. I think one key to success is really being able to identify your "inner addict" feeding you reasons why you should have a dip, smoke etc. In any case, here is my deal. The Words of wisdom link is below as reference.

index.php?showtopic=3416

I just read your rationalization message in WORDS OF WISDOM section.  Bro - You were speaking right to me this morning.  I needed to read your words.  I have been a mother fucker lately to my family and I have been questioning whether I am a better parent with or without the dip? 

I keep forgetting that shit kills and I'm much better off alive (and a fucktard) then dead to my family.  I know that much for sure. 

Thanks for your help!  And please continue posting your thoughts.  You have a way with words!!

Lochi21 - Day 91

Glad it helps, sometimes all the drugs I do combine just right and I get a rational thought. ( Just kidding....kind of)

91 days is huge, but it's just a start. YOur going to have good and bad days. You WILL still make up reasons why you need to dip. At least I do. Funny thing is you'll recognize your own bs. I can actually laugh at myself now when I think " I'm really stressed out, maybe I should have a dip" it used to piss me off that I still thought like that, now, although annoying , its just lame. I don't know about the future but I think I may have that little whisper for a long time, maybe forever. I have decided that's ok. It is the price I have to pay because I started dipping in the first place. Kind of like a physical scar from some dumbass thing I did as a kid. Only this scar is a mental one .

The guys that cave after 100 or even 1,000 forget. They forget that they're addicts. They forget that the whisper is never going away. They forget how hard it was to get to 100 days clean. I am still getting better at catching myself rationalizing why I could or should dip again. Mostly because I watch the new guys saying the same stupid shit, only they believe it still. I think I win in the end, as long as I stay quit one day at a time, I'll keep healing.

I dipped for 8,000 plus days. My 479 kicks ass, but 8,000 days of dipping is a long time . It will take a bit to unlearn all that shit. It'll take a bit to learn who the hell I am without dip. Smokey once said "Bout time we start reclaiming control of other aspects of our lives and choices, eh? Hate to break it to you Octopussies, but this isn't just about quitting nicotine."

In my opinion it is also about letting go of an imaginary crutch and learning how to run without it, and Smoke is right about reclaiming control of our lives and choices. This is one of my favorite quotes, because it really puts the shit in perspective.


sm

This is relevant even today....wow

[ninereasons]

777


                                      Jackpot Bitches

                                            'oh yeah'

Congrats, SM. 'party2'

[Ready]

777


Jackpot Bitches

'oh yeah'

Jackpot indeed. You hit freedom my friend.

[Skoal Monster]

777


Jackpot Bitches

'oh yeah'

[Skoal Monster]

More Goo Stuff

CCM

QUOTE 
Let me tell you what you fuckin' need to hear......

Nicotine is addictive and you are an addict. You are all a bunch of big boys (or girls) and know what the fuck "addicitive" means. If you didn't, you wouldn't be here and wouldn't be seeking any type of assitance from anything or anyone.

It also means you absolutely can't have just "one". If you could...you wouldn't be an addict. And anyone who comes on here and says...."blah, blah, blah, I thought I could handle it", may as well have just said...."I'm a super-retarded dumbfuck with the common sense of 2 year-old. Please get me my pacifier. I can't control my own life....so just smack me in the head with a shovel when you're done changing my diaper because I'm not using my brain anyway."

The day you post day 1, is the day you quit. Period. Using tobacco now falls in the category of things you do not do anymore. Ever. Never. Period.

Do you put your dick in a light socket? No.
Do you spread dog shit on a wiener bun and eat it. No.
Do you masterbate to a picture of your mom? No.
Do you use tobacco? No.

Get it? Got it? Fuck it. You're done with it. I hope your quit-fog is miserable and shitty and worth remembering. Good luck...and carry on.

ccm is in an ugly mood today...and is now talking like lOOt to himself....

I have to share something that I honestly haven't been able to even think about, much less write about but this may give some indication of the real grip that nicotine has on you....

As most know, My sister passed away two weeks ago today. She was diagnosed with Breast Cancer before I quit and was one of the factors, along with the arrival of my twin children, that led to my quit. Kelly (my sister) and I discussed my quit many times and I tried and tried to get her to join me... I posted here in times of frustration when she was alone in her hospital room with a can of dip hidden in her pillow and a blood infection that had effect her so totally that she was no where near reality... but still needed that damn can!

In June we took a family vacation to Gatlinburg (her wish) and she told the family then that they had run out of realistic options for chemotherapy and she was asking permission from us to quit chemotherapy... at that point I stopped trying to get her to quit (this was also the first time she asked for info on this site and even visited chat I hear)... she thought of it as a "final feat" to accomplish.

The week before she passed, she went from walking, talking, fully aware thursday to bed ridden on morphine on the next tuesday ( i was spending Tuesdays and thursdays with her) ... in case you have never experienced being with someone on morphine.... it takes away most of reality and the person lives in some "other place" that can't be understood.... but in end stages of life your body begins to shut down "other than vital processes"

she continued to DEMAND that damn can of dip even when most of her body had shut down including not opening her eyes any longer, that hold that nicotine has on the body was coming through the max dosage of morphine and the shut down of many bodily processes.

It is for this reason that I am so proud of being 1,000 days away from that monster! What I saw her experience after fighting cancer for 4 years adds to it for sure but I never want to be the slave of anything like that again.

In NO WAY was 1,000 days a personal accomplishment.... maybe I/we could have said that at the 100 day mark... but as time goes by it becomes more and more of a group thing... I could not have even thought of this accomplishment without this group and the accountability that has kept me from "That one" dip to celebrate... 100 days, 1yr free, 2 yrs free, 1,000 days free... because without each and every one of you, I would be back to putting that shit in my face again. I now think, and have seen it proven time and time again, that anyone and everyone can make 100 days with a "nut check" and this site provides that... but the real strength of this site comes after you think you have made it and need the accountability of others to keep you on the straight and narrow.

That is why someone who participated in our group but played a background role for a long time decided he needed to step up and help this site when some of those that helped me along the way needed to step away for a while... to continue to make sure this is available for as many as when can appeal to, to finally KILL THE CAN!

Rutroh/ Rob

Dear Daddy

By: MOA

Dear Daddy-

I wish you could have been there today to see me in my Ballet Recital, I felt like a princess. But your addiction was too strong for you to deny.

I wish you were here to hold me and tell me there was no “Boogie man” under my bed. But you put your addiction first.

I wish you were here to teach me to drive a car. But tobacco would not let you.

I wish you could have seen my high school graduation today, I sure missed you. But you chose to continue to use tobacco over your family.

I wish you could have been here tonight and met my prom date, I think I am in love. But your resolve to quit dip was not strong enough.

I wish you were here to help me move into my dorm room at college, I think I will like it here. But you chose to continue to use tobacco.

I wish you could have been around to give me words of encouragement on my wedding day and walk me down the aisle, it would have meant the world to me. But you were not strong enough to put down snuff once and for all.

I wish you were here today to hold your first grandchild, you know he has your eyes. But tobacco was too important to you.

I wish you had never used tobacco daddy, my life would have been much happier.

I love you and miss you,

Your daughter


I am quit today and tomorrow....MOA

SmokeyG

I come to this site because I don't want to forget that I am addicted to nicotine.

QUOTE (Greg5280 @ Feb 16, 2011, 12:54 pm)
Would I dip again ?

I have seen this question posted in different areas off and on and it gets me to thinking. Would I ever dip again knowing what I know now?

I have played different scenarios in my head during my quit, and thought would any of these be permissible to allow me to dip again? It is funny to me that I actually spent all this time thinking about this stuff, maybe I need another hobby. Below are some of the things that have passed through my mind on the subject.

1. The terminal illness – This is the one that has to be the easiest to answer right? If I get a terminal illness and was going to die anyway well why not add dipping back to the equation, I mean I am dying anyway so why not?

2. Some terrible tragedy – pick one. Life gives you many to choose from. For me the one that kept playing in my head was something to do with losing my family thus rendering my desire to remain quit or alive a null point. So pack one?

3. The end of the world - If I knew the end of the world was at hand would I run to the store and get a can. This one for me was some nuclear attack from N. Korea or something like that. I knew I had time before the end so why not run to the store and grab a can. Who would it hurt? It would all be over in an hour anyway.

There are others but I think you get the point, so letÂ’s get to the answer. Would I dip again knowing what I know now for any of the reasons listed above, or for any other reason?

Well my answer to that question today is different than it was at the beginning of my quit. I used to think if any of the above happened I would most certainly run to the store and buy a can. What possible difference could it make? I have fought long and hard and if the end was coming why not face it with a fatty? Today I will tell you there is no fucking way I would ever put a dip back in my face. Even if I knew I would die in an hour and could have one I would not do it.

I have learned far too much about tobacco/nicotine and the fuckers that produce/ sell it. How they researched their product and chemically enhanced it to make me/you more dependent on it. How they target our children and hope to hook them too. I have developed a seething hatred for everything their miserable fucking company/product represents.

They have poisoned my family members, me, you, and are looking for more lifelong addicts so they can add to their bottom line. They do not give a shit what their product does to your body or your family. They sell poison on a daily basis to millions and are thinking of creative ways to expand their client base.

Would I ever dip againÂ… FUCK NO !! I will set my money on fire before I give one more cent to those death dealers.

Newbies: Get over the illusion that you miss this shit, or need it,  you do not. You did not like it, it was not fun, it did not help anything. You were addicted to a chemically enhanced super drug. Quit romanticizing it and look at it with open eyes. Develop a hatred for it, the people that make and sell it, and it will make it much easier for you to remain quit. 

razd611

Monsters:
We all have monsters, some bigger than others, some pull and tear at us night and day, some stand in the back ground and remind us they are there only occasionally, some are as small as a toy soldier and others are as big as a ten story building.

Most of the time we take a monster that is the size of a toy soldier and turn it into that ten story building just because we donÂ’t get our way or have what we want.

Your quit is one of these monsters you will have to deal with. You have to decide if it will be that toy soldier or that ten story building.

We all have within us the ability to turn that monster away. We all have the inherent strength to succeed. That choice is yours and you have to be able to look within yourself and find whatever it is that will allow you to step out of the dark and walk away from that monster that controls you.

I have learned one thing through adversity that has finally allowed me to take that gargantuan sized monster and turn it into that toy soldier. I will never allow my monsters to rule my life again. I did it with this saying and if you want to be successful in this quit journey you need to apply it as well:

I will always be stronger than my monsters, even on my weakest day! Period, the end.

This post has been edited by razd611 on Feb 19, 2011, 11:07 am

NOLAQ

“This is going to suck until it doesn’t.”

Excerpt from PBkids Hof

This guyÂ’s walking down a street, when he falls in a hole. The walls are so steep, he canÂ’t get out.
A doctor passes by, and the guy shouts up, Hey you! Can you help me out? The doctor writes him a prescription, throws it down the hole, and moves on.
Then a priest comes along, and the guy shouts up, Father, IÂ’m down in this hole! Can you help me out? The priest writes out a prayer, throws it down in the hole, and moves on.
Then a friend walks by. Hey Joe, itÂ’s me, can you help me out? And the friend jumps in the hole! Our guy says Are you stupid? Now weÂ’re both down here! And the friend says, Yeah, but IÂ’ve been down here before, and I know the way out. -from The West Wing, "Noel"

My name is Jason Bland.  I am 37 years old, married to my beautiful wife, Jennifer, and we have two wonderful daughters, Caroline (9) and Hannah (5).  I am the head athletic trainer at Airline High School and I teach a sports medicine class at the Bossier Parish Technical School.   

This is my story. 

I used smokeless tobacco for about 16 years.  I had quit on July 23, 2008 – for good!  This is something that I am proud of because I quit on my own, no patches, and no prescriptions.  I have never had any known health issues, and then in October of 2008, I noticed a growth on the left side of my tongue.  It started out as a smooth, white challis, but started growing, bulging, and finally turned colors.  I waited until January to see a doctor.  (Hindsight being 20/20, this is probably the biggest mistake I have ever made).  Early diagnosis is key in cancer survival and I waited 4 months to see a doctor all because I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s Christmas. 

Anyway, I went to my dentist first and he told me that I needed a surgeon to look at it.  So, I went to see my friend Dr. Keith Christy for a biopsy.  He called me several days later with the news, which was really no surprise to me because I could see the tumor on my tongue growing.  He immediately set me an appointment with Dr. Cherie-Ann Nathan at Feist Weiller Cancer Center.  She is the top surgical physician in northwest Louisiana in head and neck cancer.  She gave us the official diagnosis of squamous cell carcinoma stage 2 (see why you don’t wait, I could have seen her when it was still stage 1).  The surgery would involve removing the tumor and including a two inch margin around the tumor.  Also, they would have to perform a partial neck dissection to remove the lymph nodes.  It was much more involved than we had really expected, and still could possibly be more evasive depending on how much tissue they had to remove.  

On March 16, 2009, I had surgery.  Everything went as planned and I was back at work in about six weeks.  Several weeks later it was determined that all the cancer had been removed and I did not need any other treatment.  WE HAD BEATEN IT!!!!!  We had a great summer:  a trip to Disney, a trip with my dad and my girls to San Antonio to see Shamuu, and finally rounding it out with our annual family trip to the beach in Gulf Shores, Alabama.  

During July 2009, I started to notice swelling in my left cheek and throat area.  We went back to see Dr. Nathan and she ran a PET scan.  It showed that the cancer had returned and with vengeance.  The tumor was so big that is had wrapped around my carotid artery and other nerves.  It had even pushed my trachea over about 1 inch.  Needless to say, they could not operate so I was referred to the Willis-Knighton Cancer Center to receive chemo and radiation treatment.  We met with Dr. Sandy Katz first to talk about radiation.  Radiation on the neck area produces the worst side effects of radiation compared any other spot on the body.  It dries your saliva, burns the inside of your mouth like one big blister, and affects other things like the thyroid, sinuses, hearing, etc… 


Then we met with our oncologist, Dr. Chad Hargon, and he discussed the chemo part of the plan.  The start date would be October 1, 2009.  (This was very difficult for me, because it was the first time in the 12 years that I would miss a football game, since I had started working with Airline).  Treatment would include 35 radiation treatments to both sides of the neck and throat area, with 3 treatments of Cisplatin, one of the strongest chemo’s that is given.  The chemo would be given as follows:  one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one at the end. 



I finished treatment on November 21, 2009 and by all signs the treatment worked, it had wiped out the tumor!  Protocol is to wait about 4 months before patients are rescanned, (so that the radiation doesn’t show up on the PET scan).  Mean while I just never began to feel better.   During the week of Thanksgiving I spent about 11 days in the hospital and in January, 2010, I spent another 16 days.  The decision was made to run a CT scan, and there they found that the cancer had metastasized to my lungs and on top of one rib.  Now my cancer in considered a stage 4, because it has moved from the original sight of the head and neck.   

Now we were in for another battle.  On February 1st, we started a chemo regimen of Taxotere every 3 weeks and Eurbitux every week.  I would do this for 12 weeks.  After about 4 weeks during this treatment, I developed drop foot in the left foot.  Dr. Hargon sent me for several scans to find the cause of the foot drop and what the CT showed was numerous new spots of tumors on my spine and ribs.  One of the tumors was pushing on my spinal column causing the foot drop.  I stopped chemo immediately and went through 10 radiation treatments to shrink that tumor.  At this time we were referred by Dr. Hargon to M.D. Anderson in Houston.  

We met with Dr. Merrill Kies, who is the top dog of Head  Neck cancer at M.D. Anderson, and one of the top 10 in the nation.  He referred us to his experimental team, headed by Dr. Sarina Piha-Paul, to devise a new treatment plan.  In preparation to enter this study they ran CT scans of the chest/abdomen, head/neck as well as an MRI of my chest/abdomen.  The head/neck CT scan showed a dime sized tumor resting on the bone behind each eye lying next to my brain and optic nerve.

As of this writing I am leaving for Houston to receive 10 radiation treatments on the new spots, before chemo can begin on May 11. 

This is my story.  There will be more battles to fight and win, but as of now, I am undefeated!  I love each and every one of you.  Thank you so much for your prayers, gifts, money, meals, cards, and whatever else was done that I am unaware.   

I encourage each of you to support the American Cancer Society and all the great work that they do on a regular basis for Northwest Louisiana.  Our local ACS office is able to provide so many programs FREE of charge to our community because of the funds raised by thoughtful businesses and individuals and like you.  So get ready to pull on your Jeans, dust off those boots and grab your hats for the 3rd annual American Cancer Society’s Baron’s Ball!  

Jason Bland

Jason Bland passed away peacefully in his sleep on Monday, June 7, 2010.

The 2010 BaronÂ’s Ball Committee expresses our deepest sympathy to the Bland family in their loss and asks that you partner with us and Jennifer Bland - his wife and Honorary Chairman of the event - at the 2010 BaronÂ’s Ball on Saturday, August 21, as we join together to raise funds to help find a cure for cancer.

LetÂ’s honor JasonÂ’s memory.Â…..

As addicts, we have the sisyphean task of quitting day by day. 

"In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a king punished by being compelled to roll an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down, and to repeat this throughout eternity. The word 'sisyphean' means 'endless and unavailing, as labor or a task.'"  (from somewhere on the interwebs, Wiki, I think).  I always say my job is a sisyphean task, but the quote above made me realize that it applies to addiction as well.

In order to be quit, we have to start pushing our boulder first thing every morning, just like ol' Sisyphus.  For some tasks in our life, we're done after reaching the top of the hill each day.  But our addict boulder inevitably rolls back down the hill at the end of each day.  Since we will never be cured, we're confronted each day with the choice of battling the addiction (rolling our boulder) or giving up.  If you've posted roll, and given your word, then the only choice you have for that day is to start pushing.

Even though we never make progress and the boulder winds up in the same place we started, there is some good news.  Our daily push gets easier as we build our muscles by making ourselves accountable and requesting/accepting help and support from others.

Denny, sorry to hijack your intro thread with my random thoughts.  Just remember that you're an addict, that what you're going through right now is worth the price and that you don't ever want to be that guy again.  You know, the one who worried about when he'd be able to get his next fix from a can of chopped up weeds.  I'm stronger than that tin.  And so are you.  Good to be quit with you.
GMan

Let me tell you a story about tomorrow....I have a friend who tomorrow will be meeting with an oncologist, a plastic surgeon and a radiologist to discuss his bleak future from tobacco induced cancer....that's his tomorrow...if you don't quit today, you run out of tomorrows before you know it....

So as I sit here two weeks past my second floor I am studying the irony of the faithful day in November that I quit.....I was driving my car and had just finished my last dip of Copenhagen. I looked over at my buddy Randy who was smoking away at his hand rolled Drum cigs like he always was....I told him I was not going to buy another can of dip. He looked at me like I was some sort of crazy lunatic ready to punch his mother. After he wiped that look off his face he chuckled and asked me why...I looked over and mumbled that I was sick of the shit and I knew deep down it would kill me, and I was ready to quit and if he wanted to live a full life he should too. He smirked and remarked on how long this would last, and he had never seen me without a dip in my face. He rolled another smoke and said "good luck with that".

Now over seven months later I am still quit and enjoying my freedom. Randy has not quit....he developed pain in his mouth about five months ago and had a tooth extracted. The pain did not stop with the pulling of the tooth...it increased. He visited the dentist several times and was finally referred to an oral surgeon. That oral surgeon told him that he may have cancer. That "may" have cancer has turned into stage four cancer of the tongue, jaw and throat...including a silver dollar sized tumor on his jaw and it has spread to several lymph nodes. On Friday he will have three inches of his jaw removed and most of his tongue....then radiation and chemo.

I quit, he did not. I gained freedom and he was given a 26% chance of living five years. I was given a new lease on life and he was given disfigurement and a possible death sentence. Stay quit.....it is life or death and that is the undeniable truth.

This post has been edited by Capt Kylos on Jun 29, 2011, 10:02 am

Let me start this by saying please don't post your best wishes and sympathy; that's not why I'm sharing this. I'm hoping that my loss and my resolve to remain quit will inspire at least one person during a future trial.

My son, Henry, died in the womb in his 16th week. This was Saturday, March 16. We checked in to the ER with our 2 year old daughter, Hazel, at 6:00am and at 6:45 my wife went into labor. Of course, Henry couldn't survive at such a young age. Unfortunately, the ER staff never considered to give us time with our son. In fact, we didn't even know he was a "he" when they threw him in a yellow medical waste tub and rushed him away. We saw him, but they seemed uneasy even letting us look at our son. We had to send someone later to the lab to check on the sex. My only reasoning is that they were trying to protect us - or they were trying to protect our daughter, who I was distracting with medical gloves. Mom is crying under a bloody sheet, and Hazel is giggling, working to fit an oversized glove on my hand while wearing two gloves herself. Kids are amazing.

Anyways, we were later dismissed form the ER with nothing. No death certificate. The line is 20 weeks. After that is a stillbirth with a death certificate; before that is nothing. A "spontaneous abortion". No pictures. We hadn't even taken a picture of Shannon's belly yet. She had a bad feeling from the start. We were crushed. I went to the library on Sunday to write a final essay for my Master's program. I went back to work on Monday. I had told co-workers for the first time on Friday that we were pregnant. It took until Thursday for me to say anything. And only after another teacher approached me stating that he was worried about me - that I had a glaze in my eyes. I teared up, but didn't come out with it because 18 year old kids were around. Gotta keep it together at work. I told what happened through an e-mail. The people who gave me hugs and shared their own losses and hurt were great support.

That same day, Thursday, Shannon and I attended a grief support group for people who had lost young children. We were afraid that everyone would have lost fully developed infants and our loss would somehow be overshadowed. Far from it. The group leader had lost a child at 19 weeks. She spoke of her daughter as if she were real. She bought her gifts and had shared memories. We shared our experience. I was the only guy there. The other husbands would "never attend something like this". I broke down. Saying that I felt as if our son had been treated like medical waste. I referred to him out loud by name for the first time to anyone besides my wife - Henry. This was a major realization for me. I'm glad I'm not manly tough.

My wife is amazing. Mother of the year.

She sought out the social worker/counselor at the Hospital where Henry was born. The hospital had no plans to follow up with us. Without her love and strength, we would have no record of his existence. Early Friday afternoon, we met with this wonderful woman on the labor and delivery floor who comforted us and gave us a basket that parents would normally receive with the death of a child. She wrote down all of our hospital related concerns and contacted the department where Henry was resting (who botched the paperwork concerning the test that may have determined what went wrong). She offered up a smock that a local company of volunteers had stitched. She shared and later updated the ER length/weight measurements which were grossly inaccurate. She offered to take photos of him in the smock and take footprints. She made arrangements with a trusted funeral home for cremation. She arranged for us to have time with him alone beforehand.

That bonding happened yesterday. Our friends watched our daughter while we went to the funeral home. They had set a room up for us and had his body - taped securely in the ER bucket - wrapped in a blue blanket and smock in a basket. We wanted to see him. To spend time with him. We had to ask for a pair of scissors to cut through the tape. I held Henry. Dropped tears on him. Held him to my forehead. Told him we loved him. That he had a big sister. That he is part of our family. At 16 weeks development, dead for a week, he looked just like Hazel in profile. We told him we were sorry. After what seemed like 15 minutes, our hour was over. We wrapped him in a blanket that my wife sewed the night before. Hugged him for the last time.

Yesterday?

Today, I was steamrolled. It wasn't until noon until I was able to function like a human being. I mowed the lawn for the first time this Spring. I cooked cheeseburgers and sweet potato fries for my family. I hugged my wife and daughter. I played soccer with my friends. I wrote this post. Tomorrow we will receive his ashes to scatter at a place of our choosing.

You think chew will make it all better? You're wrong. Henry's father is stronger. Every chew is a slap in the face to yourself and the people you love. Be stronger.

For the first time, that word meant something to me. I wasn't "trying" to quit. Or trying to "be" quit. I was just fucking quit. Noun, verb, adjective, adverb quit. This is my quit. I quit. That's a quit look you have on your face. I'm quitly shitting.

It's all I was for many months. Just quit. I didn't have the strength to do or be more.

I got stronger, though. And then months became years. And here I am. A GOD. Just like you.

Because you're quit. -DeantheCoot

[Skoal Monster]

You'd hold me close in your arms
I loved the way you felt so strong
I never wanted you to leave
I wanted you to stay here holding me
I miss you
I miss your smile
And i still shed a tear
Every once in a while
And even though it's different now,
You're still here somehow
My heart won't let you go
And I need you to know
I miss you
I'm thinking back on the past
It's true the time is flying by too fast
I know your in a better place yeah
But i wish that I could see your face oh
I know where you need to be
Even though it's not here with me




Kenzi Kern - Sunday, September 5, 2010 10:56 PM CDT

[Ready]

To friends unmet,

I bought a ticket to this ride long ago, maybe you did too. I was too young to understand the consequences, I was too young to care, I was invincible and I liked the buzz. What chance does a kid have against billions of dollars in advertising? I believed that dip was a crutch, that it somehow helped me, that it calmed me, that I could get thru any of life's roller coasters with a can at my side. I thought of it as a friend. It defined me.

I didn't realize how wrong I was.

Nicotine is not a crutch its a ball and chain. It never helped me, I only thought it did. It never helped you either. The relief we felt from chewing was a result of two things only.

First we were relieving the anxiety caused by withdrawl symptoms. Stress reduces the time nic stays in your blood stream, this causes withdrawl. So we crave a fix. When you recieve your dose of nic and eliminate the withdrawl symptoms you feel better. It NEVER HELPED THE PROBLEM, but we believed it did because we felt better, calmer, etc. Fact is, if you were not addicted to nicotine you could have handled the problem calmly and easily in the first place. The addiction made it harder.

Second, the act of taking a chew usually removed us physically or mentally from the problem. I generally preferred to stuff that crap in my mouth in private. I would walk away from fights, or simply give in so I could leave and have a dip. This was simple problem avoidance. But somehow my simple mind believed that it was the dip that was making me feel better. In reality I could have taken a walk, or mowed the lawn, or taken a drive and accomplished the same thing.


Play out that scenario daily for years on end and it gets burned into your mind. A dip will solve your problems. We tell the story over and over and over until we believe it as gospel. I lived the lie for 23 years. I never even learned how to handle conflict without it. Didn't even think I could.

I've seen 1,000 day quitters and day one quitters crumble under this lie. The mistaken belief that somehow a dip will help. I've seen quitters cave after a death in the family, a job loss, a car wreck, financial setbacks, failed marriages, all believing that a dip will help them handle the crisis. It doesn't. That's just a imaginary belief leftover from years of lying and addiction.


I have a friend I never met, she recently relapsed. Personal problems and emotional pain from lifes shit storms drove her back to the can. I asked her a simple question,

" didn't help did it?"

The response was....... "no"

the response is always no, if it helped cavers wouldn't try to quit again.

I have another friend I've yet to meet, quit for close to 2 years, and he is walking on the edge as well. Looking for a crutch, some way to soothe the hurt. He craves a dip, to help him get thru the rough patch. I've felt this way as well, I understand the power of the lie that dip is a crutch, a friend, a help. I know that it won't help and I suspect he does too, but because I believed it for so long, and reinforced it with every stressed out dip I still hold on to it in the part of me that will always be an addict.

After 651 days quit, I find this to be the most dangerous use rationalization for a long term quitter. The mistaken belief that nicotine is a emotional or physical crutch. Life sucks sometimes and I don't know much, but I know that a dip won't make it suck any less. The only thing that shit is good for is keeping you addicted to nicotine. Stay quit

sm

Read this
http://www.killthecan.org/robs/anger.asp

http://www.killthecan.org/robs/stress.asp

The force is strong with SM. Listen to him, he speaks the undeniable truth.

[Skoal Monster]

To friends unmet,

I bought a ticket to this ride long ago, maybe you did too. I was too young to understand the consequences, I was too young to care, I was invincible and I liked the buzz. What chance does a kid have against billions of dollars in advertising? I believed that dip was a crutch, that it somehow helped me, that it calmed me, that I could get thru any of life's roller coasters with a can at my side. I thought of it as a friend. It defined me.

I didn't realize how wrong I was.

Nicotine is not a crutch its a ball and chain. It never helped me, I only thought it did. It never helped you either. The relief we felt from chewing was a result of two things only.

First we were relieving the anxiety caused by withdrawl symptoms. Stress reduces the time nic stays in your blood stream, this causes withdrawl. So we crave a fix. When you recieve your dose of nic and eliminate the withdrawl symptoms you feel better. It NEVER HELPED THE PROBLEM, but we believed it did because we felt better, calmer, etc. Fact is, if you were not addicted to nicotine you could have handled the problem calmly and easily in the first place. The addiction made it harder.

Second, the act of taking a chew usually removed us physically or mentally from the problem. I generally preferred to stuff that crap in my mouth in private. I would walk away from fights, or simply give in so I could leave and have a dip. This was simple problem avoidance. But somehow my simple mind believed that it was the dip that was making me feel better. In reality I could have taken a walk, or mowed the lawn, or taken a drive and accomplished the same thing.


Play out that scenario daily for years on end and it gets burned into your mind. A dip will solve your problems. We tell the story over and over and over until we believe it as gospel. I lived the lie for 23 years. I never even learned how to handle conflict without it. Didn't even think I could.

I've seen 1,000 day quitters and day one quitters crumble under this lie. The mistaken belief that somehow a dip will help. I've seen quitters cave after a death in the family, a job loss, a car wreck, financial setbacks, failed marriages, all believing that a dip will help them handle the crisis. It doesn't. That's just a imaginary belief leftover from years of lying and addiction.


I have a friend I never met, she recently relapsed. Personal problems and emotional pain from lifes shit storms drove her back to the can. I asked her a simple question,

" didn't help did it?"

The response was....... "no"

the response is always no, if it helped cavers wouldn't try to quit again.

I have another friend I've yet to meet, quit for close to 2 years, and he is walking on the edge as well. Looking for a crutch, some way to soothe the hurt. He craves a dip, to help him get thru the rough patch. I've felt this way as well, I understand the power of the lie that dip is a crutch, a friend, a help. I know that it won't help and I suspect he does too, but because I believed it for so long, and reinforced it with every stressed out dip I still hold on to it in the part of me that will always be an addict.

After 651 days quit, I find this to be the most dangerous use rationalization for a long term quitter. The mistaken belief that nicotine is a emotional or physical crutch. Life sucks sometimes and I don't know much, but I know that a dip won't make it suck any less. The only thing that shit is good for is keeping you addicted to nicotine. Stay quit

sm

Read this
http://www.killthecan.org/robs/anger.asp

http://www.killthecan.org/robs/stress.asp

[Skoal Monster]

I keep all of the Kern posts in this intro to remind me what the alternative is.No matter how remote the chance of cancer or dying, it isn't worth it. Not even at million to one would I risk doing this to my family. Stay the course fellas.

Hey Dad-

I have been thinking about you a lot. Lately I have been crying every night. I don't know why but I feel like the pain is getting worse. It has been 6 years already, but I swear I remember it like it was just yesterday. I remember mom waking me and nikki up in the morning saying it wasn't good. I remember Julie driving us to the hospital. I remember going to Walmart to get swim suits because we were going to go to john and shell's and run through the sprinkler, until Dave called my phone and told us to come quick. I remember coming to the hospital scared of what might come next. I wanted to run out to the car to get my CD that has the song "Dance with my father" that I really wanted you to hear. Right as we were going to get on the elevator grandma yelled to have everyone come back into the room, we all new it was bad. I remember running back into the room, throwing myself on top on you at the end of the bed yelling "DADDY, PLEASE DON'T GO", but then you did. Hearing you take your last breath, was like getting my heart ripped out of my chest. I remember laying there at the end of your bed crying and crying and crying, hoping and praying you were going to come back. I needed you, mom needed you, connor, alexa, and tori needed you. We needed you to be there for us, to cook me steak and tell me who I could and couldn't date, you needed to coach tori and connor's softball and baseball teams, you needed to watch alexa perform just ONE more time, mom needed your help to keep me out of trouble. It's not fair. It's not fair that such an amazing guy like you had to go. It's not fair that alexa, tori, and I will never get to have you walk us down the isle or have our father daughter dance, it's not fair that you will not get to see what a good pitcher connor is or see what an amazing guy he has become. it's not fair that Kenra will never get to hear your laugh or have you give her one of those amazing hugs you gave. Dad I miss you so much and want you hear to tell me everything will be okay.
Kenzi Kern
- Monday, July 19, 2010 9:03 PM CDT

When you go to college your dad should be there helping you carry all of the big things, giving you a big hug and as your pretending not to be scared to be on your own you should be there saying it will be okay kiddo, you can call when anytime. But your not. I am so mad that you are not here to watch all of us grow up and here for every waking moment. I wish you could be hear for us and give us that hug and call us kiddo or pumpkin. Well I miss you dad and love you so much!
Kenzi Kern
Saturday, September 4, 2010 10:58 AM CDT

[Skoal Monster]

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[RickDicolus]

My dog is card carrying member of the Canine Society of Rat Bastards.  If my wife and kids wouldn't Phone the  tree hugging longhaired hippie society for saving asshole animals from "cruelty" I would sucker punch that ass licker right in his snout.

This snaggle toothed sack of drooling fat and poop must be the reincarnation of Attila the Hun and Elenor Roosevelt's secret love child........ only he's meaner, uglier and dumber. In the time it took me to write this  my wooden headed cat humping keg with legs has pissed on my rose bush AND my four year old son, who apparently resembles a fire hydrant when he stands still. My now outraged red faced screaming son attempted to run into the house to voice his utter humiliation and displeasure at becoming Fido's portable piss pole. The dog, seeing a loud fleeing target goes into "play mode" . Captain lick a dick ( dog not son) charges my innocent piss covered, terror filled heir with what I am sure are bad intentions. I guess if I was still  3 feet tall ,and a evil black, alpo smelling, tornado of teeth and fur with a raging pink hard on, was chasing me I'd be scared as shit too. Fortunately for my lil guy he has been well schooled in the art of manly self defense when it comes to canine rape scenarios .

When my boy realizes that the child eating timber wolf that masquerades as his dog is about to pounce on him like a one titted gap toothed godzilla of a bridesmaid diving for a wedding bouquet, he takes evasive action.  I wish I could say he snap kicked that poodle fucker in the grill, but sadly no, instead, he initiated the  classic grade school duck and cover drill. The one they teach you in case a earth quake or a nuclear war interrupts 2nd period Spanish class. My boy, rather than fight this chomping hell hound of death decided to just lay back and think of England. I'm going to get him a concealed carry permit when he turns five, just to even the odds. Fortunately for the boy, Dog,is a certified coward and will only chase shit that runs so he does a fly by instead. I swear I heard him laugh , like a hyena that chain smokes but sarcastic....and more dick like.

  He's fat too,  I can't figure out what in the hell he eats. I barely feed him. I have long sought to starve his flea bitten ass to death, or at least keep him weaker than a third string semi-pro French badmitton player with a lisp. But no dice, that prick should have Caterpillar or John Deere stamped on him, he is either secretly doing the P-90x with the neighbors Rottweiler or he's eating local kids that stray from their yards.  If he get any fatter I'll have to start referring to him in the plural tense.

Because I like that dirt pig about as much as getting my junk caught in my zipper, I leave him outside at night. My hope was the huge pack of snarling coyotes that lurk outside, would make a quick snack out of his snausage farting ass. I figured this would kill two birds with one fat Lab. The dog would be neatly disposed of,with zero evidence. I could safely claim "accident"  and as a bonus, the coyotes would surely die of food poisoning or at least get high cholesterol. I can't imagine that anything that ate an animal that smells like my dog could possibly survive the experience. He smells like a goat covered in hot week old garbage, that burps bad sushi downwind of a slaughter house, inside the discount gynecologist office after the AC went out. I haven't heard or seen a coyote for months, not since he first was banished to sleep in the yard. I think he fucked, ate or pissed on the whole damn lot of em and has now become their king.This is worrisome. 

This is my dogs entire philosophy on life,  you Fuck it, eat it, or piss on it. The order of this operation is suprisingly not important to him, and accomplishing one does not exclude performing another on the same item. I guess he feels that if you piss on something it's yours. If its yours you should be free to fuck it and if said item turns out to be a sub par fuck then you might as well just eat the damn thing. Of course if you fuck it first or eat it first then it  also belongs to you. I initially gave him credit, it's a good system I thought.However,it turns out, this does NOT apply to your wife or girlfriend.  Fucking furry bastard wouldn't even admit he came up with it. Just wagged his stumpy tail and bit his lip to hide the smile. Keep in mind that if you're not my rat bastard dog, the order you choose to perform fuck it ,eat it, or piss on it , is HUGELY IMPORTANT and based on the girl or object involved you may choose to edit various combinations.

My dog is a selfish motherfucker, he gets away with everything.

If my dog was a person he'd be a creepy grossly obese pedohile carnival worker. He'd probably have a giant hairy gut that hung over the waistband of his polyester slacks and stuck out below his pit stained once white t-shirt that reads SEX
MACHINE on it. He'd  try to screw your mom, your sister or your brother, but not in any particular order , and he'd be into golden showers, but he would never ask first. He'd have bad teeth and a pencil thin mustache full of yesterdays corn dog and some pubes from the bearded lady in the next booth over.  Such is my dog.

I remember watching Lassie as a kid. Lassie would save your ass if you fell in a well. She would bark and shit or bring you a rope. She'd even hold the other end so you could pull yourself up. Lassie was a real dog. A dog every boy should have. If I fell into a well and broke my leg, my mutt wouldn't lift a hind leg to piss on me. He'd squat and try to drown me while he laughed that fucked up hyena laugh of his.He'd  be thinking "this is what you get for starving me and trying to feed me to the coyote's.  after I finish pissing on you I'm going to be either hungry or horny, maybe both."

My dog is a dick

'crackup' 'crackup' 'crackup' Classic, just like our (I mean by 14 YO's dog) who can't control his bladder in the house. Door frames are his fire hydrant. Nevermind that he was taken out to piss in the last 15 minutes. :angry:

You guys may want to look up on, bad boy belts, even terrible monster dogs don't like pissing on themselves.

[Kdip]

My dog is card carrying member of the Canine Society of Rat Bastards.  If my wife and kids wouldn't Phone the  tree hugging longhaired hippie society for saving asshole animals from "cruelty" I would sucker punch that ass licker right in his snout.

This snaggle toothed sack of drooling fat and poop must be the reincarnation of Attila the Hun and Elenor Roosevelt's secret love child........ only he's meaner, uglier and dumber. In the time it took me to write this  my wooden headed cat humping keg with legs has pissed on my rose bush AND my four year old son, who apparently resembles a fire hydrant when he stands still. My now outraged red faced screaming son attempted to run into the house to voice his utter humiliation and displeasure at becoming Fido's portable piss pole. The dog, seeing a loud fleeing target goes into "play mode" . Captain lick a dick ( dog not son) charges my innocent piss covered, terror filled heir with what I am sure are bad intentions. I guess if I was still  3 feet tall ,and a evil black, alpo smelling, tornado of teeth and fur with a raging pink hard on, was chasing me I'd be scared as shit too. Fortunately for my lil guy he has been well schooled in the art of manly self defense when it comes to canine rape scenarios .

When my boy realizes that the child eating timber wolf that masquerades as his dog is about to pounce on him like a one titted gap toothed godzilla of a bridesmaid diving for a wedding bouquet, he takes evasive action.  I wish I could say he snap kicked that poodle fucker in the grill, but sadly no, instead, he initiated the  classic grade school duck and cover drill. The one they teach you in case a earth quake or a nuclear war interrupts 2nd period Spanish class. My boy, rather than fight this chomping hell hound of death decided to just lay back and think of England. I'm going to get him a concealed carry permit when he turns five, just to even the odds. Fortunately for the boy, Dog,is a certified coward and will only chase shit that runs so he does a fly by instead. I swear I heard him laugh , like a hyena that chain smokes but sarcastic....and more dick like.

  He's fat too,  I can't figure out what in the hell he eats. I barely feed him. I have long sought to starve his flea bitten ass to death, or at least keep him weaker than a third string semi-pro French badmitton player with a lisp. But no dice, that prick should have Caterpillar or John Deere stamped on him, he is either secretly doing the P-90x with the neighbors Rottweiler or he's eating local kids that stray from their yards.  If he get any fatter I'll have to start referring to him in the plural tense.

Because I like that dirt pig about as much as getting my junk caught in my zipper, I leave him outside at night. My hope was the huge pack of snarling coyotes that lurk outside, would make a quick snack out of his snausage farting ass. I figured this would kill two birds with one fat Lab. The dog would be neatly disposed of,with zero evidence. I could safely claim "accident"  and as a bonus, the coyotes would surely die of food poisoning or at least get high cholesterol. I can't imagine that anything that ate an animal that smells like my dog could possibly survive the experience. He smells like a goat covered in hot week old garbage, that burps bad sushi downwind of a slaughter house, inside the discount gynecologist office after the AC went out. I haven't heard or seen a coyote for months, not since he first was banished to sleep in the yard. I think he fucked, ate or pissed on the whole damn lot of em and has now become their king.This is worrisome. 

This is my dogs entire philosophy on life,  you Fuck it, eat it, or piss on it. The order of this operation is suprisingly not important to him, and accomplishing one does not exclude performing another on the same item. I guess he feels that if you piss on something it's yours. If its yours you should be free to fuck it and if said item turns out to be a sub par fuck then you might as well just eat the damn thing. Of course if you fuck it first or eat it first then it  also belongs to you. I initially gave him credit, it's a good system I thought.However,it turns out, this does NOT apply to your wife or girlfriend.  Fucking furry bastard wouldn't even admit he came up with it. Just wagged his stumpy tail and bit his lip to hide the smile. Keep in mind that if you're not my rat bastard dog, the order you choose to perform fuck it ,eat it, or piss on it , is HUGELY IMPORTANT and based on the girl or object involved you may choose to edit various combinations.

My dog is a selfish motherfucker, he gets away with everything.

If my dog was a person he'd be a creepy grossly obese pedohile carnival worker. He'd probably have a giant hairy gut that hung over the waistband of his polyester slacks and stuck out below his pit stained once white t-shirt that reads SEX
MACHINE on it. He'd  try to screw your mom, your sister or your brother, but not in any particular order , and he'd be into golden showers, but he would never ask first. He'd have bad teeth and a pencil thin mustache full of yesterdays corn dog and some pubes from the bearded lady in the next booth over.  Such is my dog.

I remember watching Lassie as a kid. Lassie would save your ass if you fell in a well. She would bark and shit or bring you a rope. She'd even hold the other end so you could pull yourself up. Lassie was a real dog. A dog every boy should have. If I fell into a well and broke my leg, my mutt wouldn't lift a hind leg to piss on me. He'd squat and try to drown me while he laughed that fucked up hyena laugh of his.He'd  be thinking "this is what you get for starving me and trying to feed me to the coyote's.  after I finish pissing on you I'm going to be either hungry or horny, maybe both."

My dog is a dick

'crackup' 'crackup' 'crackup' Classic, just like our (I mean by 14 YO's dog) who can't control his bladder in the house. Door frames are his fire hydrant. Nevermind that he was taken out to piss in the last 15 minutes. :angry:

[Skoal Monster]

Nah, I mostly just like to hear myself talk. Also i like Scotch

[bennythekid]

you are a bad ass descriptive writer. you could write a book. are you able to come up with this on the fly? if so i want to see youtube standup of it!

benny

[Skoal Monster]

My dog is card carrying member of the Canine Society of Rat Bastards. If my wife and kids wouldn't Phone the tree hugging longhaired hippie society for saving asshole animals from "cruelty" I would sucker punch that ass licker right in his snout.

This snaggle toothed sack of drooling fat and poop must be the reincarnation of Attila the Hun and Elenor Roosevelt's secret love child........ only he's meaner, uglier and dumber. In the time it took me to write this my wooden headed cat humping keg with legs has pissed on my rose bush AND my four year old son, who apparently resembles a fire hydrant when he stands still. My now outraged red faced screaming son attempted to run into the house to voice his utter humiliation and displeasure at becoming Fido's portable piss pole. The dog, seeing a loud fleeing target goes into "play mode" . Captain lick a dick ( dog not son) charges my innocent piss covered, terror filled heir with what I am sure are bad intentions. I guess if I was still 3 feet tall ,and a evil black, alpo smelling, tornado of teeth and fur with a raging pink hard on, was chasing me I'd be scared as shit too. Fortunately for my lil guy he has been well schooled in the art of manly self defense when it comes to canine rape scenarios .

When my boy realizes that the child eating timber wolf that masquerades as his dog is about to pounce on him like a one titted gap toothed godzilla of a bridesmaid diving for a wedding bouquet, he takes evasive action. I wish I could say he snap kicked that poodle fucker in the grill, but sadly no, instead, he initiated the classic grade school duck and cover drill. The one they teach you in case a earth quake or a nuclear war interrupts 2nd period Spanish class. My boy, rather than fight this chomping hell hound of death decided to just lay back and think of England. I'm going to get him a concealed carry permit when he turns five, just to even the odds. Fortunately for the boy, Dog,is a certified coward and will only chase shit that runs so he does a fly by instead. I swear I heard him laugh , like a hyena that chain smokes but sarcastic....and more dick like.

He's fat too, I can't figure out what in the hell he eats. I barely feed him. I have long sought to starve his flea bitten ass to death, or at least keep him weaker than a third string semi-pro French badmitton player with a lisp. But no dice, that prick should have Caterpillar or John Deere stamped on him, he is either secretly doing the P-90x with the neighbors Rottweiler or he's eating local kids that stray from their yards. If he get any fatter I'll have to start referring to him in the plural tense.

Because I like that dirt pig about as much as getting my junk caught in my zipper, I leave him outside at night. My hope was the huge pack of snarling coyotes that lurk outside, would make a quick snack out of his snausage farting ass. I figured this would kill two birds with one fat Lab. The dog would be neatly disposed of,with zero evidence. I could safely claim "accident" and as a bonus, the coyotes would surely die of food poisoning or at least get high cholesterol. I can't imagine that anything that ate an animal that smells like my dog could possibly survive the experience. He smells like a goat covered in hot week old garbage, that burps bad sushi downwind of a slaughter house, inside the discount gynecologist office after the AC went out. I haven't heard or seen a coyote for months, not since he first was banished to sleep in the yard. I think he fucked, ate or pissed on the whole damn lot of em and has now become their king.This is worrisome.

This is my dogs entire philosophy on life, you Fuck it, eat it, or piss on it. The order of this operation is suprisingly not important to him, and accomplishing one does not exclude performing another on the same item. I guess he feels that if you piss on something it's yours. If its yours you should be free to fuck it and if said item turns out to be a sub par fuck then you might as well just eat the damn thing. Of course if you fuck it first or eat it first then it also belongs to you. I initially gave him credit, it's a good system I thought.However,it turns out, this does NOT apply to your wife or girlfriend. Fucking furry bastard wouldn't even admit he came up with it. Just wagged his stumpy tail and bit his lip to hide the smile. Keep in mind that if you're not my rat bastard dog, the order you choose to perform fuck it ,eat it, or piss on it , is HUGELY IMPORTANT and based on the girl or object involved you may choose to edit various combinations.

My dog is a selfish motherfucker, he gets away with everything.

If my dog was a person he'd be a creepy grossly obese pedohile carnival worker. He'd probably have a giant hairy gut that hung over the waistband of his polyester slacks and stuck out below his pit stained once white t-shirt that reads SEX
MACHINE on it. He'd try to screw your mom, your sister or your brother, but not in any particular order , and he'd be into golden showers, but he would never ask first. He'd have bad teeth and a pencil thin mustache full of yesterdays corn dog and some pubes from the bearded lady in the next booth over. Such is my dog.

I remember watching Lassie as a kid. Lassie would save your ass if you fell in a well. She would bark and shit or bring you a rope. She'd even hold the other end so you could pull yourself up. Lassie was a real dog. A dog every boy should have. If I fell into a well and broke my leg, my mutt wouldn't lift a hind leg to piss on me. He'd squat and try to drown me while he laughed that fucked up hyena laugh of his.He'd be thinking "this is what you get for starving me and trying to feed me to the coyote's. after I finish pissing on you I'm going to be either hungry or horny, maybe both."

My dog is a dick